To those of you who struggled through my first edition of this blog…here it is again after  some much needed sleep! Thanks for bearing with me!

Well, so my music doesn\’t match my mood. I\’ve had to play some really mellow stuff the last couple of days or the men in the white coats would be getting me off of the roof. Yes, I admit it, bi-polar runs in our family. That and a plethera of other mental illnesses. Hey, what do you want form a southern family: NORMAL? Sorry, thought you knew that crazy goes with the territory. Seriously though friends, even though I recognise that I am probably borderline manic/depressive, I\’ve learned over the years to somewhat modify the thing and more lately to even harness the beast and use it as a sort of gibbering muse. For those of you who dont know me, I began my hiv meds back in August of  08 and went through what I would describe as two months of mental hell. The physical side effects paled in comparison to the brainstorm that hit me. My Doctor has a theory that I had been harboring a brain infection of some sort and as the meds knocked the hiv back, my natural immune system began getting rid of the infection. In retrospect , I can now see that over the past 2 years, my mental facuilties had become as dull as a rusty butterknife.  During the first two monts of the meds, the best wasy I can describe what went on in my head was that it felt like my brain had been short-circuited and was being "re-wired", or maybe "re-mapped" if you will. Memories that were long lost  (or so I thought" began hitting me in rapid succession and I experienced constant free association between everyday experience and those memories. It was like sci-fi, but believe me, it wasn\’t you fun kind of sci-fi ! It was like an acid trip gone horribly wrong. FOr 2 months, I  lived between being huddled under a blaanket on the sofa or in the guest room to being on the computer. I barely slept for those two months and onnly bathed when my husband reminded me to (yuck!). I experience audio hallucinations that were a bit disturbing but not really frightening. Even then I had enough objectivity to *know* that I was "hearing things". It was during this time that my crazy muse made an apperance. I began to stay at the keyboard all night, writing, writing , writing. If I wasnt at the computer I had to keep pen and paper nearby to scribble down the insane things that bubbled up out of my scalded brain. Im still going back over this material and deciding what is salvagable and what was basicly my brain making "white noise. I began to form an idea that maybe…just *maybe* I could start to write again; a natural gift that I had let wither in my late teens when lifel pretty much consisted of surviving aftter my family kicked me out. Not too many people are able to write while being homeless, or at least I wasn\’t ! For whatever reason, on the meds,  it all came rushing…no, SMASHING  back to me, and none to gently.I began to have a glimmer of hope that a gift that I was given and had let die from lack of nourishment (yes, I take responsibility for that too) might spring back to life and I might even see it through to a completed  project…..something that my life has NOT been known for. Even when I tested positive nearly 23 years ago, it didn\’t jolt me out of my complacent rut. I had long before developed a pattern in grade school of doing "just enough to get by; something that has followed me ever since….I get the job done and you can count on me…but  there are few frills…Adam , my partner and best friend has always been an over-achiever and for the life of me I don\’t see what the hell he sees in me. I have learned, and am still learning, by his example what it means to give deeply of ones self, above the call of duty and also just what "going the extra mile" means. He encourages my mad writings and has even supports my rediculous idea that I might do a stand-up routine on open mic night at one of the local Atlanta comedy clubs. The thought makes my pulse RACE and it also makes me want to run to the bathroom if you catch my drift. Now I know that one of my husbands duties as a good mate is to laugh at all my dumb crap, my corny jokes,and my endless and repeated stories about my insane family, but sowhere inside a little voice keeps whispering…."what if"?  Adam has had a multi-facited life that has included dancing with the Atlanta Ballett and being a gymnastic instructor and choriographer before a double hip replacement put a crashing end to all that. He rarely induges in self pity but occasionally it does make him sad when he reflects on what was lost.  He says that "his wings were clipped" and now he has to make a new life as a gronded bird. I get really choked up when I hear stuff like that. We were eating out one night and at an adjacent table there sat a group of  pretty young twinks,  blabbering about whatever the trendiest thing was….I was enjoying evesdropping on their chatter untill I heard one young queen say something loudly that I took to be aimed in Adams direction. In the small town that is Atlanta, the degrees of seperation are miniscule just as a good inbred southern family out to be and nearly everybody knows everybodys story at least in part. When I hear the young thing blurt a comment about the" old has-been in the red sweatshirt, it was me who saw red….I turned to him as he was barely two feet away from us and said sweetly " Well Squaubie, It is MUCH better to be an old has-been….than a NEVER WAS." ( fi you dont know what squab is, look it up) Adam let loose with one of his racious laughs that I love so much and for the rest of the meal you could barely hear a peep from the peeps…

……But all that is to say: That is what I feel like most days :  A middle-aged NEVER_WAS…… And there it is, the ugly truth. I\’ve lived out most of my life inside my head, building daydreams while I should have been building screenplays, musicals and comedys and soundstages; building  a carear. At the very least I should have been nurturing my natural god-given talent….

After the first two months on the meds, the tsunamu of brain chatter eased off but I was left with a new mantal acuity that my doctor noticed right away. I\’m back to being my outspoken demanding self and my own health advocate again. Sadly, the huge rush of writing has also lessened also. I realised after all these years that I am NOT bi-polar….just horribley, terribly ADD. If they had had Ritalin when I was in grade school I would have been the Drug companys  Poster child….I might have also had an academic carear…..Enough of the "woudda, couldda, shoulda", I made and appointment with my doctors resident shrink ( lovely woman named Enot by the way) and she had me pretty much pegged within the first 30 minutes of the hour I shared with her. When she asked me " Are you a counter dear?" My head must have jerked up or something because she KNEW ! Obsessivly counting nearly anything has been something that has plagued me since childhood: steps to the front landing….how many squares of sidewalk  around the block to our house…and on and on and on. It\’s a part of my obsessive-compulsive nature that has been a part of me since I can remember. I get caught in a loop that is hard to break once it starts. It hit critical mass the first two monhts on meds when I would make  continous circuits  checking the front door to be sure it was locked, to making sure the gas oven and stove top burners were off (so we wouldn\’t die in our sleep) and back again….and again…and again. I can laugh now, but poor Adam!  If he didn\’t have me committed during those two months, he is either a total pain pig or he really does love me!

So yes folks, I am on the dreaded psych meds as well. Good old Ritalin. I had avoided psych meds in great part because Ive seen what they  have done to some of my relatives. Now I am the first to say that there are SOME people out there whos’ lives are totally out of control, BUT i also (personally) believe that there are far too many pill-happy doctors that are all too eager to throw chenicals at a person when a good old fashoned psycologist might do the job even if coupled with the meds. My doctor had me on ZOLOFT about 12 years ago and when I attended my fathers funeral and felt NOTHING, it sent up a red flag. I realised that I wasn\’t clinicly depressed….I was a sad, pissed off man that had a lot of unresolved issues with his family. Taking the Zoloft took that way alright….it took away the sadness, and anger….RIGHT along with the joy….right along with the creative element that is essential to who I AM." I\’m not sure what gave me the insight to see that whatever it is that makes me a little crazy at times; whatever is the biological screw that comes loose occasionally, is also the essential that is woven in to the fabric of who I am and what makes me a creative person. it\’a a package deal folks: Love me , love my bat-shit crazies. My first cousin Michael is a diagnosed schizophrenic who sometimes will go off his meds because they make him "feel dead inside". I can relate to that and somhow I have to make it all balance. I have to harness my muse without killing heror driving her away> I must admit, the Ritilin has helped my mental focus somewhat, but as in all drugs there is a tradeoff. In this case it can tear my stomach up if I don\’t remember to take food with it….It can build up in my system and actually do the very opposite of its objective : put my into hyper-spaz mode, spinnng my  proverbial mental wheels but gettting nowhere…..

……Seven months into hiv treatment and three months on Ritalin, my muse has begun to visit again. She isn\’t usually  as obnoxiously loud and demanding as she was in those first two months…Sometimes I miss that, but it is also a relief. I\’ve learned though, when she \’speaks", I need to drop what I\’m doing and grab pen, paper, or keyboard and get it down right THEN or it may be lost forever. She doesn\’t like repeating herself which I find so ironc in light of my usual OCD. Adam is very …I reapeat …VERY understanding and supportave. If he comes home from work and the dishes aren\’t done and the clothes are clean but still in the dryer….well, he seems to take it in stride. I\’m not a total flake by the way and I\’m there for him. When he had his hear attack 1 1/2 years ago, I snapped into focus when I had to. I guess I have my family to thank for that;  Totally dysfunctional on a day-to-day basis but if there was a crisis, we always circled our wagons and took care of the matter before returning to our usual bag-of-nuts life. I seen to be struggling with the concept of disipline pretty late in life. I always kept a job and made just enough to live alone and keep a roof over my head but never had the discipline or the hunger to work for better…or to hope for better for that matter. Now, I\’m definetly middle aged and I\’m wondering " Is it too late to expect more of myself? Have I missed the proverbial boat?  Will I die being a Never WAS?

Thanks for indulging my mental regurgitation folks…. I am SO grateful to everyone here who has extended their hand of friendship….I\’m not spending nearly as much time on the Tribe as I did those first two months but I\’m really trying to make what little contribution that I can here a positive and uplifting one…..If that is just too "Rebecca-of-Sunnybrook -Freekin-Farm " for you, then you can just sue me!

Peace, Love and Laughs,

Loki, over and out