The Progression of Insanity from One Individual to the Next

We seem to have started it all by remodeling or 1910 Portland Bungalow house back in 2006 before the downturn in the market. Our realtor suggested several things to increase the value of our home and we did nearly all of them. We made a tidy profit which we threw away by buying a weird yet often lovely piece of property on the South Coast.

I don’t know if we were the inspiration or not but the next person to do a likewise job was Johnny’s youngest daughter Shayla. She bought a house in Beaverton Oregon; bought it from her mother. It was built in the 80’s or thereabouts. I helped paint and saw much of the progression of the project, also missed many of the projects, over the course of 12 months? 16?

Their work was far more intensive than our cosmetic updates. Floors were taken up and joists replaced. Decks removed and replace entirely. Contractors ripping them off and screwing things up so bad they had to re-do it themselves. And many other projects going far beyond the cosmetic. They finally got done and ended up in the black about 20 G’s. Not really enough to stake the homestead she dreamed of. After some health problems, she finds herself back in the red.

Concurrently, our friend Chris bought a home over 100 years old, in southeast Portland, the Oregon City neighborhood.

We were just by his house yesterday and I really hope he couldn’t see how crazy I thought his whole remodeling project is. After 3 years and countless lessons in electrical and sheet rock, raising ceilings, redoing stairs 3 times, completely replacing plumbing….on and on, I can’t help but wonder if it will be worth what he expects.

He actually voiced concerns he had made a big mistake. He has bought a shuttle bus to remodel into an RV for a place to live once he can get out from under that trap. This, I’m sorry to say, just seems like an extension of his craziness. Why get something to remodel after the hell he has been through?

Coming around full circle, our abode for the last 12 years is situated on the North side of a hill, overlooking a lovely valley with ever changing moods. In the summer, there is no finer place you could be, but this time of year, I get ready to say goodbye to the sun ever hitting where our home sits.

If our winters are properly rainy, it’s not so bad, but the climate has been changing and there have been a number of sunny winters where it is obvious I sit in a shadow looking out at the sunny world. We will have to hope it sells in the summer, to folks who don’t think about the compass points, who don’t mind that the shop is 120 feet down the hill, the only really good place to grow food. I sometimes wonder if we will be able to get enough out of this property to finance the next stage of our lives, but we recently paid it off in full.

But now, we have an opportunity to buy the 3 useless acres up the hill from us. There is a very small stand of timber, and it is conceivable this could be a draw to a potential buyer, before he realizes it will be practically impossible to harvest at a profit. But if someone else buys it and decides to go for it, it could really wreck our weather and be a blight on our view….if it were to even ever happen. Pretty much, I feel this would be throwing good money after bad.

And so it goes….


Procrastination and Derailment

I’ve gone through some significant changes the last three weeks. I’ve not consumed any cannabis, and slacked off on m exercise most shamefully. I had it in mind that because I got off work early, I could get a jump on my laundry, and earlier in the day I had plans to copy a CD and do some of the mindfulness exercises, since I would have the house to myself tonight.

What did I do? I used the weed whacker doing stuff I don’t know makes any difference and began listening to a story I’d listened to many years ago. I thin I enjoyed it more the second time. I just finished it, having sat on my ass all night playing games while listening.

Now, after midnight, it’s too late to do anything but the most basic. I could have totally still listened to this book and accomplished many tasks at a decent hour. Why? Why have I done it? I’ve got to find that webinar about getting organized. If I have a signal tomorrow, I could watch it if I get a chance….Fuck Fuck and Fuck.

I can’t help wondering if I would have gotten more done had I gone ahead and used cannabis. I also wonder if I haven’t trained my brain to only work well, be motivated, in the doing mind, if I am high.

When I decided to exercise after work,  I pretty much made up my mind ahead of time, that I would need to use cannabis to succeed. When my mood went sidewise, it seemed like maybe my increased usage was partly at fault. And I’d already suspected that I had trained my brain as described above.

I don’t know if I’ve gone two or three weeks without. I haven’t noticed any improvement in my self motivation, though I must admit my moods have not been as violent. I’ve surface fairly well above the last depression, though I do not think I am out of the woods yet.

Maybe if I could get back on track exercising, and taking care of business. I’m just glad I’m blogging sober. I don’t write much sober at all. I don’t feel like it most of the time. I’d stopped writing while high, too. I wasn’t ending up with anything worthwhile, so why bother. Instead I turned to selfie videos as a way to try and capture the thoughts that seem so profound when I am enjoying a high. (It doesn’t work).

And I didn’t enjoy the last few highs I’d had. It’s been pretty easy to not use. I’m going to stay with it, work on the mindfulness and get back into exercising. I’ve got to get a handle on managing my life, though.

I need to get to bed at a decent hour. There’s this self sabotaging pull to just fuck that up all the time. There’s a helpless deliberateness about it that is very puzzling. I really need to get to bed now. I’m worried about my job tomorrow. I know it will be alright. I’m still worried.

The End

When both your parents are gone, you’d have to be incredible deluded if you refused to come to the acknowledgement that you too are mortal. And so you try to find out what it all means. But you don’t like the answers you come up with. Would getting a kitten make everything okay?

I’m trying to help out with the Garden Club. I flamed out on Coast Watch. I’m so weak. But maybe that’s because I don’t have it figured out, how to help. How to give back. I pray for guidance, but it all gets screwed up because I’ve been trying to find some kind of shortcut, since I can’t see the way for myself.

Falling apart on purpose

I did a lot of video blogging this weekend but the gist of it was, I tried to have a manic episode to connect with a mysterious spiritual side of myself that I thought might have answers. I sure got answers, but no guidance. It was like, “You made your bed, so this is where you have to sleep.” But I can foul up my sleep so easy.

I lay down this afternoon and everything went white behind my eyelids and I thought, I have succeeded in losing my self importance. There was a vision “TH” had a large part, the dandelion battle. I am not comforted by what I once was. I clawed my way back to my life and saw everything as a big mistake. I really didn’t know how to get a handle on anything, but I had written a list.

I crossed everything off the list, but I still haven’t done what wasn’t on the list. But it all came down to the questions, “What are we trying to accomplish out here? Country living? We will be swallowed or washed away.”

I took so much video. I don’t think even I can stand to watch it all. It might be hard to get it off my phone now. I had my chance. I pray to God everything will be back to normal tomorrow. I can go back to being self important. and try not to be too butt hurt when no once else holds me in such high regard. It’s safer this way I guess.


I dropped my fecal occult test off at the lab at 10:10 a.m. and they left a voicemail on my home phone asking me to call them; time stamped 1:38 p.m.. I called at 4:55 and the switchboard woman told me they’d turned their phones off, but she said they returned calls at the end of the day, so she thought they’d call me with anything urgent. Maybe they just wanted to tell me “Uhhhh, you dropped off a bunch of shit today, and we don’t appreciate it.” Maybe I did the test wrong. Or maybe they’re really on top of things and they did the test and the result was, “Shit!” Then again, maybe they realized this is a scary thing to face and wanted to share the good news with me as soon as possible.

I guess I have till Monday to find out for sure. Joy.

I’ve got to run back into town and pick up some food for George’s day here. Some bread and sandwich meat. Some kind of beverage. I really lack imagination in the culinary department lately, but there’s a 9 mile detour in effect started at 8:00 p.m., so I need to get over a few things fast.

So, I’m back from town and I started in on the alcohol again. I made a white russian, but went a little light on the kahlua so I added sloe gin and baileys and managed to make it taste like cough syrup. Next, saving on milk, I made a B52, with the idea that housework will be so much better with a buzz, and maybe it will counteract the tea I drank before I made my town run.

That worked pretty well. I managed to fill my car with gas. It was on E! Good time to use the 20 cents a gallon off. And I navigated the grocery store with no problems. Hopefully I brought home enough.

I wanted to sip my cocktail and wax philosophical over my impending mortality. I’m just rationalizing, really. I’ve been planning a vacation to Banff/Lake Louise. It will end up costing thousands if I follow through.

I’m not worried about the cost. The payout from my Mom’s estate should leave me with enough to throw away. I’d probably be better off to forget I have a passport and just save for my old age. But maybe I won’t have an old age. And paying for cancer can get very expensive. If I have it, hopefully I will find I have enough insurance.

I’ll be expected to do meaningful things with the time I have left. The other thing the inheritance has allowed me to do is substantially pay off my house. They haven’t logged it yet, but I owe about $25,000.00 after this next payment I make. It’s estimated I will get a further 60K, so 15000 on a vacation still leaves me with 20K to invest. I’ve got a good amount in savings, and all other obligations happening on a monthly scale. Perhaps the 20K will go toward the downstairs building and the decks.

The thing is, my ultimate goal was to pay off the house, thinking that would occur shortly before I turned 62. Instead, I am up 10 years, if I can expect good health. That is kind of in question now, since I have seen blood in my stool and there is this question of the results of the fecal occult test. Perhaps my days are numbered.

This begs the question, what I have I to leave behind? Is this place going to be worth anything to the next person? That is why another garage would be a good investment. The shop is what will sell this place, not my waterfall or my horse statue.

I’m posting on this page because I think I’ve succeeded at making this private, not traceable to my real self. I posted the first three paragraphs on a page that links to facebook, but this here page, no one sees. No one cares who does see. Am I right?

Well, I’ve achieved the kind of buzz that should make my adventure of housekeeping painless. I’ll shoot this into the cyberspace and see what happens.


Antihistamine and Marijuana?

You will scoff and say with scorn, is that going to be your excuse? But, I don’t need an excuse anymore, and it makes sense to me. Cannabis regularly dried up your mouth and eyes. Why wouldn’t it do that to your nose as well?

I figured out why I was fooled into thinking you could get an OMMP card, (or green card, as Ciera’s foolish stepdad calls it) for having a bipolar disorder. It’s because somehow, it got on leafly that certain types of bud were good for treating it. You can add any ol’ thing you want and it’ll pop up there. I’m waiting to see if my runny nose becomes a frequently chosen medical symptom.

Just saw a thing about Button Tapper Press. That’s a good name.

What good is all us creating stories? Someone will probably mine them to make more visible entertainment. And us, we get out of it the pleasure of creating something good.
Kristi has written a few smutty novelettes. She has a bit of a lecture at the front and back, and I’m not sure how that’s gonna fly. Guess it depends on how much everybody likes the characters. I like that she uses a character from her first book as a fairly large part of the second book. Even though I never read the first one. Don’t think I want to read the first one, but that’s because my pheromones are broken.

I’m pretty sure John was hoping my using Cannabis would net him some sex, like the good old days. It’s talks like this that make me want to be sure there’s no identifiable information on this blog. My poor heartdaughter would be mortified.TMI!

There are plenty of links in this blog now to identify me, but the point is rather, no one gives a shit to identify me. They are pretty busy with their own lives. Go ahead, have a stoney blog and don’t bother me. To be honest, I should probably change the tag line of my blog, being about bioplar thoughts and struggles. I’m not struggling so much anymore. I got it handled. Now, it’s time to clean up the house a bit. Just because I still have a drippy nose, wait, no I don’t. Okay I’ve really got to whip my self to do some basic maintenance around here.

Really, time to publish and get some housework done, so next weekend can be super awesome!

Buggin Me

I have to admit, I’ve been irritable lately. I flipped out a little because my kitchen had gnats, fruit flies, flying around as I was trying to make my salad, finding out that the refrigerator had frozen my veggies and ruined them. Okay, that’s enough to piss someone off, but I gave loud voice to my frustration.

I got chapped again at work, definitely more crabby than usual.Did it come from my weekend of weed smoking? I seem to recall I was crabby last Friday as well. Hard to concentrate on numbers, figure things out. Not really improved today. But not worse.  wasn’t able to have a meeting with my supervisor and boss, though, both being absent.

I confessed to a few at work that I had bought 3 grams of weed at Stonies, something I really hadn’t planned on doing. It doesn’t need to get around at work, but that’s a done deal now. Great. I have anxiety that the business isn’t going as well as the boss thinks it is.

I realize that all of this is of my own making. This is just a log of what may be side effects of using cannabis for a person with bipolar. I just did a little research and I can’t remember where I got the idea that I could have gotten an OMMP card because I have bipolar. Depression isn’t even a qualifying condition.

I also read an article about Depression and medical marijuana

Small doses. I have felt beneficial effects from occasional use, but I used quite a bit this past weekend, being unsupervised and in possession of plentiful fresh buds. In reading past posts, I talked about how I stay away from candy and caffeine for my health.I have been doing all three, too much weed, candy and sugared tea. And now my brain wants to rebel.

That’s all for now. My log of bipolar symptoms and my journey through the legalization of weed in my state. I got a surplus of candy still at the house, but I can quit using caffeinated teas and lay off the weed for a while. I’ll try to check back in here, to log my success or failure and chart my mood. I know you can’t wait.