The Silver Lining Theory

This blog entry will be devoted to an endless topic of fascination: hope.

How can I tell you that hope is a competency? Hear me out and decide for yourself whether it is true that your life can turn around.

Life at 30 was far different for me than life at 40 and life in my twenties was unremarkable. The psychic told me I went for years not using my talent and that I was supposed to use my talent in the coming years.

Do you want proof that things can change?

I submit to you this:

A woman living in a 5 apartment: the one good thing about her life in 1993- way back 17 years ago. A life lived in the moment. She attended the Summer Garden concerts at MoMa. Took adult education courses at the Learning Annex. Went back to school four years later in the fall of 1997. Obtained her degree and a good job in June 2000. Four years later started her freelance writing career. Six years later signed a contract with a literary agent.

That was the trajectory of my life in the past 18 years I've been out of the hospital. So I can tell you this: you do not know. You cannot throw in the towel. My life is proof: I remember when I was 28 and that time is in sharp contrast to when I turned 40. This was the time span: 12 years.

I urge you to give yourself the gift of 10 years. You simply do not know what the future holds. Every day is a stepping stone to your goal. Honor the dream that won't die.

My second book talks about an exercise I'll describe to you here: honoring your three selves: the one from the past and the person you are today and the one you'll be tomorrow. Write a letter to your younger self and send her on her way. Start where you are now and have compassion for your struggle. Be scrupulous and mine the rocky soil of the path you're on to uncover your diamonds-the good things you have right inside you to speed you on your way. Visualize a day in the future when what you want has already happened and you are living the life you always dreamed of.

So there: a way to honor the past and the present and the future.

I decided to write about this as a preview to my second book.

The idea for this exercise came to me when something someone said sparked me to examine my life in my twenties. It clicked that I needed to honor myself and to do that I had to reflect on the disconnect between then and now.

Are you still not convinced there is hope? Hope coupled with action makes all the difference. So I will always tell people to do at least one thing each day to move towards a goal.

Today I viewed an apartment for sale that turned out to be too small for my furniture. It had a large closet and a coat closet in the hall. Only the kitchen did not have enough cabinets for my dinnerware and glasses and the living room would not fit everything I owned.

Still: viewing the apartment was my one thing to write down in my greatful journal-oh a Freudian slip that is grateful journal. You get the idea.

Do your one thing today and do your one thing tomorrow and keeping doing one thing throughout the days of your life.

Remember: hope coupled with action will guarantee success. I have just given you proof of this. It is irrefutable.

I urge you not to give in to the voice of doubt. Hold a lantern up to your fear and examine what is holding you back. For people with SZ and other mental illnesses I submit the internal roadblocks are far worse than any stigma.

______________________________


The phone rang when I was typing and it was a friend who I spoke to about my hope theory. He said it could go the other way and there could be a downturn. To that I said sure it's possible yet it's how you respond to the troubles that determines whether you're successful.

So be it. It is not my role in life to talk about the hell though. There will be plenty of sorrow for all of us in our lives. How do I propose we deal with this? With the courage to live true to ourselves and the understanding that we have everything we need right inside ourselves to succeed.

Every cloud is said to have a silver lining. We must look for the silver lining and stitch it into a coat to comfort us as the clouds pass by in our lives.

Hope is an almost irrational response when there is no objective evidence that things will get better.

One last thing I can tell you is that things might not get better what will change is that you can cope better with what goes on. Look fear in the face and do your one thing anyway. Changing your response is sometimes all that is needed to change your life even when external obstacles will always be there.

So you see.

Hope.

Take action.

Carry on.

Harvest Moon

Today:

I went to a storefront psychic.

Her first words were:

"You're here to make a difference."

She said I would make two trips outside the country and that on one vacation I would have a life-changing experience.

Everything she said was true without my prompting her to reveal things.

Later I ducked into a Banana Republic where I bought a pair of elegant sterling silver hoop earrings. I wear them tomorrow when I run errands.

I consider a psychic to be an adviser like a financial planner.

You might not believe in these kinds of things however I find them helpful.


Tonight:

As I type in here I listen to the Eat Pray Love soundtrack CD. It reminds me of my disc jockey days: how I would intuitively mix disparate songs like blues and punk and reggae and modern rock.

The songs on this CD oddly flow. I like the song "The Long Road" with Eddie Vedder and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. The sound of the instruments and the vocals is beautiful.

The Neil Young song "Harvest Moon" is a little happy number with an uplifting beat.

What guy would understand I live my life on the left and listen to the Eat Pray Love soundtrack and Sonic Youth and RadioSophie not Lite FM or Fresh FM or any of those FM pablum stations?

It's an odd CD that wants to make a point through music yet I'm not sure it will sell millions of copies as it's far afield from the mainstream. I'm not a fan of the CD yet it will do. It is kind of jarring.

Would like to see the movie too. Ryan Murphy and Jennifer Salt wrote the screenplay. She was featured in a write-up in the New York Times because she's a woman in the second act of her life who reinvented herself as a writer.

I recommend you read the book Eat Pray Love. I bought it in a bookstore in New Hope years ago.

Wonder now what kind of cover my memoir will have. I hope it entices readers to buy the book.

______________________________


Saturday:

I wear the hoop earrings that make me smile.

Now that I spoke with the psychic I have such hope for the coming years. She told me she saw no sickness in my life and that I would not have children. Interesting.

It was too darn hot outside again. I bought sunflowers in the green market and heirloom tomatoes and peaches and whole wheat bread and fresh mozzarella.

The sunflowers are beautiful and droopy. The heirloom tomatoes tasted warm and sweet. You buy them bruised because that is how they come: they're not attractive.

Imagine: human beings are like heirloom tomatoes: our true beauty is on the inside. We have all sorts of eccentricities on the surface that repel others only when they see deeper we are beautiful.

I had this conversation with a woman. I understand that we're of different stripes and people don't always have the same idea of what's acceptable.

Would I say there is something heirloom about those of us who live our lives left of the dial? Of course. We are in the minority. Most people chase the things money can buy and raise kids who covet living in the lap of luxury yet for cultural creatives and others like people living in poverty you cherish the small things.

Like having enough money to buy tomatoes at a green market.

Like hearing a psychic tell you good things are on the way in 2011.

Should I sign a book contract in January:
I buy an iPod that can hold a wild amount of songs. That will be my one gift to myself.

The idea about the tomatoes has taken hold in my mind and won't let go. We are all humble little heirlooms hoping for love and light. We dance under the harvest moon in a joyous epiphany that we are wonderful beyond measure.

In keeping with this theme I remember dessert plates I bought that have fortune cookie designs with little fortunes sticking out:

Why not take responsibility for your greatness?

You think it's a secret but it's not.

Suppose you get what you want.

Love is worth the risk.

Yes: love is worth the risk and we need to take responsibility for our greatness.

I urge you not to overlook the bruised tomatoes of the world.

Enjoy your day.

All You Need Is Love

Hello.

It is too darn hot outside. I'm back in the living room with the air conditioner and the fan blowing cool air.

The taxi cab yellow purse is mine: that is a reasonable copy that was only $35 not $298 like the original in the Sundance catalog. I will wear it next week when I go on a day trip with a guy friend.

A woman and I had this conversation: should we shoot for so-called normal guys or date peers exclusively? I told her I wrote in an online dating profile that I wanted to meet a guy who was healthy and committed to his recovery. The woman agreed with me that it was within my right to specify this requirement. She didn't want to wind up being a caregiver either and that is what would happen to us if we decided to date guys who continually messed up because they refused to take their medication.

I'm in love with normal now.

I walked about the store carrying various handbags to see which ones I liked the best and the yellow bag won out. I nixed a hot pink one and a large black one with flat silver studs. Could I go back for the pink one tomorrow?

Will you still love me tomorrow as the song goes I know I will love that pocketbook only I don't have room for it unless I donate to the Salvation Army one of my others.

It has been much easier to carry the same black purse to work every day and now I'm bored with it. Everywhere I go I carry that same black bag.

Will I wear the cheerful green cap next Sunday? I'll wear the skinny jeans. All's fair in love when you want to attract someone. So I wear the skinny jeans and the v neck tee shirt.

In Starbucks I once bought a great CD with cover versions of "All You Need Is Love"-the Beatles classic. The new songs sound better than the original. I revised a scene in my manuscript so that it now ends with a quote from magnets on my refrigerator.

I bought 10 years ago a book with a magnetic cover that contains letter magnets you could arrange into poems and stick on the book. Miraculously I found the book in my document bin this spring and was able to create this poem:

Listen You
We are the One
Just Do It
Love

So those words end one of the scenes in my memoir.

The idea that we all want somebody to love and need somebody to love us is central to any good novel as it mirrors our real life quest to be accepted.

There's a romance at the end of Left of the Dial. Stay tuned.

______________________________


Miracle of miracles: I steamed the wrinkles out of 15 items of clothing today. What possessed me? Did I have the energy? Was I in a sunny mood?

I've decided to donate one of the other pocketbooks to Sal's so I can go back tomorrow and buy the new bag. Mom gave me $50 so I feel I can do this.

A woman I used to know told me that Italian women have a pocketbook for every outfit. She just might be right.

I will go sign off soon because it is getting late.

Will tell you one thing:

I read the ending of the epilogue of my memoir to a woman who said she loved it. I hope it's an ending that will be a keeper. It hints of more to come.

SZ magazine promoted my Living Life column on the cover of its Summer 2010 issue with the tag line: Christina Bruni talks about recovery at mid age.

It's a great article you should subscribe to the magazine and read it. SZ now has a food section with tips and recipes for healthful eating. Next weekend I might try to make the bran muffins featured.


It pleases me that 2012 will usher in my literary life.

I will tell you as soon as I know the publication date of Left of the Dial. I feel I definitely want the subtitle to be A Life of Hope.

Have a good night.

Scooter Girl

The image of the scooter girl has returned to me.

I told someone this is how my life turned out and I can only imagine how it would be were I a woman in stilettos who wears 14kt gold and eats dinner with her gal pals at Morrell's Wine Bar.

As soon as I said that it occurred to me there is another way: as a fiction writer I can inhabit a character's life for the experiences of the novel. I can momentarily be another person with each book I write.

So you see: the image of the scooter girl.

A woman told me: "You could be a scooter girl and ride around the neighborhood."

T.S. Eliot famously is quoted: "It is never too late to be what you might have been."

On the movie screen of my mind I see a different life: like the one in a print advertisement with gorgeous people on a couch in a living room drinking Champagne.

The woman felt we were not freaks to be saved. She cheered on my fantasy.

That is what I tried to do in my memoir: create unforgettable characters who have personalities and lives apart from their diagnoses. Audrey is a living museum. Blair is a Capricorn.

Here too I remember the lines of a short poem I wrote about my younger self:

the long arm of my memory
reaches for you dear girl
to pull you out of the trash heap
of suburban fright
and plant you on firm soil.

The ending of Left of the Dial has a positive energy.

I do hope you buy the book. I estimate it will be published by 2012-in time for the beginning of the new world. You can read Astrology for Enlightenment about your horoscope leanings circa 2012 as a reflection of the Mayan philosophy of enlightenment and female consciousness.

The world is in a female era in this millennium.

I would like a turquoise blue scooter.

Imagine: that new life. Oh: I have tried in these days to imagine what other kind of life I could have. It doesn't matter. The idea still holds that I'm grateful for the struggle.

Any way I slice it or dice it I can only live through this because I'm a realist and I know I'm lucky. I checked out of the library a book The Story of Stuff about our obsession with things: buying things and replacing them with new things once they become obsolete.

So I tell you: this simple life suits me just fine. I don't need a tomb of gold or whole rooms devoted to dresses or collections of knick-knacks littering my apartment.

The 14kt gold woman can keep her place in the print advertisement.

I'll inhabit another world: where kindness is the ticket price and happiness a true commodity.

Finito.

Grateful Day

Years ago:

I would go with my parents to South Carolina where they had a condo on the waterfront. The K&W restaurant had an early bird special that attracted a lot of senior citizens. We used to rib my aunt-my father's sister-that K&W had a Venetian hour.

Today I was a K&W early bird.

I arrived to the retail district so early that the stores were closed. Luckily the tailor was open. He told me it would be too expensive to alter the Breton shirt and that I should just return it so I sent it back to J.Crew today. It was too big even thought the tag inside was stamped "16 yrs"-as in it was supposed to fit a 16-year old.

The book You Know You Want It has shipped so I should get it soon.

In August I go to Lord & Taylor to see if I can buy a structured black Petite jacket I can wear indoors in the fall and winter to replace the one I donated that was too big on me all these years.

In keeping with the Kinney's shoe store print advertisement that fashion is where you find it I bought for $7 a green v neck tee shirt with a tree design in Walgreen's. Yes: Walgreen's. The item was hanging on a rod at the end of the aisle close to where I was waiting in line. I will wear it tomorrow with my tailored skirt when I go see Dr. Altman.

Sephora beckons and I worry I will buy a lipstick to celebrate:

I've been out of the hospital 18 years.

Truly I'm grateful for my struggle.

How could this be? I see things differently. I knew by the time I was 35 that I wanted to spend my life in service to others.

The more remarkable truth is that I do all this even though it's hard. If everything came easy to me how could I possibly inspire other people on their own life path?

Listen: it is our right to keep certain things private. Nobody has to be any wiser about what's going on. Capisce?

So be it. Life isn't always tea and roses. A woman I know read my Connection blogs and commented that it brought tears to her eyes and yet she didn't once hear me complain. What good would that do?

You cannot change the music of your soul to quote Katharine Hepburn. She got that right. My old soul is tainted in this lifetime with schizophrenia. It will always be here.

Like a rebel I'm a scrappy little fighter challenging convention. Someone who lives her life left of the dial.

Tonight on the phone I spoke with my mother and she asked finally what the title of my book was. She understood it works on multiple levels. The word madness will not appear in the subtitle. Possibly the words A Life of Hope will be the subtitle yet not anything to do with madness.

For the simple reason I don't like the word madness because it invokes an extreme state that nobody can relate to. Yet I will always remember the night I had the breakdown. It is the first and most harrowing scene in the memoir.

I've been in recovery 23 years.

I will quibble with people who say you cannot recover from schizophrenia. You can recover even if you won't ever be cured. There's a difference.

I understand what it's like to struggle because to remember is to understand. Yet it is precisely because I know how hard it is to live life with schizophrenia that I make the case for considering yourself recovered should you get to a certain point.

It is possible I feel this way because I'm an eternal optimist who is now able to live life on her her own terms who feels each of us has the right to define the kind of life she wants to live.

That is the premise of my second book.

It will be hard to change most psychiatrists' minds that have a dim view of what their patients can achieve.

Mark Vonnegut is the son of Kurt Vonnegut and he has schizophrenia and is a psychiatrist whose book will be published in the fall about giving patients the right kind of medication: talk as well as drugs.

I will see if I can interview him at the Connection because this guy is on to something.

The idea that fashion and music can be forms of therapy is not far from my mind on most days either. I was in the elevator and the guy who did the electrical work asked me if I were a fashion designer because he saw my vision board with all the photos of well-dressed women leaning against the wall. I told him no I just loved fashion.

It might be Petite Bateau for me when it comes to tee shirts now especially if that vendor has a Breton stripe or some kind of other stripe that is elegant.

I'm going to wind down this blog entry because it's come full-circle.

The Eric Daman book has a section titled Closet Case about weeding out your closet. That kind of practical advice always fascinates me.

So let me go and log onto the Petite Bateau web site.

Have a good evening.

Update

I regret to tell you Matt Pinfield is no longer spinning music on Saturday nights on 101.9 FM. I tuned in at eight o'clock and some no name disc jockey was mixing far inferior music and he couldn't hold a candle to Matt. Pinfield might now be on at midnight instead however I'm not going to stay up that late to find out.

Regrets I've had a few and this is one of them so I'm going to cry my tears and pick myself up and move on. Matt you will be missed. You were the only reason I listened to that radio station to begin with. Why did you have to go?

Oh well: I'm listening to my Diana Krall CD now.

I figured out an ingenious solution to draw the cool air from the air conditioner in the window all the way to the desk where I'm sitting: I faced the floor fan towards the side of the desk and now the computer area is delightful.

One way you can create such a cross breeze: place a fan facing your air conditioner and the room will be an ice box.

Cheers.

You Know You Want It

It has been 102 degrees round here so I was exiled to the bedroom with the air conditioner on. Mom bought a new one for the living room so now I can use the computer in this room again.

I want to return to a treasured topic: fashion.

I've been re-reading the Eric Daman book You Know You Want It and would like to buy a used hardcover copy from Powell's that is in good condition if I can find one there or on Amazon.

In his introduction he writes:

"We're going to discuss how important what we wear really is, how the world uses the way we dress to draw conclusions about us, and how to use all this knowledge to look our best."

Take heart:

"The key is that 'best' means the way you see it, not the way the world has imagined it. What I want you to come to understand is that your own life, interests, dreams, and inspirations are the building blocks for your personal style-and harnessing your signature colors and pieces will be the trick to creating your own amazing look."

He believes:

"Really, whether you realize it or not, costume design is what you do every time you get dressed."

Eric Daman is the costume designer for the CW show Gossip Girl.

I can tell you that I'm gearing up to revise my style once again. This fall I will buy one petite structured black jacket to wear to work and out to meet editors.

The Breton knit shirt that I exchanged for an XXS is still too big in the shoulders so I take it to the tailor to get altered and if he can't fit it to my body alas I return it and get a credit.

You see I've kind of changed my tune or possibly it was part of my ethic all along: I admire people who are rule breakers and set trends instead of following them. I'm not that kind of chameleon though I'm ready for a change.

I have a pink Oxford shirt and a white Oxford shirt and some long sleeved tee shirts the most elegant one has a low neck and leaf fringe at the neckline and is aubergine.

As a young woman I once borrowed a friend's purple tee shirt to wear to a concert. She was a dramatic kind of woman and I coveted her style.

You see: all my life I've been inspired by other women who dress well and aren't afraid to take risks through fashion. Perhaps this is because I have a Trendy accent style along with my Classic fashion temperament.

Oh: I broke my vow not to talk about the style types in here. Forgive me. I really do think fashion is a kind of shorthand for interpreting the things a woman values in her life and her own personality.

Only 23 years later after I left the radio station I wouldn't be so iron-bound in professing that "you are what you wear" although this is most likely true.

For example: to me a woman who wears a sweatshirt and jeans and sneakers all at once is telegraphing to the world that she doesn't care about impressing people and comfort is all that matters.

Though I would submit wearing sneakers and jeans together has to be one of the most uncomfortable and sloppy looks around.

I understand that a lot of women see nothing wrong with such a look so more power to them. I often remind myself it's not that they don't care how they look they simply feel that dressing that way is perfectly acceptable.

To me I feel kind of bummy in sneakers. I have a pair of brown suede Pumas with mint green suede stripes on them that I will wear with a long green skirt and I have a pair of black sporty walking shoes.

I have two words for you: walking shoes. There's no excuse for wearing sneakers unless you're going to the gym. Save up your money and splurge on RockPorts. You can walk a mile in them no problem because they are walking shoes.

At this point I'm sure a Coach pocketbook is going to be bopped on my head. I'm sorry: I have definite likes and dislikes when it comes to fashion.

Only today the stylist did not show up at the salon. I rushed over in my black pants that end just below the knee and the black sport shoes and and my coexist tee shirt. I wore the white cotton skullcap because I knew I was getting a haircut and didn't want to shampoo it in the morning.

This is the cap that everyone comments on. It's one of my bad hair day hats that I wear to work and running errands on those days when my hair would make little children cry. So the bus driver is Turkish and comments on the coexist tee shirt because it has a Turkish symbol on it and he wonders where I bought it.

"Last year at the West 4th Street fair."

It was my stop so I told him to have a good day and exited the bus.

This whole indirect blog entry is coming to the point I was trying to make: you dress to please yourself not someone else. It took me years to understand this. I still draw the line at green hair and piercings and multiple tattoos whether alone or together on someone's body. Yet I admire a woman who is not afraid to be bold.

As a young woman I was entranced with the goth girls with jet black hair and pale skin who imitated Siouxsie Sioux the iconic lead singer of Siouxsie and the Banshees-a band popular in the 1980s in the counter culture. I slathered on my own dark blue eye shadow and streaked blush and crimson lips that made my face look abused.

I was one of those Siouxsie girls.

That is how it is when you are young and in love with the music. When I heard college radio for the first time the sound rushed in my brain and I was hooked. It is true music can change your brain chemistry. It was like a drug I wanted to hear it and needed to hear it and decades later the music moves me.

It is a Saturday night. You can go on www.1019RXP.com and listen to Matt Pinfield spin the greatest music from eight to midnight.

You see. I've been writing for a half hour about life topics. There is more to life than the workings of a defective brain. All of this-fashion and music-was a way I could be creative and recently it was suggested that my being creative might have given me the adaptability to cope with my illness later in life.

This is true.

So I would tell anyone living her life in recovery to be true to herself.

Just starting out you might have to play by other people's rules in order to get a job or be taken seriously yet once you find your wings it is imperative you express yourself as only you can.

Understand?

Even today I can admire someone who decides to color her hair green without needing to run out and dye my own hair green. That is the difference. I was impressionable when I was young as all young people are and my fashion reference point was the clothing the other female disc jockeys wore.

Is creativity an inborn trait or can it be developed?

Researchers have been able to directly link creativity and schizophrenia.

I read about this and a light bulb went off: cheers-this accounts for why I always felt like I was different: my brain was hard-wired in an unconventional way.

I will end this blog entry by giving you hope:

Schizophrenia is a medical condition that affects your brain chemistry. You are born this way and at some time in your life your brain is going to crack and you have no control over this. When your brain is ready to crack it is going to crack.

Understanding this I was cheered because it enabled me not to feel guilty for having gotten sick. It truly is the luck of the draw: a random happening yet could be triggered by stress like when my beloved Grandpa was in the coma when I was 22.

You Know You Want It.

I wanted more than anything to have a life worth living so that is why I was compelled to dare risk dreaming of having this life not the one expected for someone in my situation.

This blog entry I dedicate to the dreamers who refuse to settle for the status quo. To the women who desire to make their mark and won't take a backseat to anybody else.

Green hair optional.

Power

Hot days for cool music continue in the City.

It has reached 102 degrees. My father came this morning to give me the new air conditioner for the living room. An inferno in there without the air so I will have the porter install it on Saturday morning. Otherwise I'm exiled to the bedroom where the original air conditioner was installed.

The river of my heart flows into a great sea.

You cannot really know what it's like for other people unless you hear it firsthand from them. I've been researching multicultural mental health and the reality I can't say was shocking it was disturbing. The only word that came to my mind was hurtful. I spent two hours on the Internet researching this topic for Bebe Moore Campbell National Minority Mental Health Month and I was so upset I retired to the air conditioned bedroom.

I will spend all day tomorrow doing more research until I'm satisfied and after that I'll write the first July SharePost for the Connection. It will focus on African Americans and mental health care. I printed up a lot of documents to use to write this. My desire is to focus on solutions and not come across as angry although I was angry.

Will not spill the beans on this topic in here because I want you to surf on over to the Connection on the weekend and read it there. That to me is the appropriate forum for a lengthy talk about health care.

Although I will give you a preview:

You can Google "schizophrenia blacks" and find numerous web sites talking about a phenomenon that happened in the 1960s and 1970s during the civil rights movement. Before then schizophrenia was thought of as an innocent disease affecting white middle class women and wives who were cold and unable to perform their societal roles because they were schizophrenogenic and lacking in nurturing skills.

At the rise of the black power movement schizophrenia shifted to a violent disease. Young African American men were diagnosed with the illness "protest psychosis" and advertisements in medical journals showed black male faces the doctors could treat with medication to control their belligerence.

Jonathan Metzl who wrote the book about this trend in psychiatry was interviewed on those various web sites. The Psychology Today interview was the most detailed.

Today other reasons also account for why schizophrenia is overdiagnosed in African American males instead of affective disorders. The standard tests use to diagnose do not reflect how some patients can be wary of talking to a doctor and thus their hesitancy is interpreted as a negative symptom linked to poverty of speech and avolition.

Also: most psychiatrists who diagnose people do not ask about drug or alcohol abuse. Symptoms of withdrawal from drug or alcohol abuse mirror those of schizophrenia including hallucinations. I know someone who was lucky he was not medicated when he presented these symptoms because the staff knew he suffered from alcoholism not schizophrenia proper.

Another problem is that African Americans metabolize antidepressants more slowly than people of other races so when they are prescribed higher doses (which often happens) they experience toxic side effects.

This is what I remember reading from off the top of my head. I did read a paper that focused on solutions that go beyond the rhetoric of cultural competency and I will quote those solutions. I will also list at the end of the Connection blog entry the link to where you can find one of the Black Psychiatrists of America for treatment.

The last thing I can tell you from memory is that African Americans aren't often included in research studies that would reveal the impact of drugs on these patients.

Now you see. Why I needed a new air conditioner. It just got too hot to handle researching all this in my inferno living room.

This is how it is when you're tasked with writing blog entries for a web site.

You realize that of course this is true so you want to get up and fight.

You Google until your fingers are sore.

Heatin' Up

Summer is here.

My tactic was to order a tailored denim skirt from the J.Crew Web site so I can have something new to wear that I don't have to iron. It's been two weeks and counting since I kept telling myself I would steam the wrinkles out of the clothes.

I've agonized over these kinds of Hestia chores for quite awhile now. The solution of buying new clothes is an expensive one. So I watch out.

This topic is going to find its way into a humorous Bruni in the City column for New York City Voices because I feel I haven't done it justice in here. What's so funny about being a domestic chore derelict? I will make it funny.

Will write this column tonight and type it up over the weekend to send to the editor.

Be honest: you've bought a new shirt rather than iron a wrinkled one or instead of doing your laundry that day. Who among us hasn't?

I had to return the Breton knit shirt and exchange it for an XXS. Go figure. I can wear it with the tailored skirt on a cooler night in this hot town.

Also: I mistakenly bought two size S tee shirts from Ann Taylor on sale that I now have to donate to the Salvation Army because they're too big. I will get no empathy from most other women on this.

Though I used to be 20 lbs overweight when I first started taking the Stelazine. It took me six years to lose the weight so I do understand how a woman can be miserable carrying a few extra pounds. I was not a happy camper. Oddly: I refused to buy jeans until I dropped a size yet was perfectly comfortable wearing Esprit mini skirts.

Does the number on the scale matter? To most of us yes and that's the reality.

We need effective drugs that don't cause weight gain of upwards of 100 lbs. Only the kinds of drugs that cause weight gain are often the only ones that work to halt a person's symptoms.

I will ask the pharmacist when I see her next if she found out whether Saphris is also a weight-gaining contender because she said she's going to research this. It's the newest medication on the market to treat schizophrenia.

What's the solution? To stop taking the meds? To live a shortened life? I will always tell people to take the pills every day as prescribed to get the best results. This kind of trade-off isn't fair though.

______________________________


Sunday afternoon I will paint my first painting. It will be a color block or else a sunflower copied from the design on a dinner plate. That will be my one activity this weekend. I will listen to music and paint.

Before I took pen to page I used to draw and paint in high school and college. I stopped after I got out of the hospital the first time.

So the soundtrack will be the Heatin' Up cool songs for hot days CD I bought in Starbucks. Perfect summer music.

As my art practice continues I will upload photos of the good paintings here.

For now I will retire the household dilemma topic.

This will be the season I do my art. Wish me luck with this.

Have a good day.