Wearing The Genes

One of the things I think many of us struggle with, but not many of us will accept, is the notion of weak-mindedness. That we, as people with mental health disorders, are quite simply inferior to those of sound mind, and especially those of sound body and mind. Not many of us will admit to this suspicion, myself included. For one thing, it flies in the face of what many of us are taught in therapy, and also such an admission isn't particularly good for self-esteem. But what exactly is weak-mindedness, and must it necessarily be a bad thing?

When I think of weak-mindedness, I think of my dad. My dad was an alcoholic, but the weakness in his case wasn't the alcoholism itself. It was the fact that he never attempted to fight it, surrendering the initiative and all possibility of redemption. My dad knew that he had made the wrong choices in life, and I think he figured that a little weakness and indulgence at the end wasn't going to make too much of a difference. It cost us a dad, but then he'd never really been a proper dad. So in reality it didn't cost us very much at all.

Then there are the "weakness" traits from my mum's side of the family, which have more to do with obsession, greed and lust. Too much that was repressed; too many atomic bombs waiting to go off. Last night I was talking to my brother for the first time in a long time, and I saw a side to him that I hadn't seen before, and that I really hoped wasn't there. It was the side of me that I wish wasn't there, and I honestly hoped that my prolonged exile from the family would have meant they weren't "contaminated" like I was. But what can you do when the genes get involved? Surrender free will completely?

If I'm honest, I quite like my weak-mindedness. I find that the "softness" enhances mental flexibility and dexterity, and that this in turn enhances creativity. But the real world does not concur, and the real world is right. Strong-mindedness isn't an achievement; it's a basic prerequisite to partake of the real world. When I find myself in "real" situations with "real" people, I become daunted and panic for an escape. I try to act humble, but the faux-humility is merely masking the weakness. I get scared, profoundly so. And when I get scared I get weak, and when I'm weak then I get sick. So I stay home. For now.

Facing The Front

Right then, time I faced this blog again. I've probably lost the handful of readers that I had, apologies that I've not been keeping up.

The hospital thing didn't happen. The only hospital within walking distance couldn't help me, and the only hospital that could help me would have meant getting on public transport which at the moment I can't do. I guess I'm relieved that I didn't get taken in, as I'm sure it would have been a bad experience and I probably would have been put on antipsychotics, which I'm determined to avoid as I figure there's no way back from there. And in any case, I've started having psychotherapy at a local mental health charity, which I figure will help me far more. I've been offered the tantalizing promise of being better able to integrate the internal world with the external world, although how this might work in reality I have absolutely no idea. But it's worth a shot because I have never felt as bad as I've been for the past 2 months or so, and I am determined to get out of the hole that I'm in.

One of the reasons I've not been able to face this blog recently is that I've been making endless resolutions about how to create a new and better me, get my head in the right place and keep it there. "Working the borderline" didn't quite fit these resolutions, so I figured that a "new and improved" me might necessitate a new and improved blog. But, alas, "working the borderline" is me. This is my stop; it's where I get off. "Working the borderline" is what I do, and is what I will continue to do. Even if it's not a valid thing to do, or even a thing that is done at all. It's what I want to do in music, and what I know I will do in life. It's what brings me to life, and that is good enough for me. So the blog stays, and I'll stay with it.

Nice to be back.

Surrendering The Initiative

Hmmm, well...bit of a backward step compared with the previous 2 posts. I've still been adopting the surrender mentality, but it didn't work so well today. I walked into town as I couldn't face the bus, and once there I felt so lost and confused. Surrender is all very well and has many virtues, but it does leave one feeling ever so vulnerable and exposed. ANYONE could have picked me off today, and I would have lain down meekly and accepted it.

I believe I'm "surrendering" for the right reasons. "Surrender" to reality, surrender to feelings and think less. But the trouble is that when I reject my thoughts, they get all nasty and seek to punish me. I try to concentrate on something external, but they pull me back in towards them and pile the pressure on until I surrender, not to reality but to them. So reality wants me to surrender to it, and my thoughts want me to surrender to them. I want to surrender to become a better person, but the net result is that no actual surrendering is ever done, because the different modes of surrender contradict each other.

And it is against this backdrop that I'm seriously considering surrendering my liberty. It's not a conscious thing, just a gradual acceptance that I'm sliding towards residential care without really putting up much of a fight. Because that's what we surrender monkeys do: we don't fight. We kid ourselves it's for the right reasons, and cite notions such as "humility" and "humanity". But surrender is still surrender, and like the French we'll probably feel ashamed about it later.

So tomorrow when I go out, I'm going out in potentialista mode. I figure that if I'm going out, I might as well go out in style. Last time I did that I got seriously scared, and it triggered my current crisis with public transport. But if I'm prepared to surrender my liberty then what the fuck have I got to lose? The things that I valued have already gone.

Right, I'm signing off. Have a good night and enjoy this Wiki definition of a potentialist.

Catching The Drift

So today I'm on one of those "right, I'm gonna get over myself and STAY over myself" missions. Been here so many times before, but somehow I never seem to make it stick. A lack of discipline? A lack of self-control? There's possibly an element of that, but I think the main reason is that whenever I try to impose restrictions on my mind, I tend to feel worse than when I don't. But since no restrictions is weakening me just as much these days, then it can't really hurt to impose a little discipline. Can it?

Whenever I adopt this type of mental state, a strange thing happens to my writing. I want to write more; however I feel compelled to write less. I want to write more because "get over yourself" seems to be a message worth sharing, especially with those who may be going through similar issues (although you do have to be careful as you run the risk of patronizing people). I think the keyword here is "share"...this frame of mind has messages that are genuinely worth sharing, even if it's just copying and pasting tried and tested words of wisdom. With other frames of mind the urge to write may be stronger; however this may be negated by the fact that what you're saying really only applies to yourself, and the vindication of your own compulsions. And where it gets tricky is that more often than not, the latter is of a higher standard than the former. I'm really big on originality, and if the only messages worth sharing are the ones that have been said a million times before, I honestly find it difficult to say them. If we use torrents as an analogy here, I'm the sort of person who would rather create and share my own torrents, rather than share those that are readily available elsewhere on the network.

What I'm getting at is that with this "get over yourself" frame of mind, writing feels like a part of myself that I need to "get over". The words come easier but the urge isn't there. And in the case of lyrics, the edge isn't there. I have a lyrics blog, but the stuff I've written on there so far is just schoolboy standard. I am aware that compulsion and necessity are things worth getting over, but it's hard to train yourself to be more measured and more middle-aged.

Working The Day Job

I've come to the decision that when I am ready to form a band, I will keep it amateur and work with people who have proper day jobs. At the moment I'm listening to a band called Arcana, which is apt because Arcana all have serious day jobs, such as university lecturer and head of marketing. They're professionals yes, but they're not music professionals. I'm sure that Arcana generates a decent income, but principally they're making their money elsewhere. I'm not naive enough to think that they're simply making music for love not money, but if there wasn't an element of that somewhere then they probably wouldn't find the time or the inclination to do it.

This is important to me because I've come to the conclusion that my differences with "professional" musicians are irreconcilible. I watched a documentary at the weekend about the putting together of a Sgt Pepper tribute album, which involved contemporary bands each recording a version of a Sgt Pepper song. I was paying particularly close attention to how professional musicians and producers conduct themselves in the studio, as I don't have that much direct experience of recording studios (apart from a music course I did a few years ago). What I found was that the ways in which they communicated are radically different from how I want to communicate with musicians I am working with. There are no specific examples that I can give; just a general sense that the lines of communication are experience- and industry-specific. Producers in particular speak and make in-jokes in cynical and weather-beaten tones that simply have no place in what I want to do. As their job title specifies, producers have made a clear and decisive choice in favor of productivity over potential, and will defend that choice with everything they have.

I know that this is the reality of the music industry, but it is a reality that I want to challenge and change. Because as far as I can see, there can be simply no excuse for the lack of an inspiration ethic. Industry-specific cynicism and frames of reference are no acceptable substitute, simply by virtue of the fact that they are divisive...ie, they draw up clear lines of distinction between those who are in the industry and those who are not. There's a similar thing in mental health: service providers vs service users, and in the adult industry too: smut peddlers vs wankers. There can be simply no excuse or justification for divisive forces at the expense of unifying forces. Professionalism may masquerade as an excuse, but it isn't. Yes there are industry-specific experiences that only the professionals have, but there are also universal experiences that we all have, and the latter are more important. And there are too many professionals who, upon becoming professionals, lose all respect for non-professionals who thus become "the market". So many musicians lose touch with the art and experience of listening, and that is unforgivable. Yes they'll listen to other people's music, but they'll listen almost exclusively as musicians and not as listeners.

If I work with musicians, I don't want to exchange knowing looks or weather-beaten in-jokes with them. I want to make them feel like the most creative and inspired musicians in the world. If I use sign and gesture to help me accomplish this, I want to do so in such a way that really makes the musicians feel as though we're doing something special and unique. Even if my technique isn't very good, the intention and the passion will be there, and that is what should count above all else. I want the creation of music to be less like a studio experience, and more like a religious experience. The clue's in the "creation" bit.

So I figure I'd be best off doing this with non-music professionals, as I figure that professionals in other industries might be in need of a decent excuse to put professionalism on the back burner for a while. Of course they will still be professional, but it is not a professionalism that is specific to the music industry, or to "making it" in the music industry. I'm particularly interested in musicians who went into non-musical industries largely because they share the same concerns about "music professionalism" that I have. I'm also interested in affiliated professions such as music teacher or music therapist, as I figure that a music therapist might give me a lot more leeway to experiment and explore than a music professional would. The important thing is to maintain the passion, enthusiasm and most of all the universal-ness of what it is that I'm trying to do. And if amateurism is a means of putting one foot in either camp and looking to build bridges between the two, then maybe that's the way forward.

Stick Technique

Wow, really got into the conducting tonight. It's only basic patterns that I'm learning, but I started to feel it and that's the main thing. I'm not worried too much about the fineries of technique as I know that will never be my strong suit. Of course technique is important, but if I worry too much about the correctness of technique then I'll go exactly the same way that I did with instruments. And at the end of the day I'm not looking to conduct orchestras; I'm simply looking to develop an interpretive and expressive language that will enable me to channel ideas in my head without using instruments or any other physical entity. And what really got me passionate about it tonight was that as I was nailng the beats in front of the mirror, I felt the music in my head being "shaped" accordingly. And I'm like "Damn, this shit works!"

Found some interesting conducting stuff on YouTube too. There's this one guy who conducts a jam band, and alternates between conducting the band and conducting the audience. Which is great, and pretty similar to what I want to do. My idea was always theoretical though, with artist and audience more as abstract concepts. But it got me thinking though: could I do it live? I'd have to get really good at it first, which I reckon would take me about 5 years or so. (Great to have a 5-year project to work on. Should keep any suicidal thoughts at bay). But watching this guy do his thing, I started to think that maybe I could do it live. And I started to envisage it...the different positions I would adopt, the different perspectives I would filter through position, the different and creative things I would use as interchangeable "batons" (I'm thinking firesticks!). It's definitely a possibility.

What mattered tonight was that, for the first time in a long time, I felt confident. I even smiled at myself in the mirror as I was practising my stick technique. I don't think I've ever smiled at myself in the mirror before. Maybe it's because I've got something else to look at!

Living The Life

Now I have something of a confession to make, and it's a confession that may cost me some readers. My confession is simply that I don't know how to live. Really. Not at all. Now I have a disorder that undermines my perception of reality, which in turn undermines my capacity to live, but that's no excuse and I know it. I figure it may cost me some readers because so many blogs and bloggers are actively promoting the aesthetics and ethics of living well. In other words, somebody who doesn't know how to live is a threat and/or an irrelevance.

To give an example, I was thinking of starting an erotic blog, but I've since discovered that most erotic blogs are basically recipes for life. Food stuff, but about sex instead of food, or sex as food. They may on the surface be about sex, but what they're really promoting is a lifestyle and the vindication of that lifestyle. Lifestyler writes blog, other lifestylers read and comment on blog; lifestyle re-affirmed and vindicated. So that kinda scared me off a bit...because my sex stuff isn't food stuff, it's just sex stuff. It isn't meant to be tasteful, and it isn't meant to register a tick against my name.

So what do I mean when I say that I don't know how to live? Well it's quite simple really...I'm on my own for long periods of time, and I can't figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do. I always end up resorting to what I need...I need to eat, I need to write, I need to think etc. But I need to breathe too, and I need to experience the kind of life-enhancing things that the Great Accumulators experience every day. Of course when I'm with someone it all becomes much clearer, and I remember that I need not to need too. But that's just feeding off the other person, and I know that professional lifestylers have serious issues with that. But professional lifestylers have serious issues with just about everything I represent, so maybe I should just ignore them. They won't go away, but they might become less prominent in my head.

Ach, stop thinking and just live, FFS!!

Manning The Station

A good day today. Held my nerve and composure when things could've gone seriously awry. It's not good when you're unstable and you know you're unstable, but it feels so damn good to stay on top of it. It's reaffirming; gives you a feeling of power over yourself, which is a precious thing when it happens all too infrequently.

I really can't articulate this any better right now. I could if I wanted to, but I don't want to think. And I am currently reading some beautiful mental health blogs which make my feeble efforts look rather less than beautiful. If I were to think right now, I would think about why beauty is such an alien concept to me.

"Because you're thinking", is probably the answer to that one. I think, therefore I don't feel. Cogito ergo something-or-other.

Oh and somebody remind me to read more. These people read books and it makes them better people than I am. Fact. And fiction.

Come on now, don't spoil a good day...

Grasping The Baton

Brilliant..I am now officially a conductor! Well not really...I've just finally got round to the inevitable and understood that what I want to do in music has many parallels with conducting, and also that the "space" I intend to occupy (ie, between artist and audience) is similar to that of a conductor. And since I want to communicate music indirectly through hand gestures and the like, it seems like the obvious path for me to take. Now there are sharp differences between my thing and conducting; the principle difference being that "my thing" is coming from a completely different place and has been developed for completely different reasons. But teaching myself the fundamentals of conducting will give me the kind of classical and practical grounding that I've never really had, and that I think musicians have always resented me for.

So I finally got round to reading some introductory conducting literature tonight. Nothing too heavy...just the wikipedia entry and a chapter from an essay. And what I noticed was that the more I read, the more I started to get the feeling that "I can do this". Now because of my problems with co-ordination, dexterity and general "object engagement", I've never had that "can-do" experience with anything musical before. But I had it tonight. And I also got the feeling that many of the ideas I have about music exist in conducting already. At times it felt like I was reading something that was written in my language, and I very rarely get that experience too.

So why has it taken me so long to come round to the idea of conducting? Well, a couple of things really. Firstly, I always thought of a conductor as a highly skilled classical musician who must prove himself as a musician first, rather than simply being "one who conducts". But since I don't want to make classical music, this really shouldn't be as much of a problem as I always thought it was. And secondly, I did not feel comfortable with the idea of myself as some sort of "musical director". I felt that, as a non-musician with no discernible musical skills, "musical director" would be claiming for myself a title to which I did not deserve, and could not possibly justify to seasoned and experienced musicians. But I am now comfortable with the knowledge that what I want to do isn't "me the director, you the directed to". It is simply a question of direction.

Anyway, I'll write more when I have read more and learned more. This post was simply to make the declaration in order to hold myself to it.

Closing The Deal

I got a sale today...yippee! My first sale in 2 months! (I do affiliate-related stuff in some dark murky corner of the blogosphere, none of which I will bore you with here). I'm actually quite relieved because I was convinced that my stats and accounts had been hacked into by a rogue blogger who fucked my firefox up. And I'm not going to believe it until I actually hold the check in my hand, which is some way off yet due to international check-clearing charges.

But it does feel good to get a sale. I hate to admit it, but it makes me feel like a man. Delivering the goods, end product, and other macho crap that we potentialistas are so loathe to embrace. Except that it isn't macho crap though, is it? It's survival; it's doing what a man needs to do to put food on the table. Of course a woman can be a producer too, but the man who relies on meeting a productive woman really isn't much of a man.

And this is the problem with the potentialista in me, and the idea I describe in my blog description. The idea in itself can work, I am convinced of that; but it is too dependent on external forces, finding the right context, and getting the wind to blow the right way. Things have started to turn in my favour recently, and the reason they have turned is because I have turned. Away from the potential and into the productive. I have been stuck in potential mode for the last 5 years, and I cannot remember a single occasion when I felt as though things were turning in my favour. And if that isn't telling me something, then I probably don't deserve to learn my lessons anyway.

But still the niggling force in me remains. The force that is telling me not to remove the blog description, in case some passing muso or artist thinks "I've been looking for something like that all my life!" The force that hopes and believes, rather than the force that knows and understands. And as I write these words now, I'm wondering whether every single word I write will undo all the good work I've done recently.

Maybe the sales will close the deal for me; the accumulation process gradually eroding the acceleration process. I even found myself describing the joys of statistics last night, so maybe I've closed it already! And as I look deep into my stats, I'm seeing zeros and ones. Ticks and crosses, yays and nays, warm handshakes all round. So good to be back.

(Not) Taking The Medicine

I'm relieved to discover that taking less of the anti-epilepsy medicine is having a beneficial effect on my sleeping hours. (This is going to be the last mention of sleep, as Adsense is beginning to misrepresent the nature of this blog). I've been meaning to cut down on that stuff for a while now, as I'm sure that the intensity it gives me has contributed to the collapse of my nervous system.

I've been taking anti-epilepsy medication since I was 14, so it's over 16 years now. I don't have seizures anymore, but I do get dizzy spells whnenever I've tried to come off it completely. The main reason I continue to take it is for concentration, and maybe as a mood stabilizer although I'm not sure about that. But it does make me feel intense, and I don't like to see that in myself. Compromise and moderation are always good (?), so less has to be more.

I've got a good regime going today. Pushing up when I want to, and dropping down when I have to, and not really feeling the effects of the exertion. That's how it should be...smooth, fluid and inherently musical.

Summoning The Muse

Ok so today I'm allowing myself to slip into the bad old ways. Deliberately and knowingly, but probably not irredeemably. The bad old ways being? Not drug addiction or crime or anything like that, but mind artistry. (*Hang on, that's drug addiction AND crime!*)

I'm not going to explain the concept to you, as my endless attempts at explanation on Myspace have always ended in frustration and despair. Too long, too convoluted, and ultimately too obscure. It relates to something I want to do in music, by harnessing the movements of mental dexterity to enhance the relationship between artist and audience. It's basically intelligence as an instrument, in a nutshell. But unfortunately most artists view the "between artist and audience" thing as a threat, along the lines of "no-one shall come between an artist and their audience". And they think that it's fucked in the head, which to be honest it probably is. So now I've removed all reference to it from my Myspace profile, apart from a few token keywords in the General section.

I've officially "given up" twice...first when I hit 30 last year, and secondly when I got ill again recently. But still I do it, and still I go back to it. Every single fucking time. Why? Because I believe in it, that's why. I believe I have something here that has the power to communicate over vast distances (ie, between the different facets of a fragmented mind), and that has the power to make a profound difference to wasted and disenfranchised lives. The evangelical language worries me, but that's not going to stop me from believing. And when I believe in it, I feel powerful and strong, and in possession of the capacity to cause change. If I was a woman it would make me feel like an all-conquering Amazonian warrior. And that's gotta be a good thing, right?

Not if you're mental it isn't. If you're mental, the thing that you believe in is wrong. Without question. Even if it's right, it's still wrong. It's wrong because the mind of a mentally ill person does not quite tally with reality, and hence the belief or belief system is off-target. It might not miss by much, but it misses and there endeth. It automatically becomes a delusion, even if it has possible implications and applications that go beyond delusion. It's something that we mentals could never quite get our heads around when we were younger and first referred to specialists. But by the age of 30, the reality should be all too obvious. And if it isn't, well that merely confirms the fact that you're mental.

Yet still I go back to it. Still I believe that there's an artist or musician out there who my mind techniques may be of some use to, and who can see as I can see a way in which it could catapult them onto a higher level creatively. But I'm waiting on a miracle, and even the evangelist in me is prepared to accept that miracles don't happen. But I cannot even begin to tell you how frustrating it is to see something so powerful and precious reduced to the level of mindless self-indulgence; a mere tonic to get me through another mindless and pointless day.

Taking The Medicine

Ok so they started me on Diazepam. I've taken Diazepam before so I knew what to expect, but I don't intend to stay on it for long. Diazepam used to make me horny so I was secretly quite looking forward to taking it, but this time it just made me sleepy and I suspect that will continue to be the case. I'm already taking sedatives to sleep and they seem to do the job, so there's no need to start on one more. The real reason I'm taking Diazepam is because I'm having terrible trouble with claustrophobia. My mind is jumping around all over the place, desperately seeking a resting state that counts as an escape. And judging from the effects the diazepam has had so far, it probably won't help me out with that. So good old willpower it is then.

I need to resolve it soon, because it's leaving me too scared to get on the bus. It's nothing about the bus itself that's scary (I've been in bus crashes and suffered no adverse effects). No, it's the fact that once those doors shut, you no longer have an escape. It affects me the most in traffic jams, because you're constantly stuck behind cars or lights, and the next bus stop now is no nearer than it was when the doors were first shut. And when the bus is crammed full of people and screaming babies it's an absolute nightmare. But it's a nightmare I was always able to deal with, until recently. Only recently have I started to abort mission and get off the bus before my stop. Or, as was the case yesterday, get on and then get straight back off again! Something happened recently that wasn't so bad in itself, but it brought the phobia back with a vengeance. I thought I'd beaten it but clearly I haven't, and I'm clearly no nearer to resolving it now than I ever was.

Someone asked me yesterday whether it would really be so bad if I went crazy on the bus. Well, yes it would. This is my local bus, mostly used by women, children and the elderly. Their menfolk would soon find out who I was, as my unfortunate shock of ginger hair makes me more recognisable than I would like to be. I would be warned in no uncertain terms to leave the area or face a beating, or maybe get the beating first and then be told to leave. This is a tough working-class area, and tolerance of outsiders is low. And as I made clear in an earlier post, leaving isn't as easy as I would like to believe it is.

Sometimes I wonder whether all this is nature's (and gravity's) way of punishing me for not being "grounded" enough, and for daring to let my imagination take flight. And it seems that for now I am quite literally "grounded", in the sense that I can no longer take a form of transport that requires my feet to leave the earth. But the trouble is that whenever I bear all this in mind, it seems to affect me worse than ever. Of course I should just forget about it all and relax; but when you suspect that your resting state might be causing the problem, that's not exactly an incentive to relax. And when you're jumping around between different states of mind hoping that one of them will stick, you do grow quite weary of endlessly trying to relax. I'm sick of trying to change myself, and I'm sick of trying to escape myself.

So pills it is. For now.

Abandoning The Beast

I've decided, I'm going to leave. I'm going to move out of the "sick house" I've lived in for the past 5 years, and back out into the real world. I'm not exactly ready, but I'll just plain have to be. Of course the issues I always had will always be there, and I'm no more well equipped to live amongst "normal people" now than I ever was. But I need the shock to the system, and I need to convince myself that I can still keep polite company before the nerves destroy me completely. That and the fact that the birdbrain next door to me is becoming something less than human. He shouts day and night in his sargeant-major voice (he's ex-army), and recently he's started banging with tools (he's building a model railway). Somebody get the man a Jane.

Thing is, there are many obstacles preventing someone like me from getting a "normal" home. Here in the UK private landlords are very reluctant to take tenants who are living off of state benefits, as beurocracy ensures that it takes months for them to get paid, by which time the tenant may well have absconded. And living in cheap shared housing with middle-class graduates isn't really an option, as these people have living standards that I will never be able to live up to. It's kinda hard to justify to an aspiring young professional that you've spent the last 5 years out of circulation, dealing with mental illness. Young professionals can't get their heads around something like that, and nor would I expect them to. And young professionals have a habit of drawing up mental dividing lines between professionals and non-professionals. Mentally ill people are service users; young professionals are service providers. And never the twain shall live under the same roof.

So the more I think about it, the more I realise as much as I ever did that my options are severely restricted. Maybe you think that I'm thinking about it too much, and you're wondering what the worst is that could happen. Well I'll tell you. The worst that could happen is that I move somewhere new without realising what the standards and expectations are. Then it hits me, and I freak out. This scares the tenants, and the landlord throws me out. And if I end up on the streets, it is no exaggeration to say that it will be the death of me. THAT's the worst that can happen. And bearing that in mind, that is probably why I have remained in an unhealthy environment for as long as I have. When I arrived here, I was 5 days away from living on the streets, and I will never forget that. Because when you're living with mental illness, stability and security is a very precious thing.

So while all this tempers the initial enthusiasm about moving, it does inform it somewhat. Much as I would like to believe that I can live under the same roof as healthy productive members of my own generation, the reality is that I can't. So what are my options? Well one-person flats I suppose, but at least I'm now in a position to know what environment would work for me, and make me feel secure and stable. Because I really must abandon the beast next door before he depends on me completely. You are the company you keep, as the happy healthy young professionals would have it. And if I'm living with Tarzan then perhaps I'm becoming less civilised by the day.

Part of me is thinking sod it: take a leap into the unknown and deal with the consequences. Good idea?

Banging The Drum

Now anyone who has read my profile will have noticed my other blog La Potentialista, in which I was to expand on my theories of potential, and of the harnessing of "potentialistics" as an alternative application to productivity (for those who struggle with productivity, due to disability or trauma or something like that). Now I believe in my ideas and in my abilty to communicate them; but regrettably I have had to delete this blog as it was tormenting me too much. The tone of the blog was very self-help and inspirational, which is all well and good providing you can blind yourself to the truth. And there's the rub: I can't blind myself to the truth, because to do so would be to wallow in ignorance and to expect others to follow my example. I believe in my ideas, but not to the point of evangelism. It just got to the stage where I was checking myself after every sentence, so reluctantly I had to let it go.

Now if only I could let the ideas go...

Hoisting The Flag

Jeez, I'm red-flagging myself all over the place tonight. You know what I mean...every action brings a counter-action, every argument a counter-argument. Trying to justify my perspective on all sorts of things, but that nagging doubting voice is still there. And I'm relenting and listening to it, which I'm not sure is a good thing or not. At least I'm receptive, but in my endeavors to become more receptive I'm becoming more defeatist. And I don't like defeat. Losing I can live with, but not defeat. That would be fatal, and fatal isn't good.

Righting The Wrong

One of the more unfortunate consequences of any "borderline" disorder is that it leaves you grasping at straws when it comes to doing the right thing. Your head just isn't in the same place for long enough to develop a sense of righteousness or consistency.

I am blogging for money elsewhere on the net, but don't worry I'm not making any! The truth is that I'm not very good, and so I won't be posting any links here. The reason I'm not very good is quite simple: blogging for money is about doing the right thing, and by that I mean doing the smart thing. Not the clever thing, but the smart thing. And the smart thing means doing it just like everybody else. It's about using all the right keywords in all the right places, and basically copying what works for everyone else. It's all very alpha, and not very border. I can't even copy correctly, for fuck's sake! Give me a piece of tracing paper and I'll give you a work of art! But give me a canvas and I'll give you a work of shit. It's the appropriateness thing that I can never quite get my head around.

And what frustrates me so much is that my friend who got me into this knows exactly how to do it right. It's not any special gift that he possesses, just common sense backed up by knowledge. It's not like he's trying any harder than I am, although he is doubtless more effective and productive. It's simply the case that he knows what works, as do most people within the business, and I don't because I have a disorder that undermines my capacity to make the right choice and do the right thing. The same information and resources are available to me, but I'm just not able to make the most of them. (And in case you think I'm in the wrong job, you should see me when I try to do a real job!). And what scares me is that there are people out there who are truly despised for this trait, much as there are people out there who despise it. They see it as laziness or lack of application, and it isn't. It's just a chronic inability to capitalise. And it's harder when you're working with other people, because you're part of a chain and you're letting the side down.

So what's to be done? Any decision I make will be the wrong one, so help me out here! How do you suddenly start making the right decisions, when the essence of who you are makes you make the wrong ones? How do you reproduce something that works time and again, when your instinct is always to be original and create your own space? And most of all, how do you protect yourself from the slow erosion of the soul that comes from being 100% wrong, 100% of the time? (As I write this now, I'm thinking "maybe they'll forgive me if I question myself enough". But they won't, will they?)

Apologies if this post tailed off a bit at the end. It's been that sort of night.

Facing The Fascista

I need to work on my karma. Which probably isn't a very good admission for a second blog post, but it's true. I have bad karma and it's costing me a life.

Thing is, I've gone round and round in circles trying to improve my karma in the past, and nothing seems to stick. Any "practical" remedy such as yoga I have always had difficulty with, and not just in the sense that it is difficult. My disorder affects my dexterity and co-ordination, and so anything that requires mind-body synchronicity just leaves me at a loss. So I've always tried to improve the mind in ways that bypass the body, but of course that leaves me open to accusations from the body fascista, for whom "mind AND body"= good, and "mind OR body"= axis of evil. (Fascista was a typo but it stays)

So what do I do? I can't win and I know it.

Why is good karma so important? Because nothing good has happened to me in years, that's why. I'm serious: NOTHING! Surely the law of averages / probabilities /sods /Murphy / whatever would dictate that these things even themselves out over time, but no! Nothing good ever happens! So it stands to reason that either I'm putting myself at a disadvantage, or there is something about me that puts me at a disadvantage. Yes I have a disorder, but everybody has a cross to bear and a cliche to back it up. And as I sweat on an email that I know will never come, I sweat even more on the reasons why it won't come. Because good things would happen if it did.

So I'm back to my original question: what can be done to improve my karma? The obvious answer, off the top of my head, is "get a lover", but that isn't really an option. Get a life? I'm trying to, I really am. But it's a bit difficult when you suspect that the rest of the world views you as some sort of cursed seventhborn...

And one final question regarding the body fascista. Is a compromised mind-body relationship really the heinous crime they make it out to be?

Murder? Now that's a crime. Rape? Definitely. Genocide? Of course. But a compromised mind-body relationship, due to forces beyond your control? C'mon guys, gimme a break. If I were physically disabled I wouldn't even need to say this. Some patronising cunt would say it for me anyway.

Avoiding The Intro

I hate intros, don't you?

I've started so many blogs with the best of intentions, only to see the enthusiasm frittered away on a lousy intro. And I hate small talk and initiation, neither of which bodes well for writing a quality intro. So maybe I should just kick into gear straight away, and carry the momentum forward.

I really shouldn't have to explain what Working The Borderline is all about. Those who know just know, and those who don't know are probably better off for not knowing. (And probably aren't reading, so let's not waste our breath on them). I am not a border patrol cop or anything like that, although I have to confess it feels like that sometimes. No, the "borderline" in question is whatever borderline disorder it is that I have. Some have diagnosed it as an autistic disorder, others a schizoid disorder, others a neurological disorder, and so on ad nausea. Personally I couldn't give a toss. I used to give a toss, and that's why I don't anymore. It takes its toll, y'know? A bit like a border patrol cop...

Along the way I also hope to introduce you to one or two of my redeeming features. Admittedly I haven't figured out what they are yet, but I'll let you know when I do!

Anyway, the intention with this is simply to write in the moment about how I'm feeling, as I'm feeling it. Because I suspect it's the lack of addressing my feelings that creates so much fear. I feel ok now, but I'm drinking to quell my nerves, which isn't good and I know it. But if I wasn't drinking to quell my nerves, I wouldn't be writing this because I would be shit scared and channeling all my efforts into fending off the fear. So you tell me...is a vice acceptable for the sake of getting the message out there? Or will a vice always hold a vice-like grip?

See, I told you I was the master of shit intros! But now that the intro's over and done with, it's downhill all the way! Woohoo!