Too Late

You know if I was born just slightly earlier (just a thousand years or so)… I could have been a mystic instead of labeled bipolar during my manic breakdown.

This is Rumi’s poetry.  Still hits me like my genetics did, Road to Damascus blinding light-blade.  What does it say about you when you evolve and it puts you in the mental hospital?




I can measure my happiness by two things:  My nails and my dreams. 

Short nails mean stress (because I’ve bitten them down).  Long nails mean contentment. 

Bad dreams mean my life is going super freaking well.  Good dreams mean I’m probably going through a bad time.

My dreams balance me out in a big way.  They keep my (alleged) bipolar from getting the best of me.

Seriously when do I get to say I’m not bipolar anymore?  It’s been four years. 

Well it will be on Thanksgiving when I get to celebrate my four year crazi-versary.  Hah.

Hit up this youtube channel…for-real the BEST MUSIC.  MrSuicideSleep.  Or you can just follow along as I only plan to post songs from there for the forseeable future.


Was talking with my previous roommate and she asked me if I’ve ever thought about going back to school…  Basically the conversation turned into me justifying my decision to stay in Fargo and work as a CNA.

I’m happy.  I get to take vacations whenever I want, for months at a time.  How many people get to do that?  I couldn’t do the five days a week, two  weeks a year off thing.  I just couldn’t. 

We started talking about the summer and how worried she was that I was becoming depressed then… Honestly I had forgotten all about it.  I was sad this summer. I can’t believe I forgot about that. 

So now I’m thinking too much, trying to figure out why specifically I was so out of it this summer.  Maybe because I didn’t take any solo trips.  Maybe because I didn’t have my own room, or because people kept canceling on me when I tried to make plans. 

Or maybe my brain is just that way.  Sends me down into the abyss sometimes.  It’s okay though.  I can always see the light up there.

Hmm.  Don’t know.

Coming to Terms with my Status as a Drifter

With my recent purchase of an air mattress, I officially am able to fit all my possessions in my Buick ’92.    Almost four years ago when I had my mental breakdown I got rid of SO MANY THINGS and then it was crazy and a symptom of mania.

But now when I do it, it’s normal, and a symptom of my commitment to minimalism.

“Normal”.  Huh.  Anyways my year-long no-new-clothes ban is going well.  Had to buy new shoes for work, but that’s allowed.    Haven’t cheated since I got a  hat and tank top from Minneapolis consignment store gina + will, which was over a month ago.    Regret the hat, but the tank top is black and simple and therefore I’ve been using it every weekend or so.

Two days until our two year anniversary.  More than half of that has been long-distance.

Might have to move there.  I’m so tired of the loneliness.

Have been feeling scattered, perhaps because I have been preparing to be perpetually homeless as of yesterday.  Maybe also because the majority of my heart is in Delhi and I’m here.  Or the fact that I couldn’t get shifts for September and am contemplating OTHER OPTIONS. Such as moving to Minneapolis, thus breaking my heart into more chunks and attempting to transfuse into new soil / or concrete.

I regret the lack of continuity in the post.

I really don’t care enough to fix it.


There is a kind of humility only found in someone who has crashed and burned.

I’m talking really, really, crashed and burned, not a 2-day breakdown, but months/years of bottom-of-the-abyss dwelling.

Haven’t seen it too often, but I really really value that quality (maybe because I see it in myself).  Is it sort of a paradox to acknowledge your own humility? It’s definitely something I hope I can keep up/improve upon.  Pride is nasty.

In other news, I’ll be heading on over to the Sanford Mental Health Unit here in Fargo, to see if I can get a copy of my paperwork / record of my own personal crash-and-burn.  Should be interesting.

Have a song:

And Another:

Halfway through my 16 hour shift. Didn’t get enough sleep last night and I’m crabby and weepy and just…. Gah. I can’t do double shifts. Why would I do this to myself. I have to constantly bite back anger.   Really frustrated.

Leaving for NYC in a week. Can’t even work up any excitement right now.

bowl of thoughts

I’m not depressed. I think I’m just… waiting.  To be there again, where I know I’m in the right place.

Fargo just isn’t it.  Maybe the salsa festival in Croatia.  Or maybe I have to wait until India.  I wish I could believe in inhabiting the present moment, instead of waiting for the future to bring me a better one.

I want to be completely comfortable and happy.  Few places give that to me.  Some people do, but they have mostly left Fargo.  hm hm hm.  Need a change.  Leaving to Europe in two-ish weeks.  Well first comes New York City which is sort of scary.  I believe that most people are decent people.  So why would I be scared of getting assaulted or whatever?  I’m not really.

I don’t really worry about anything.  Unlike my parents (but maybe that just happens when you have children.)

hm. hm hm.  Wish I could  be a more fun friend and roommate.  Getting so boring and home-bodyish.

I need the ocean to go stare at, 4 AM, no fear.  I need dancing, barefoot and rained on.  I need people who get me.

I should just be happy.  My job lets me travel.  Even if I have to clean up feces to get the money to do so.


if you’ve ever heard me begin a sentence with “When I went crazy…”

we’re pretty damn close, friends-wise.

It’s my birthday today.  Thank you to everyone who got me through the past four.

this song is so good to slowjam to.

genetics or you know. Other things.


Thanks to my Grandma, my Dad, and my Mom, I am now:

A clean freak

A cheapskate


And proud of all of it.

Now let’s just hope I inherited some good relationship skills from my other set of grandparents.  Very soon this will be the longest relationship I have ever been in.  Which means from here on out I’m in uncharted waters.

I MADE THIS THING.  My friend saw it, and he’s all “Oh you made rangoli.”  Which I have never heard of before, but so be it!

People keep judging me for liking this song. I don’t care about them.

Ya habibi

Contrary to popular belief I am not eternally happy.  The funniest is at work when I’m having a really awful day and one of the old people will suddenly say “My YOU’RE the happy one tonight!”  because I have the tendency to whistle and smile at everyone.  Apparently my fake smiles are very convincing.

hmm hmm hmmm I feel very stagnant.  Something needs to change.

Maybe I just really need a dance party.  Also this video is stupid but I like the song so that’s that.