Weekly book status: Wow!

Want to know a secret?  I haven't showered in thirteen days!  I've been that determined to work on this project.  If I haven't been sleeping or job or eating or taking care of and playing with Tammy, I've been writing.

I look terrible.  I've dry-shaved every few days.  That and brushing my teeth have for the most part been my only hygiene.

But what has come out of that has been amazing.

Twelve chapters written this past week!  But it must be emphasized that these were smaller chapters than most of what have been composed so far.  Still, I'm very happy with the progress made.

I'm still writing this book out of sequence.  But as of yesterday my life from birth up to winter of 2002 has been chronicled as thoroughly as is feasible for a project like this.  And I've also got 2016 on through the present day written about.

Also, the book is split into eight parts.  Other than a few chapters still needed for the one about my college years, and the very last chapters, there's only one part left to be written.  All the others are complete.

I'm striving to keep the manuscript within 150,000 words.  As of last night it's at 90,000 written.  Sixty thousand remaining to use on one part sounds like a lot, but this part, titled "Years of Heaven, Years of Hell" is absolutely the biggest of them.  Sooooo much happened in this period.  It's going to be tough to pack it all in.  I think the episode involving the newspaper may be two chapters.

I'm not making myself out to be a saint in writing this.  I'm already coming across as a very horrible person.  But that's just the truth of it all.  I'm only writing about what happened, and trying to be as honest and forthcoming as I can be.

No writing today.  I'm taking a break.  And there is my "real life job" that must be tended to also.  But I think I've earned a day's rest, after writing most during most of my free time for the past two weeks.

Okay, me go shower now.  And play with the dog.  She's earned a new toy for putting up with me as she has.

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My thoughts a week and a half before the election

 

I'm beginning to believe that the presidential election is going to go to Donald Trump.  After stating for several months that I believe Harris will be the one who gets sworn in come January.

Harris right now is doing her damndest to appeal to the hard left.  That's ALL she really has that she's been consistently running on.  Especially about the abortion issue.  One would easily believe that abortion is her biggest concern.  But those voters were already a lock for her anyway.

Trump meanwhile is doing a very good job getting his message out to the unaffiliated and undecided voters.  The ones who have long been neglected too much by both the Democratic and Republican parties.  They also tend to be the ones in the middle class who have been worst affected by the Biden and Harris administration.

 

The number of American voters disaffected by either major party is a considerable one.  Trump has a lot of allure for them and after more than three years of disastrous leftist policies they are screaming for relief from that.

 

I am now prepared to say that the chances of Trump winning a week and a half from now are pretty substantial.

 Perhaps if Harris campaigns more on issues of relevance to most Americans, she would begin to pick up wider support.  This is not happening.

 

What does concern me however is election rigging.  It happened in 2020 and we all know it even if we won't admit to it.  What happened in the wee hours of the morning in Wisconsin proved that there was pro-Biden chicanery afoot.  The fix was in four years ago.  The "deep state" of the bureaucrats and the lifetime politicians have even more reason to tip the scales toward the Democrats than they had then.  So I'm expecting cheating that may dwarf what happened in 2020.

If so and "they" get away with it again, we will be saddled with Kamala Harris: the worst presidential candidate in American history.

 

That being said, right now things look very good for Donald Trump.

I really hope and pray that the legitimate voting will be in such enormous volume that election rigging will be rendered inconsequential.

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Fortieth anniversary of The Terminator

It was forty years ago today, October 26th 1984, that James Cameron's science-fiction thriller (I'd also consider it horror) The Terminator was released.

Cameron was sick with food poisoning in Rome.  While convulsing in agony he had a fevered dream of a robot assassin with glowing red eyes hunting him down.  And that was the genesis of the Terminator.

This is a movie that has aged very well.  Including the design of the Terminator and the then-relatively distant future of the SkyNet-dominated 2029.  Ask a conceptual artist on a modern film to create an endoskeleton for a cyborg killing machine and it would be difficult not to envision something along the lines of the Cyberdyne Systems Model 101 Hunter-Killer.

I first saw The Terminator in 1986.  My best friend Chad had seen it on cable TV and was really raving about how good it was.  So I was able to rent it not long after.  I thought it was amazing.  It was definitely nightmare fuel for a twelve-year-old.  Especially that shot of the metal skeleton rising out of the wreckage to continue chasing down Sarah Connor.  I was like "Can't ANYTHING stop this guy?!?"

I've got this movie on DVD.  It's been awhile since I've seen it though.  Think I'll pop it in tonight.

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Book Progress Report: Five new chapters and a home for the very first

A little over two years ago I wrote the first chapter of what was going to be the book I had always intended to write.  It's not one that the reader is supposed to find early on in the tome.  It's actually a chapter that comes in quite late into the book.

For various reasons I needed to write that one first.  It more or less establishes the tone of the work still to come.

As of a few days ago that first chapter written now has its place in the manuscript as a whole.  I didn't have to change a thing to it.  It just slid right into place without any mess at all.

It joins five chapters that I've been able to finish the first drafts of since a week ago today.

So far, it's gone well. I've consistently been composing chapters, around five a week. There have been three significant events in my life that I've been able to reach down deep and write about. I dare not say I'm feeling proud of myself but there is a sense of some accomplishment.

But this, all of this, is still just tip-toeing across the minefield.

 

There is something massive that I haven't come close to beginning to address, in this book. It's about the very worst place that I found myself in because of manic depression. All the grief and pain and worst, that *I* was causing even more horrible things to the people I cared most about.

 

I feel like a coward. How I've been able to work on a little of everything else so far. Except for that.

 

For the past few months I've been doing the best work on this project that I've been able to have since Dad first told me he wanted me to write a book. I'm grateful to have found myself in such a groove. After a very long period of being stuck, there has been a LOT of movement forward.

 

But really, so far I've been doing nothing but pulling rabbits out of my hat.

 

Now it's well past time that I be able to pull out an alligator.

 

 

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A very good week for the book project!

Five chapters written in the past seven days.  And a strong start of another that I was able to compose on Saturday afternoon, the day before yesterday.

It can be noted that one of the chapters was written start to finish while I was suffering from conjunctivitis (also known as pink eye).

The drafts of the first five chapters I wrote are from the start of part three, which covers the years I spent studying at Elon.  A lot happened in that time and to be honest I hadn't been exactly sure what tact to bring to bear upon it goes.

But so far it's almost wound up writing itself.  I'm just pouring my memory out upon the page (or the keyboards at either my desk or my iPad Pro).  Those are five chapters that build up to something and when it finally came to that... well.  I needed to step away from writing for awhile.  It took a lot out of me.  I haven't gone back to finishing that part of the tale but I did move forward to another section of the book and began writing that.

(Lots of authors do this with their own books. Tolkien wrote parts of The Lord of the Rings at various times in the period before, during and following World War II.  You write what comes to you, whatever interests you most right then.  And then you piece it all together.  I figure that I'm in good company :-)

So much has been done yet a lot of work still remains.  But I'm feeling really confident about this.  I've shared a few of the drafts with a select number of trusted friends.  I insisted that I need their most brutally honest thoughts.  All of them have come back with nothing but good about what they've read.  I'm taking that as a good sign.  If I can keep that kind of vibe going, I'll be quite pleased and thankful.

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First Helene, now Milton

Got lots of friends in the path of this monster.  On either side of the Florida peninsula.

I'm praying that this might yet sputter out before it makes landfall.  Hurricanes have been known to be crazy like that.  Not often, but it does happen.

Please y'all, be safe.

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One new chapter this past week, and a medical emergency

I am both proud of myself and a little let down.  I only wrote one new chapter for my book this past week.  

Maybe I should forgive myself?

For my own account of things, my life is still being impacted by Hurricane Helene, an hour or so south of the true devastation.  A few days ago on Friday I saw my psychiatrist and got refill prescriptions for my medication.  I assumed the scripts were sent over to the pharmacy as usual.  When I went to pick up the refills early that evening however, the pharmacy was closed and there was a note on the door saying that their Internet was down and they couldn't fill prescriptions at all.  I had gotten an automated text from the pharmacy several days earlier, saying the hurricane had knocked out their computers.  I just assumed they would have been back in business already.

That was a wrong assumption on my part.

There was one med in particular that I was all out of.  I was counting on getting the refill.  And I needed that med.

It might have been a long shot but I drove to the emergency room of the nearby hospital and explained my situation to them.  It was a very good idea, because a little less than an hour later they gave me an Rx for a "bridge" of the med I needed to get me through the next week.  A quick visit to the CVS practically next door to the hospital later and I had my medication.

That emergency averted, I went home and plopped down and tried to write something, anything.  Before I knew it I was working on a new chapter.  It's the final one of part two, which covers a nine-years span of my life.  I completed it last night.  And there are going to be some edits and revisions but the basic endoskeleton is in place at least.  I'm happy with it.

I'm going to try to write some more today, before my week begins in earnest and the opportunity to write before Saturday becomes diminished.  I'm supplementing my typical work with a part-time job, it lets me engage with more personal projects on weeknights and long weekends.  Maybe I'll get to knock something else out before returning to that job tomorrow.

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Helene: After the storm

The past few days will go down in history.  The comparison I keep hearing is that "this is our Katrina" and that's not inaccurate at all.

If God saw fit to humble us, He certainly did with Hurricane Helene.

As I write this it's almost 7:30 pm EST on October 1st, 2024.  I was away from the house for much of the day so I don't know when exactly the juice came back on but when I returned an hour ago the power was restored.  It had been out since a little before 8 on Friday morning, four and a half days ago.  So that's about a hundred hours that we were without electricity.

I drove around the area on Friday night.   Didn't get too far.  There were big trees fallen all over the place, across the roadways.  I've never seen so many power lines down.

I had to conserve battery power on the various devices, like my phone and iPad.  Yesterday morning I ventured out and got to the library in downtown Spartanburg, found a spot on the floor next to a wall outlet and recharged the phone.  I've been limiting its use, employing it only when absolutely necessary.  Because there was no telling when power would come back to our homes.

My dog and I are in upstate South Carolina.  And it could have been much worse.

Asheville, North Carolina is a little less than an hour to our north.  As of this evening I-40 going east out of the city is open but nothing else.  The town is pretty much unreachable except by helicopter (Asheville Regional Airport is starting to get supply flights coming in but that's a bit far from the city limits).  At last count more than 60 people are dead from the storm in Buncombe County.

Half an hour to our west, we have friends in Greenville.  They have been without power since Friday.

The town of Chimney Rock has been wiped off the map.

Sections of highways in the western part of North Carolina have been destroyed.

Local schools are out until Monday next week.  Remote learning via Internet is also out.

The power crews are working around the clock to restore electricity.  They have come in from all up and down the country and some have arrived from Canada.  They can't possibly be appreciated enough.

As for my own account...

Restricting the use of devices meant that it would be unwise to write, no matter how creative I was feeling.  And the only flashlight I have is on my iPhone.  So  I spent the daylight hours doing lots of reading.  I try to read George Orwell's 1984 every few years and I was behind on that so Sunday afternoon I was engorged in that novel.  And yesterday, for whatever reason, I started re-reading Helter Skelter.  I did write a bit for my book, the old-fashioned way: with a pen and notebook.  So I guess it can be said that my attempt to contribute to the world's literature is sort of a multimedia effort.

It's been a wild past few days.  And I was expecting the power to be restored sometime late Friday.  So I'm very thankful that it's back.

I've been through hurricanes a number of times in my life.  Helene topped them all.  For it to come this far inland and still packing a punch is almost a freak occurrence.  It's being called a one-in-a-thousand-year catastrophe.

And that's pretty much my report.  Going to spend the rest of the evening getting my bearings back, take a LONG hot shower, give my dog Tammy some love and treats, maybe watch a movie.

Helene has certainly made me thankful for things that we too often take for granted.  And like I said, it could have been worse here.

Thoughts and prayers going up and out for everyone who's been affected by this storm.

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Weekly book report for September 30th 2024

 Well, this turned into something interesting.  My home is in the upstate of South Carolina.  Three days ago the entire western Carolinas region got slammed hard by Hurricane Helene.  I lost power on Friday morning about 7:30 and 77 hours later it still hasn't been restored.  Based on what I saw on the way to the library in downtown Spartanburg this morning, it may be days if not weeks before power is turned back on 100%.

This was a catastrophe on the same level as Hurricane Katrina.  Our kids will be telling their grandchildren about this one.

So I wasn't able to work most of the weekend, because power is out.  Until yesterday when I started writing in a notebook with a pen, jotting some thoughts down that will go into further chapters.  It will honestly be able to be said that I worked on this book through a hurricane.

Anyhoo, since last week I have been able to fully write one chapter, along with editing the previous one and the aforementioned bits and pieces that have been jotted down.

And that's pretty much it, for now.

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First weekly book update

Almost a month ago I posted about the status of my book, something that had been on the back burner of my life for ten years now.  Work on it has taken various forms, there had been progress made only for that to be tossed aside... well, it's been a mess, not to put TOO fine a point on it.

Things are very, very different now and have been for much of this past year.  A few months ago I had a breakthrough moment and was able to crank out the first few chapters of the story of my life.  That has led to more, and more.

Maybe it will help to keep me on track to post a status of this memoir's progress, say each week on Sunday.  Perhaps that will encourage me to stay committed.

Here it is as of September 22nd, 22024: so far, not counting the preface, there are fifteen chapters that have been written.  I spent most of this past week working on one, that had really been making me struggle.  It's still considered a VERY rough draft but early word that a dear friend I shared it with is that it's good.

There are going to be at least six parts.  Part one is complete.  There are five chapters done so far for part five, which is currently titled "Three Months and Three Ladies".  I'm not writing this book in sequential order.  Just working on it as the Muse leads me.

There is still a lot of work to be done.  Ideally I would be producing two to three chapters a week, but I'll be happy if it's even just one.  This book is finally getting the attention I needed to lavish upon it.  It's not going to be rushed.  But when it's finished, I will have written my life story, as well as such things are possible.

And that's how things stand now.

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Lost turns twenty

4 8 15 16 23 42

 

It was twenty years ago tonight - September 22, 2004 - that arguably the greatest television series of the new millennium premiered.

Lost was an instant sensation and for six seasons its tale of the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815 gripped the world's consciousness.  ABC's hit broke all the rules, subverted expectations, and cooked long-held tropes like so many White Castle hamburgers.  Lost was television of the highest order of storytelling.  Yes, its story ended without every mystery getting a solid answer... and many maddeningly unresolved.  But some things should be left to the imagination and Lost certainly provided viewers with fresh new enigmas seemingly every week to ruminate upon.

I think that Lost wasn't so much about the riddles as it was about the characters.  That was the greatest ensemble cast assembled in the modern history of the medium and they brought to life some incredibly deep and multi-layered personas.  My most favorite character was John Locke: the crippled "man of faith" who inexplicably regained the ability to walk after Oceanic 815 crashed on the island.  There was so much about him that resonated with me.  And I also came to have some sympathy for Benjamin Linus, perhaps the most flawed of the show's characters.  I like to think that Ben found redemption in the end, and truly repented of his ways.  It was as good an end to his arc as there could probably be had.

I'm not going to post about Lost without mentioning my personal favorite theory, something that I've never seen anyone else posit.  I think that David, Jack's son from the flash-sideways world, was the child who came about when Jack and Kate made love before taking off on the Ajira flight.  Eloise had told the people who came to the Lamp Post that they had to recreate as closely as possible the conditions of the original flight. What she told Kate was that she had to conceive a child so that Kate could be a proxy for Claire, who had been pregnant on the Oceanic 815 flight.  Well, David had to come from somewhere.  And he even looks like he could be a child of Kate and Jack, too.  He was very well cast.

I also think that the Man in Black wasn't Jacob's brother at all.  As evidenced by the hieroglypics that Ben found, the Smoke Monster had existed on the island long before Jacob's mother came.  The Monster simply assumed the appearance of Jacob's brother.  Jacob found his brother's body, it hadn't been transformed at all.  Again, just a theory.

Well, I could go on.  This show left us with so much that we're still discussing and debating fourteen years after its final episode.  That says something about any series's timeless quality.  And I doubt that in another twenty years we'll be too exhausted to still be talking about it.

So, let's raise our glasses of Dharma Initiative cola and toast Lost on its twentieth anniversary!  Just as amazing today as it was in 2004.

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Rest in peace James Earl Jones

 

I got to meet him, briefly, in 2003.  Amazing man, with an intellect as formidable as his voice if not more so.

Ninety-three is a good run.  And he definitely made his mark.

Who else could make saying the alphabet so dramatic?

Godspeed Mr. Jones.  Thank you for sharing your gifts with us for so long.

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Yes, I'm still writing a book...

More than a decade ago Dad persuaded me that my life story would make for something that many people would probably enjoy reading.  I started writing that in 2014.  And then a lot of things happened.  Dad's passing.  The year spent journeying across America.  Four years as a mental health professional.  Those things and more atop the wackiness that life had already sent barreling my way since I was a cub.  And let's not forget manic depression and all that led to!

Well, here's a bit of an update on that.  Following a few fits with a fresh start on writing, during these past several months I have made significant progress on my memoir.  I had been stuck at one point since mid-March however.  And then a few days ago I finally cracked it and was able to knock two chapters out of the ballpark in less than 24 hours.  Right now I am working on a new chapter, which is set-up for something of a "triptych" in the tale.

The first six consecutive chapters are done.  Several other chapters of varying sizes, to be spread around the book, have also been written.

If someone were to ask for a rough estimate on the size this is going to be, I would guess that right now it's going to be a little longer than J.D. Vance's Hillbilly Elegy, which is 272 pages in hardcover.  Actually, that's not a bad book for comparison, for a few reasons.

I'm discovering that it's not just writing my life story out as a straightforward narrative.  I am having to examine and consider things - and people - that are coming into a whole new light.  The process of writing this is changing me, and I believe for the better.  A few days ago I wrote about the little Amish girl who I met when I was ten years old.  And that made me realize for the first time what an impact that had on my life (forty years later and I still think of her).

There is a title and has been for a year or so now.  It took awhile to find one but I really love it.  Only five other people know it and they're all sworn to secrecy.  But every person I've told it to has responded with the same question: "What does THAT mean?"  Hopefully they and many others will delight to find out.

So, there is the status on that particular project.  It's found its groove again and the past several days have been a rollickin' wild ride across the life of young Robert Christopher Knight.  This next part is going to be a hard one to tackle though.  A lot of tragedy in a very short period of time.  Maybe if this book gets published it will help make some things right that happened long ago.

And maybe enough people will be able to not only understand me, but be able to forgive me.

Edit: 09/08/2024 6:10 PM EST: I have been able to knock out three chapters within the past 48 hours.  Including the one that illuminates the reader about the meaning of the book's title. That was tough to write but also a lot of fun.

This really is coming together.  It might even be finished by Christmas, but that's not a goal per se.  Just a possibility.

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"Make Mine Freedom" from 1948: Don't drink the Ism!

So help me, I'm going to show this cartoon from almost eighty years ago until I'm blue in the face, if that's what it takes to stop people from drinking Ism!

It was in 2009 when I first came across "Make Mine Freedom", a 1948 educational film produced by Harding College.  I was immediately struck by how prophetic this animated short was.  How it warned against the dangers of socialism.  "Ism" is a blight that corrupts and destroys everything that it touches.

Not for the first time, not for the last, there are people in this country trying to sell "Ism" to us.  But it is a bitter elixir that will do naught but poison us and rob us and our children of precious liberty.

America is not perfect.  It never has been.  It never will be.  We have made mistakes along the way, just as any other nation has.  But we as a people have done pretty good in owning up to that.  America does NOT need MORE government "fixing things" that we can do on our own.  In America there is equality of opportunity.  There is no guarantee of equality of outcome though, however.  But that is what today's supporters of "Ism" are trying to sell us, and all it results in is that much less freedom and prosperity.

Here is "Make Mine Freedom".  Remember: Don't drink the Ism!

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BEING BIPOLAR, Part Twelve: Report on Mixed Episode

Being Bipolar is a series that began nearly fourteen years ago in the winter of 2011.  It is an occasional look at what it is like to live with bipolar disorder, or manic depression as many still call it.  This blogger posts a new article whenever he feels the time is ideal to write about an aspect of bipolar disorder, so that others might have deeper understanding of this disease and appreciate what it is to have to exist with it on a routine basis.  In doing this I do my best to be as honest and forthcoming as is possible.  I am not a medical professional.  However I spent several years as a peer support specialist - a person with mental illness who undergoes extensive training so as to help others with like and similar conditions - for a major state department of mental health.  I believe that this may put me in a unique position to examine bipolar disorder.  Perhaps writing this series will be in some way how I get to make up for many of the things that I have done while in a depressed state or exceedingly manic (ESPECIALLY manic).  If you are experiencing a mental health crisis, please consider calling 911 or if you are able to then visit your nearest hospital emergency room.  You may also find help and encouragement from a support group, such as those sponsored by mental health advocacy organizations like the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI.org).

 

Hey hey!  Once again it has been quite awhile since I have posted anything under the Being Bipolar brand.  That last one came almost two years ago.  And a lot has changed since then...

When last you read this space, I was still working at the South Carolina Department of Mental Health (the very first mental health department among any of the fifty states, and they're dang proud of it!).  And I would still be there too, had the economy not turned so rotten.  That compelled me to seek out employment that paid better.  I spent two weeks at the car manufacturer near here...

...And then had to leave voluntarily.  The meds I take to manage manic depression made it impossible to have the fine precision finger mobility and speed to keep up.  I quickly realized that when it came to critical car components my presence was more a liability than a benefit.

After that I was at another manufacturer.  I was doing really good too!  And then two months into that job I was dismissed.  Because they discovered that I was taking medication to manage bipolar disorder.

Well, I can't really talk about that much.  There were legal proceedings and an out-of-court settlement.  It ended as best as it probably could have.  But that still left me unemployed.

Several months of work drought followed after that.  And then I was able to sign on as a substitute teacher for a local school system.  But as was reported almost a year ago that didn't last long (because ahem... I was accused of teaching high school juniors how to make high explosives).

THAT led to a job that nearly killed me.  The less said about that one, the better.  It was destroying me mentally, physically, but also spiritually.  I was never able to attend a place of worship with others on weekends, or during the week either for that matter.  My relationship with God is something that has always been precious to me, even during my worst of moments with manic depression.  For those reasons and more I left the job just before my birthday this past March.

What happened after that was practically a God-send.  A friend got me involved in training artificial intelligence systems.  We're talking real cutting-edge stuff here.  I've been able to see the AI industry from a vantage point that few get to witness.  I'm now beholding all that goes into making AI work.  Its good points as well as things that I don't believe computers will ever be able to surmount (I very strongly doubt that AI will come close to approximating real human thought, and that's a great comfort).  I consider AI training to be my true career now, and it's solid work that employs much of my educational background and experiences.

Unfortunately there are times when there is a lull between projects.  And it is during those times that I need supplementary employment.

Which brings me to where I am today.  I've been able to be a part of the establishing of the first branch in this state of a respected company that is experiencing nationwide growth.  I've been with the company for almost two months now and have really come to enjoy the community and camaraderie among the staff.  That's all that I can probably say at the moment however.  For reasons which are pretty easy to figure out.

So now we come to August 13, 2024.

I've written about having a depressive episode before, and the previous installment of Being Bipolar dealt with experiencing a manic episode.  Well, since last night I have been having a mixed episode: an entirely different beast altogether.  So I'm going to do my best to describe what this is like.

This morning I had to call in sick.  I was nowhere in any condition to handle the tasks I regularly engage in.  I probably was not even fit to drive the relatively short distance to the location.  Not when I was unstoppably blinking back-and-forth between extraordinary mania and then curling up in a ball on the sofa.

This has been a day of extremes, to be mild about it.

It started yesterday evening.  I felt it coming.  And prayed that it would pass over.  Maybe God let it be not as severe as it could have been.  As severe as it was fifteen or so years ago, when I lacked the proper medication and the counseling and the tools to deal with an episode.  Back when I had to be rocked here and fro by manic depression.  The time in my life when I caused so much damage and destruction to relationships that I cherished so deeply with those who I loved.  But that's digressing, sort of.

I sensed this coming.  And braced for the storm.  It could have been worse.  But it was harsh enough.  By 8 a.m. this morning my thoughts were racing furiously.  At 9 the swings toward the opposite direction began.

It's funny.  A little after 9 there was a brief respite.  And I found myself inspired to post the following on Facebook:

Dear God, thank You for giving me this morning. May I have a great day today. Let others see not myself but You within me, that they might be drawn to You and You alone.

 

I was hoping that the day would turn out well, in spite of how it was progressing.  And maybe I was trying to bargain with God: that I would surrender to Him and that in return He would make my day a blessed one after all.

It was not to be.

Ten o'clock.  The mania had been roaring for some time.  About this time I plummeted back into depression.  It was what ever since the symptoms first began nearly a quarter century ago I have called "the Dark Fountain".  Winston Churchill called depression his "Black Dog" that hounded his steps wherever he went.  Mine is the Dark Fountain.  When it erupts it sends dark viscous fluid seething across my neurobiology, and it takes a supreme effort to fight against those black waters or else drown in them.  And it has come close to drowning me completely at times... make of that what one will.

Today around noon I could almost hear the Dark Fountain bursting forth.  Could almost feel the waters creeping throughout my brain.  And then it stopped for a little while.  Enough to post on Facebook that I needed prayer, from whoever might be reading my words.

 

Several people responded, and I am very thankful that they did.  I believe in prayer, now more than ever.  Prayer is nothing more or less than talking with God in a personal way.  He hears our prayers.  He may not answer them as we would like for Him to... and trust me, I have prayed to Him many times over the past two and a half decades to relieve me of my own "thorn in the flesh" (as Paul described his own ailment).  He hasn't done that.  I doubt He ever will do that.  Not on this side of the veil, anyway.

 

Maybe God needs me to have a mental illness.  It's a way of keeping me humble, of having to rely upon Him, and to rely upon the prayers of others.  It would be a pretty sad and miserable world if we didn't lift each other up, somehow or another.  But again, I digress...

 

One o'clock.  Two.  Three.  I was SERIOUSLY fluctuating.  It was almost making me physically sick.  I've been trying to eat healthier lately (because, hey, it's time to admit the truth: I'm no longer in college and it's way past time that I start eating like a responsible adult, so no more frozen pizza for awhile) and later on a friend suggested that maybe this episode was triggered by my turning to healthier food TOO suddenly.  I suppose it's possible.  There can be any number of triggers of a manic or depressive (or both) episode.  Sometimes there's no apparent trigger at all: they just happen.  I mention this now, just openly wondering if the change in diet is what precipitated this latest bought with bipolar disorder.

 

And then, almost as suddenly as it began... the episode stopped.

 

Well, it was more of a tapering off.  Fortunately that occurred quicker than an episode usually does.  I could literally feel the episode coming on and now I could feel it abating.  Like a hurricane that passes over a beach, the rain decreasing until there is a measure of peace.

 

The episode was over.

 

Cost to me: a day's lost wages.  And I needed that work.

 

The alternative however, would have potentially been much worse.

 

This is what it is to have a mental illness.  But the good news is that it is controllable, to some considerable extent.

 

I no longer believe that I'm too dangerous to be with others.  Including colleagues on the job, wherever that may be.  Nor do I believe that I would be too dangerous to be in a relationship with someone, if  God were to ever bring a woman into my life (and I would never cease to be thankful to Him for that if He did).

I'm not the person who I was a decade and a half ago.  I think about the Chris Knight who existed then, who was struggling to fight against his own mind and losing that battle ever more with seemingly each passing day.  That Chris is long gone and in his place is the Chris who was always meant to be here.  Someone who can love and be loved.  Who is a hard worker, without depression being a regular hindrance. Someone who isn't going to go out on eBay one night and buy two hundred dollars of LEGO models, just because he saw The LEGO Movie and decided he needed to recreate those characters on his desk.

It's not a perfect life.  But it never will be, for any of us.  We each have our burden to bear.  Sometimes it's just more apparent than others.  I should be thankful, about mine.  I've never turned to drugs or drink to make myself not feel numbness incarnate or to stifle the excess energies.  I've never been homeless.  I've been blessed with a wonderful support system of people who sincerely care about me, just as I care about them.  When I was in southern California I got to see many people who were not so fortunate.  They were obviously mentally ill, had no permanent places to sleep at night, whose meager belongings fit inside grocery carts that were no doubt stolen from supermarkets.

In a different reality, that could have been me.

I'm not thankful enough.  To God or to the people He has put into my life.

I truly hope that someday I can make amends with the people who I have hurt, which stemmed from this disease.

That is the true burden of bipolar disorder that I bear.

Maybe God can make that be so.

 

He has done miracles before.  He can do it again.

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Well, it is a fantasy movie after all...

This is one of my favorite scenes in motion picture history.  From the 1982 film Conan the Barbarian.  Conan (Arnold Schwarzenegger) has just freed Subotai (Gerry Lopez) from certain death.  Here we see them having dinner together.

I'll let the scene speak for itself.

It's two fast friends, enjoying a meal in each other's company.  And the conversation turns to religion.

There is no bitterness or anger.  Not an iota of hatred between the two men.  They are simply discussing their respective faiths: Subotai's in the Four Winds, and Conan's belief in Crom.

I like to think that Conan and Subotai each give the other something to think about.  Conan certainly seems impressed by the point Subotai is making about "the everlasting sky".

Conan the Barbarian is a fantasy movie.  It is very tragic that people in real life can not speak to one another about their differing beliefs without descending into scorn and hatred.  We don't think anymore.  We only react.

I don't believe that either this candidate or that one is bringing about division among the people.  The people seem to enjoy the division.  It gives them hatred of others.  It justifies their desire to destroy people who don't believe as they do.  They like to hate.  They enjoy it when someone else is hurting.

"The other candidate" is merely the rationale that they use to justify their bitterness.  Hate is a personal choice on the part of the individual.  I believe that of the candidates for President there is only one who has expressed the desire and ability to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States, especially in regard to the Bill of Rights.  The other candidate does not and indeed has long expressed contempt and disdain for the Constitution.  But I am not going to "hate" that candidate for it.  I choose to not cast a vote for that candidate, and to support the candidate who I have many reasons to trust will honor the Constitution (especially in matters such as the border issue).

But I'm not going to get sucked into unwise wrath toward anyone about it.

Conan and Subotai.  Sitting together eating Lord knows what, talking about their theologies.  And appreciating each other.

Like I said, one of my favorite scenes in a movie.  So much that can be taken from watching it.

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Little girls... with GUNS!

 Is this a trend?  If it is then I hope it's a growing one!

In the past few months I've found a number of young ladies - these are girls under twelve - who are not only gun enthusiasts but are also very adept with firearms.  In every way pertaining to guns, from responsible gun handling to describing various ammo, each of these girls possesses more knowledge and expertise with firearms than most adults.

Here are a couple of examples.  And as you can tell, these ladies also command extremely authoritative and articulate voices.  No doubt a result of the confidence that they have gained from their gun ownership and use.

This first young woman, I discovered on Facebook from the ads for her father's VERY clever invention StopBox (note: I do not own a StopBox, but I do think it's pretty cool).  Meet Emma Ervin, from the state of Washington.  Current age: ten.  Emma has been owning and using guns for most of her life.  When she was seven she saved her allowance up to buy her first rifle.  She has since gone on to be a much admired and respected competitive shooter.  Emma is well versed in pistols (she currently packs a Glock as her gun of choice), rifles, carbines... pretty much anything short of a bazooka.  Emma has a page devoted to her life and shooting career at the official StopBox site and her dad maintains an Instagram page with more videos of Emma in action.

Wait, did we say videos?  Here is one of Emma, circa 7-8, explaining the four rules of handling guns safely:

 Thank you for being you Emma!

This next young woman, I discovered her this week.  Autumn Fry hails from Florida.  She is presently eleven and a half.  In another five or six years she may be dating.  If that happens the guy taking her out had better come to her door with his hat in his hands, his hands in plain sight, and a TOTALLY cheerful disposition.  Autumn is in her happy place with guns.  She understands and appreciates their designs and mechanics more than most grown-ups.  If you want a true education in firearms, you will find few instructors with as much expertise and pep as Autumn.  She has a website called Autumn's Armory along with an Instagram page.  And then there is the Autumn's Armory YouTube channel which as of this date has more than a quarter million subscribers.  For a taste of what you're in for, here is Autumn's latest video, in which she demonstrates her love for a 44 Magnum:

Autumn, when the zombie apocalypse happens, I want to be wherever you and your family are.

And to the families of Emma and Autumn and every other young girl being taught to use firearms respectfully and responsibly: this blogger salutes you.  You aren't only showing your little ladies how to protect themselves, their loved ones, and their property.  You are raising them up to have confidence and consideration.  These girls are going to go far in life, and their parents have every right to be supremely proud of them.

Y'all know of any other girls with guns?  E-mail me at theknightshift@gmail.com and I'll post about them too!

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