Bolonga

This is starting to feel a little silly since I haven't had anyone in all of North America visit my blog since the week I created it.  I feel unpleasantly like Doogie Houser writing his stupid journal entries at the end of every episode.  Jimmy cracked corn and I don't care.  My bologna has a first name; it's O-S-C-A-R.  Those two sentences were about as worthwhile to write as any of the others here.  I think I might have adult onset attention deficit disorder.  I have spells where I can't focus on anything for more than about a minute.  Apparently, mood swings and excessive sleeping can be symptoms of ADD as well.  One of my coworkers was diagnosed with it a couple of years ago, and he says it sounds like that is exactly what I have.  I always thought of ADD as being what the fidgety unteachable little douche bag in the back of my middle school classes had.  I can be still and quiet with no difficulty, but I'll be damned if I can do more than about eight trigonometry problems before I find myself staring off into space and drumming out a random tune with my pen on my notebook.  It is extremely frustrating, but I don't really seem to be able to force myself to focus.  My bologna has a second name; it's M-A-Y-E-R.

Frustration

The psychiatrist's office called me back today.  They gave me the first available appointment which is at the end of March.  It is a wonder that the suicide rate in Anderson county isn't the highest in the state.  The response time for the mental health facilities around here is a bad joke.  I'm not in such a condition that I would harm myself, but I'm sure there are plenty of people who are, and they probably aren't getting help any faster than I am.  At this point I don't even really want to talk to the doctor.  I just want him to give me some kind of pill to make me feel better.  I have this almost constant feeling that there is something I'm supposed to be doing.  I don't know what it is, but it feels important.  I get stressed out and frustrated that I know I need to do whatever it is, but I can't remember what I should be doing.  Then this knot of tension starts in my stomach and neck that makes me want to throw up.  Sometimes I get angry and have to struggle not to lash out at people, and other times my hands shake and I start crying uncontrollably.  The only thing that makes me feel better is working out until I'm exhausted, and that is starting not to work.  At first I felt okay for a couple of days, but now it doesn't last long at all.  I worked out last night from nine to ten o'clock, and I started feeling bad again not much more than twelve hours later.  At least I'm going to get in shape.

As it turns out, it was a mistake to try to have a theme in my blog posts.  No one is reading it, so of course no one is adding to it.  That makes it particularly difficult to react to and write about what is posted on my blog.  Now I kind of feel like I'm just writing in a diary or something since I am the only person that is actually seeing this.  When I was a kid my parents made me keep a journal; they thought I was too emotionally bottled up or detached or something.  They were right.  I wrote in my journal every day and never once metioned how I felt.  I know this because I found the journal about ten years later and read it.  I guess thte joke's on me... now I'm just waiting on a call back from a psychiatrist so I can hopefully figure something out so I will be able to do all of those emotion based things that adults are supposed to be able to do.  I should be able to control my temper.  I should be able to keep from crying at random inappropriate moments for no reason.  I should be able to be at least moderately happy on occasion so I don't have to fake it to keep from upsetting my wife.  I think I've needed to see a shrink for a while now, but it always seemed ridiculous to need someone else to help me get a hold of my emotions.  Now I can't wait to hear back from the psychiatrists office so I can go and maybe get at least a little normality back to my life.

I'm going to try to quit smoking.  That is not anything new in the fail category, but maybe I will really do it this time.  Mark Twain wrote "Quitting smoking is the easiest thing in the world; I've done it a thousand times."  I haven't tried a thousand times, but I've got my fair share of attempts under my belt.
I once quit for about a year.  I felt great and lost about thirty-five pounds in the process.  Quitting also decreased the number of headaches I got after a while.  So with all of these great reasons to quit why don't I?  Because I am weak willed enough to let an addiction to nicotine control my decisions.  This is one blog topic I really hope I can get right.

Fail number one... didn't have my blog posted by the deadline for my English class.  I went out with a friend this evening and forgot that I had this due.  So it is now about twelve thirty and I'm holding up a board game to do this.  We're playing Blokus, which is a really complex spacial strategy game that doesn't go well with a couple of beers.  Also, I'm half watching The Late Late Show while writing this, so my game is really suffering.  Maybe I'll get two fails in one night...  Several minutes later and I have successfully failed at beating Janice at Blokus.

Now that I think about it, since I am trying to fail at something each week for this blog, every failure is a success.  I think I accidentally achieved perfection by attempting to fail.  Since I am no longer capable of failure, I don't think I can write this blog anymore.  That will probably mean I will fail my English class, so I better stop philosophising and keep up the blog.

Inviting Failure

     Deciding what parts of my life are suitable for public consumption is tough.
     Nothing I do is really so out-of-the-ordinary that anyone would want to read it.  I probably won't even want to read it when I finish writing it.  Shouldn't everyone feel that way about their life?  "Of course everything I do is normal...  I did it, didn't I?"
     When something goes horribly wrong it might be interesting just because it is unplanned, which gives me an idea.  In an attempt to make my writing more enjoyable I am going to fail horribly at something at least once a week so I can write about it.
    Please appreciate the effort I am putting into adding an element of interest to my life.  I am by nature a very cautious person, so this will be a challenge for me.  Usually if I think I will fail at something I just don't do it.  That is the reason I'm in my first semester of college at thirty-one.  College was intimidating when I was eighteen, so I didn't go.
     I'm hoping my new plan to fail at something each week will be therapeutic, and I won't be so uptight about trying new things.  This is where the awesome interactivity of blogging will be a help.  If you have a suggestion of something I can attempt and hopefully fail, post it here.  I promise I'll try to work up the nerve to do it.  I have no intention of risking my life, but feel free to suggest whatever you want.  I look forward to your input.