Growing up I always thought that the goal of life was growing up.

I wouldn’t say I rushed through my childhood or high school or anything of that nature. But I just always looked forward to the day when I was older and had a career and was part of society.

And in the meantime I missed the only thing until now that I’ve been good at and comfortable doing: academia.

I wish I could stay in academia forever. But it is expensive and has diminishing returns for the career field.

The real world is fun for some people, but I don’t find it very stimulating. The types of conversations I like to have are academic in nature. The types of ideas I like to think about are esoteric.

I still read quite a bit, when I have time. But I’m not very good at analysis. I need an instructor for that. I’m not a type to get a college education at a library. Beyond that, my book selections have turned from philosophy and architectural theory to sci-fi and children’s classics.

Growing up has been a big disappointment for me, the biggest in fact. I haven’t been very good at it, I haven’t adapted to it well, and I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin as an adult. Most of the time I still feel like a kid, high school age, maybe early 20s. It saddens me when I look back at pictures from those times and I realize how far from that life I really am. I certainly don’t feel this old and bloated.

I miss the days of band practice and hacky sack. I’ve traded them in for wet wipes and diapers.

Bipolar Thoughts

I’ve been manic for about a week now.

People might wonder how I know I’m manic or what it feels like. For me, it is an unusual amount of energy and creativity, coupled with reckless decision making, and most jarring is an inability to stay sitting down for more than a few minutes.

Now I have never suffered from severe mania, I go through low-grade mania or hypomania. And I take Lithium to stop that from spiking into something more dangerous.

But I can tell you a few things about this bout with mania. I got the idea to start my own website and a blog, bought an expensive laptop to help me do it, wrote thirty blogs complete, and started about a dozen more, agreed to start a weekly podcast, barely gotten a full night of sleep even though I’m dropping a Trazadone, Ambien, and Klonopin to knock me out, got drunk alone in my house just once, didn’t eat breakfast or dinner for five straight days, and couldn’t sit through a single half hour sitcom with my wife for a week.

I’ve never done any kind of “uppers” before, but I’m told by several people that cocaine is a similar experience to being manic and not even ‘that’ manic, just average.

And thankfully, due to the Lithium, this wasn’t too bad. At least I was able to channel my energy in a positive fashion and I’m hoping that the pursuance of these creative ends will mellow my next wave of depression, which if history dictates, should be right around the corner.

One positive side-effect of being manic is that while your thoughts are racing through your head, if you can slow them down enough to focus on one or two they tend to be positive. They can be destructive, like ‘hey let’s drink’ or ‘go buy that useless thing’ or even much worse. But they can also be very inspiring like ‘hey you can build that thing’ or ‘that idea you had one time was brilliant, let’s make it happen’.

They say people with bipolar tend to start a lot of projects and finish none of them. We get in cycles of manically inspired ideas and depression killed goals. It is easy to do. One day your brain tells you something is a great idea and the next your brain is telling you that you are too worthless to even attempt it.

It is a struggle, and while I am still a little up right now, I hoping to make these projects stick.


This morning I found myself staring at my daughter, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at me while I was peeing.

It was incredibly awkward for me but fascinating for her, as her look of surprise and excited “OHHHHHHH!” noise she was making was telling me.

I was just happy she didn’t come in nearer.

We baby proofed the house. We put cabinet locks on all the cabinets but one; she loves to play with pots and pans. We put corner guards on corners, and blankets over the open slate of the fireplace. We watch whatever she does and try to keep her out of harm’s way even though she is dead set on hurting herself.

But I suppose we are still learning to baby proof our lives. Little things like closing the bathroom door all the way so any toddler strolling along can’t push open the door.

I find some of the biggest things are some of the little stuff no one tells you about. How difficult it is to cook dinner, take a shower, shovel the driveway or cut the grass. My daughter is at a stage that requires constant attention. She is walking but not well enough to protect from really hurting herself if she falls. Either my wife or I have to be with her near constantly, watching her alone is a full time job.

I am constantly in wonder of people with three or four kids. Just the logistics of dinner or bedtime makes my stomach churn. I suppose the reality is that you do learn to baby proof your life. I suppose I probably am better at it now then I was a year ago, but it doesn’t feel like it.

People talk about expense of having babies, but to me, it’s time that is the real problem.

Time and having a little human watch you pee in the morning.


I will try to upkeep a schedule of posting every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday, at least one post per posting day.

Quick update on tonight. I left work an hour early due to severe anxiety and came home and swallowed 6 mg of Klonopin, bringing my daily total up to seven. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. I just laid down and went to sleep. I woke up hungover.

That was my day today.