Joyful Music

Ceilings

2010-08-10T18:39:00.002-04:00

The theme of today's blog duet is feelings and healing.

Once a book came into the library titled Ceilings and a guy started singing: "Ceilings, whoah whoah whoah ceilings" riffing on the song lyrics.

Right now I'm not amused.

Nelson Mandela got it right: "There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you."

This all-time great also believed [and I've quoted this a million times]: "As we let our own light shine we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same."

Why are flashlights in such short supply in the world?

When did it become acceptable to treat each other like big fat zeroes?

This is not. How human beings. Should act.

My second book is 156 pages now and I quote Nelson Mandela in one chapter.

In it I talk about a lesson I learned: about owning your feelings and recognizing them as true. You are entitled to your feelings. Nobody has the right to trample on you.

______________________________

Sometimes: you need to make a graceful exit from a relationship that isn't working.

I walked away from a woman because of what happened to me when the Stelazine lost its effectiveness. How I see it: I could have been a better friend to her. I'm wise enough to know that should I be so presumptuous to think I could bop back into her life she might not want to let me in again. How could I be certain things would be different?

So you move on as we all do and you make your peace.

I have the confidence that I have not ever treated another person like a rook.

We should all have a flashlight equipped with working batteries and replace them when the light dies out.

The relationship you have with yourself deserves to be kind and generous as well.

The sad reality is I'm preaching to the choir here and I sing off-key.

This is also the truth: if you expect great things from a person he will rise up to meet your expectations.

You can get a flashlight real cheap: it's called a smile.

Finito.

Rooks

2010-08-10T18:19:00.002-04:00

It is something that I do: seek justice.

We are all rooks-people diagnosed with SZ and other mental illnesses are treated like rooks. I cannot bring myself to describe what a rook is except to say it's a person who is less than zero-less than even a piece of____.

How can we hope to recover if our therapists and psychiatrists treat us like babies or worse-like rooks. You can read the poetry book by Gil Fagiani titled Rooks about his time at a military college where the freshmen were treated like ____.

This poet has out now a book El Blanquito in the Barrio loosely translated as a white person in Harlem about his experiences in the 1970s. I recommend you buy both books.

So I feel we have to fight back. The song "We're not gonna take it" comes to my mind now.

It was interesting that because of my earliest experiences in the mental health community-first at a day program and also at a residence in a housing project-I got out and stayed out. I kissed that life good riddance.

The idea that someone with a dx can only be a peer advocate rubs me the wrong way too. I believe we can all be mental health activists on our own terms not on the limits imposed on us by society.

This ties into my Left of the Dial philosophy: be who you are the one and only you.

I'm going to keep this blog entry short because I'm going to write another one when I'm done here. Today's feature will not be a silent movie.

There's this stereotype that if you have schizophrenia and you're not babbling or living on the margins that you were misdiagnosed and don't have a mental illness: that's how low some professionals think of us.

So how does a person fight back? First: you develop backbone. How do you do that? You take risks and do things that give you the confidence to take more risks. You start with one challenge and work on it and next you work on something else.

All the while: you do not give in to the people who say it can't be done or that your role in life is to be a mental patient warming a chair at a clinic or Clubhouse.

Expect success. Do the thing you think you cannot do: to quote Eleanor Roosevelt. Expect respect. Settle for nothing less.

Have a good day.

Chris

Breezy Point

2010-08-07T15:01:00.002-04:00

Have you ever lost a weekend?

I spent my time yesterday and today working on the second book. It will be published by 2014 and is my latest obsession since the memoir is complete at 369 pages.

A writer cannot not write.

I wrote my Life List on the back of a bookmark that advertised how to create a Life List of things to do before you die. I call mine The Sand Pail List: To Grow Young Again-instead of the bucket list. The idea is that I want to collect memories in the pail and carry it home after a life on the beach.

I wrote a short evocative poem a couple of years ago:

Breezy Point

the little girl
in a red-stripe bathing suit
at the beach
with a blue sand pail
and a box
of ginger snaps

doesn't know
the life that awaits her

here she is--
forever innocent
in a photo
her mother
or father took

she is
smiling,
smiling

and unaware.

7/7/06

The Sand Pail List - To Grow Young Again:

1. Sicily
2. champagne - often
3. driving down the Amalfi Coast
4. Maine for a seafood supper
5. San Diego - again
6. Spain
7. Day trips once a year
8. Diploma in image consulting
9. New School retired professionals writing workshop
10. fashion decorating and organizing consulting business
11. San Francisco - Sausalito - with a free mind now
12. paint oil paintings
13. volunteer work with Special Olympics
14. photography hobby
15. jewelry designer

Do you have a Life List? I recommend you write one on a napkin or a note card and keep it in a safe place for guarding.

Treasure what you have. Dream of a life beyond measure.

Check off your happiness.

Tough Enough

2010-08-01T09:00:00.004-04:00

Do you wonder who you would be if this hadn't happened?

That was the question posed to me today by a friend. Only because of how my life turned out I'm glad it happened.

She referred to a Buddhist monk who said that our anger is a part of our lives and we must cradle it like a baby. A radical idea.

It was a mix-up: she left a message on my cell saying she was waiting by the elevators only I was waiting by the elevators and she wasn't there. I had the intuition to ask the security guard if there was s second set of elevators and he said yes. So at that point I went to the pay phone to retrieve my messages to see where she was.

Luckily she was waiting for me and hadn't left although it took us an hour to connect.

Macy's truly is "America's Department Store."

I watched everyone exiting and entering the elevators.

The only thing I bought was a pink dot Tommy Hilfiger sheet set on sale: such a cheerful pattern for the summer.

We had this conversation: how we have to accept life on life's terms and go in the direction life takes us.

She understood I was like a scientist wanting to prove cause-and-effect only sometimes there's no reason why something happens only that you have a defective brain.

She echoed my sentiment that we must embrace the struggle.

To not do so you set yourself up for a lot of heartache.

I know these are revolutionary ideas I'm espousing here.

Each of us wanted to live a simple life unencumbered by the pursuit of material goods.

That's why my sheet set is Tommy Hilfiger on sale not Frette at full price.

The friend quoted a folk song:

Tis a gift to be simple
Tis a gift to be free
Tis a gift to come down to where you're supposed to be.

I have no great ambition or heights I want to scale.

Only to keep my feet on the ground and just keep moving.

I made the analogy of someone who has been languishing for years and is placed on Clozaril and has a miraculous turnaround and is forced to confront their old life.

It is as I told you: you do not know what the future has in store for you.

It can be even better than you imagined.

I submit that the struggle might always be there however when you change your perception of what's happening that is when your life will change. Using coping techniques is the way you have to put up your fists and duke it out.

You might ask why it has to be this way.

I have no answer for this. I can make the analogy of characters in a novel who grow and change through conflict. We all benefit from having a certain amount of stress to keep us on our toes. Standing still is not an option.

Do you see? Does this make sense?

When all else fails you head to Macy's for retail therapy because when the going gets tough the tough go shopping.

Cheers.

The Silver Lining Theory

2010-07-24T16:16:00.003-04:00

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

2010-07-22T21:20:00.007-04:00

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

2010-07-18T16:16:00.002-04:00

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

2010-07-17T14:00:00.002-04:00

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

2010-07-14T18:09:00.002-04:00

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

2010-07-10T22:02:00.002-04:00

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

2010-07-10T18:19:00.002-04:00

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

2010-07-08T12:19:00.005-04:00

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

2010-07-01T12:16:00.011-04:00

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.

The Secret of Life

2010-06-29T18:06:00.004-04:00

Hello.

It is possible I have discovered the secret of life and I want to share it with you.

I decided to write this blog entry to tell you one thing: it is imperative to not accept trash in your life. You don't need it and you don't need other people talking down to you. You can do better and must strive to find people who get this.

I was inspired to write this because The 10th Anniversary issue of O magazine featured a column titled "10 Rules I've Unlearned" by Martha Beck. Number 6 was: It matters what people think of me.

She realized her anguish came from her hypothesis that other people's hypothetical hypotheses about her mattered. This insight paralleled a shift away from my own painful imagined fears that carried me through the years.

Happy Birthday, O!

I had this conversation with a woman who talked to me about control freaks.

I realized that we could stay in control when we recognize that it's our right and duty to brook no nonsense and not accept junk attitudes from people.

This has been easier for me to do all along as regards stigma.

Now I can hold this ethic dear with anyone I meet or come in contact with.

The amazing discovery was that I didn't have to forgive myself I had to pull no punches and decide not to co-opt other people's craziness. Their bull crap is not mine or yours to swallow.

It was crystal-clear to me all of a sudden that we cannot be passive recipients of stigma or violence or hate of any kind or rudeness or nonsense.

I understood this when the woman told me I was able to take on the schizophrenia as another thing to fight because I had survived bullying in middle school.

It's true: I fought the hardest battle of my life getting in the ring against the SZ. Anyone who doesn't give us credit for doing this I would strike out of my life.

So I dedicate this blog entry to all you scrappy little fighters out there.

The key to taking control is to get other people on board without their realizing they've done what you want them to. You seduce them instead of berating them and they will come around. I'm not talking about sex: I'm talking a different kind of union where others can't help but view you in a positive light because you've made yourself irresistible.

You don't need people telling you you're trash. God doesn't make junk. You're not that kind of pot or kettle: if they want to project their insecurities on you that's only a reflection of them not you.

This truly amazing discovery has carried me through the past couple of days as I walked about interacting with people.

The woman told me this process of changing would be a life-long one for me.

I have said it before that you should give yourself the gift of a lifetime in which to recover. Recovery is a journey not an endpoint although it is possible to consider yourself recovered from the schizophrenia.

So I urge you to strive to always keep growing as a person.

What can we do?

Give stigma the boot.

Give racism the boot.

Boot out of our lives any fear of what people think of us.

We can do this instead:

Decide to love.

Keep cool.

Strutting

2010-06-20T20:24:00.002-04:00

The oil spill from BP that has slicked wildlife and polluted water is unforgivable.

Long ago I decided I didn't want to own a car because I didn't want to be dependent on Middle Eastern oil or for that matter any oil source.

The economic hardship and mental health stress on the people like fishermen who depend on the water for their income are hazardous side effects as well.

You ought to read Terry Tempest Williams book Finding Beauty in a Broken World where she talks about the utter disregard of the natural world and the genocide in Rwanda. From out of human annihilation she worked on an art project to help the people in Africa heal.

Today I was reminded of the peril of steamrolling over the natural world.

The book The Long Emergency is the most dire account of the coming end of the world as we know it that started when farmland was paved over to create shopping malls and industrial parks.

One place in the natural world that still exists is Grounds for Sculpture in Hamilton New Jersey where I and the other women in my writing workshop read our work at an outdoor poetry reading. I read the Italy scene that is linked to on my author web site via an audio file. So if you click on the link you can hear me reading what I read today at the Poets Invitational.

One of the poets read about nature and he came up to us in the Peacock Cafe after the reading to tell us he liked our writing. We also praised him and started talking about the need to be in nature.

The peacocks strutted freely outside in the park. So beautiful. I marveled at how their strutting reminded me of the Nelson Mandela quote about letting our own light shine and in turn giving other people permission to shine.

The sole role of a peacock is to strut and I felt that it is often hard for people diagnosed with schizophrenia and other mental illnesses to strut their stuff in a world where their very existence is discounted. Long ago I rebelled the role of mental patient however traditionally that was the occupation prescribed to us.

We were told to silently pop pills and not make waves and collect a government disability check and exit the psychiatrist's office quickly so he could be done with us.

Ah: the proud peacock. We should all be so proud to strut our stuff without fear.

Did I nail this with my philosophy recorded here awhile ago: "here's the playing field. please join in."

It is why as I continue to add scenes to my memoir and revise the scenes I"m writing that I realize what I did was ultimately not about me: it was about shining my light so that others could feel they had the right to shine a light on themselves.

Hope is a competency. Hope can also be a kind of therapy that sustains us on the long road to recovery. By bringing my story to light I wanted to give others the hope that they too could have a life worth living.

So this is how my book differs: I don't have a Yale law degree. I'm just an ordinary person who did something she's convinced a lot of people diagnosed with schizophrenia could do too:

We can live a life of our own choosing. We can live life on our own terms.

That is how I defined the kind of recovery I wanted to have: to be able to do the things I want to do and to afford to live in my own apartment by working at a job or jobs I loved. Hey: to be able to buy a new Sade CD without going broke.

As soon as you start out on this road I suggest you define what your ideal recovery would be like and take steps to reach it knowing that in the future your definition will most likely change the farther along you reach.

I wrote in a recent Bruni in the City column for New York City Voices that the reason I succeeded in getting what I wanted is that I always had higher expectations for myself. Did I tell you in here to shoot for the stars because you could settle for the moon?

Set modest and realistic goals just starting out and as you achieve these goals begin to set goals that are just slightly beyond your reach.

I have been criticized by a peer who told me I was just a yuppie who got fumbled out by a waiter in a restaurant so popped into a program because it was the trendy thing to do. His self-stigma was something I could not forget and his comment stayed with me all these years.

Another guy who was a peer sent me an e-mail on a dating website when he had no intention of dating me. He wrote: I see your profile and wonder if you're all that. Who do you think you are? This was because I wrote that I liked yoga, walking, dinner parties, interior decorating and browsing museums. In my honesty I wrote that I was looking for a guy who was healthy and committed to his recovery.

Do you think I felt threatened or intimidated by these insecure guys? Heck no. I'm not going to date someone who continually screws up by not taking his medication or doing things counterproductive to his own recovery.

Apparently that was too much to ask.

I can pretty much shine a light on other people because that is my ethic. I see how it is in that when you or I let our own light shine we open ourselves to criticism.

Ah: the peacock.

He's going to strut his stuff and give everyone a glorious show.

We should all take a page from his book.

Enough said.

Good night.

Diamond Life

2010-06-13T09:21:00.004-04:00

The Sade CD Diamond Life has the song "Smooth Operator" on it. The Patti Smith CD features all covers including "Smells Like Teen Spirit." The Pearl Jam CD Backspacer has the song "Just Breathe" that is so beautiful.

Now I have new music to listen to while I work at the computer on my second job. This will carry me through the day.

Always: music and light and going out. I would urge anyone in recovery to go to the edge of their comfort zone to grow as a person. Standing still is not an option. Move to the beat of life. Take one risk every day.

Life is good. I always hold out the hope that there can be joy. We have the right to feel good and to enjoy life.

You don't recover by lying on the couch watching TV all day. I recommend a person do volunteer work if she can't work at paid employment. One summer I volunteered my time at the Forget-Me-Not thrift shop for the Alzheimer's Association. I had gotten involved with them because my Grandma had this illness. I would sort the new arrivals, arrange the clothes on the racks and ring up the orders. I felt it was something I had to do that summer.

It was the in-between time when I was living in limbo drifting through time. I would tell anyone that this happens: a plateau or a wandering not knowing where you'll be next. Like a nomad I traveled from place to place.

You will not want to hear that it can take a long time to reach the goals you have for yourself. Yet that is how recovery is: it is not quick and it is not easy and I have said this before. It took me three years from the time I was diagnosed to the time I obtained my first job and a year later I moved into my own apartment.

Here's the deal: I don't measure success by outward signs that a person has arrived in the world. I keep time in my recovery to subtle signals: a day that I can go to the poetry reading or a day that is free. Paula Cole wrote about this in her song "The Road to Me" about how the car and the house are not who she is they are only steps along the way.

Everyone living in recovery has the capacity to live a good life. My definition of recovery is the ability to live life on my own terms. To not settle for less.

It's why I'll take one good day over 50 not-so-good days as the barometer of success.

Do you see how it is?

I will always refer in here to the idea that we have only one day.

My goal is to chip away at the marble to reveal some kind of insight to offer hope to others and to inspire readers.

So that one day a light bulb will click and someone will say: "I want to recover and I'm going to take steps to make that happen."

The first step is to take the medication although popping pills is not the sole measure of our success. Going out the front door and entering life is the next step.

Now you see.

Enjoy your day.

The Long Road

2010-06-12T23:32:00.003-04:00

Loot:

3 CDs: Patti Smith Pearl Jam Sade. A silver ring with a purple stone that the street fair vendor claimed was .925. The poetry book The Brother Inside Me.

Enough.

I read a short scene from Left of the Dial at the poetry reading. The women in the audience loved what I read. Even among the Italians I feel like an outsider.

Eddie and I ducked into the Spanish restaurant afterward for dinner. We gave each other the high five before parting ways.

What do I know? You live with this. You live through it. You reconcile your checkbook in your head so you'll be able to buy the CDs. You remember the leap you took 20 years ago that enabled you to buy CDs every so often. It is the Twentieth Anniversary of Your First Job so you have been employed two decades.

That is my life: the life I chose in August 1990 when I went down this lonely road. Now I'm a voyager traveling with kindred spirits. I don't go by age or race or ethnicity. One of my best friends was once a woman who collected a disability check and watched WWF every Saturday. A friend once told me I embrace other people's differences.

Would I go as far as to say that? I would not want to puff myself up that way. It comes down to this: I have no expectations that people be other than who they are. A person who likes herself will be able to accept people without trying to change them.

So the short of it is that life can be painful living with the SZ and you know that life isn't perfect and neither are you.

I wrote in my notebook that God is my lantern on this long road.

It comes down to fifty extra dollars to buy the CDs and a royal obscene tip that Eddie and I give the waiter in the restaurant.

Your sorrow is real and so is your joy.

Tomorrow I will listen to the Pearl Jam CD before I head out.

I cannot tell you that it gets easier although in most ways it does.

You cherish your friends and your loved ones because they have traveled with you down this road.

Life is good. I would tell you that life is always good.

Be brave and live your life with passion.

It is not that I don't suffer. It is that I see no reason in dwelling on the pain.

I would not judge someone else unless I had walked in their moccasins along this road.

Do not be fooled: we have the choice: to do what life demands of us or to live in fear.

I suggest we take action to live true and to accept that this is not something we asked for or deserved or wanted yet we can make of it something positive.

In the end:

You have one day in time like a snowflake to treasure and catch before it slips by.

A day unlike any other to rejoice in because God made this day just for you.

In some ways it gets easier. In some ways it is always a challenge.

Listen to the music. Dance as if no one is watching you. Live true.

Goodnight.

Faithful

2010-06-12T14:26:00.003-04:00

This morning I listened to the Corinne Bailey Rae CD The Sea on my iPod dock. She has a gorgeous voice and I would like to buy her other album.

Today I realized the new salon has yellow walls which pleased me because it is a joyous color. My haircut is new: a riff on Isabella Rossellini's and I bought the pomade to style it. Sophie told me I don't need a hair dryer to recreate the cut every day.

Tomorrow I will wash and set the hair in the new cut and wear my contact lenses to meet O. Miraculously I woke at 7:30 am and so had time to listen to the CD.

Last night I went to a new support group for the first time. I recommend peer support as an option for living a good life. You might have to search around to find one that is to your liking however I recommend you make the effort.

Sometimes it is too much to hear other people's woe so that is why you must have other outlets that give you joy. Like a beauty salon. A manicure. Treating yourself to a new CD. Next up I buy Pearl Jam's Backspacer with the song "Just Breathe" that is so beautiful. Shortly before my second two-week hospital stay I saw Pearl Jam at the Limelight. This concert scene made its way into my memoir too.

The psychic I went to early this year told me she saw Left of the Dial being published. I take this on faith even though it's hard for me to believe in anything that doesn't carry scientific proof. The word I would rather use to describe my hard work in writing the memoir is devotion: my unwavering commitment to doing what it takes to sell tons of copies of my book.

Devotion I can understand because it involves free will. With true faith you have to suspend your doubt and it's hard for me to do that. I prefer to see things in black-and-white and signed and sealed and written in stone and delivered on a tablet.

You've got to have faith even if it is as irrational as hope sometimes. I have faith that my memoir will be published because the woman who gave me the reading said it would be. So the next step is doing the hard work to revise and add scenes to the manuscript.

Did I have faith just starting out in my recovery that I would recover? In some ways my denial about the truth of having schizophrenia propelled me to take those early risks to live independently and get my first job. It was a coping mechanism because surely if I believed there was no hope for someone who had schizophrenia I would've been defeated.

The element of living in hiding was one I turned inside-out in order to succeed. Interesting: I don't consciously recognize that I keep the faith or have the hope that I can do other things in the future. Stepping out and doing those things is like drinking a glass of water. You drink a glass of water without realizing that water=life. It's just something you do to be healthy.

One thing I recommend you do is keep a grateful journal to record your tiny victories every day. I have recently begun writing them down in my Life's Little Reminders journal I bought in Starbuck's last year.

That is how you keep the faith: you boost your spirits by re-reading the things that cheer you about yourself and your life. It can be a beautiful life if you see the positive around you.

How you keep positive is to seek other people who willingly reinforce that you are a good person and can recover. A woman had this conversation with me: how I believed I would publish Left of the Dial because the psychic told me I would.

This is why an oncologist should not tell a patient she only has six months to live: it becomes a self-fulfilling outcome. Plenty of cancer patients live 12 years or more when given the option that this is possible.

So as I've said before I consider it unethical to tell someone diagnosed with schizophrenia that she can't recover and her prospects are limited because she will be bleached of hope.

It comes down to the Nelson Mandela quote I quote often in here:
"As we let our own light shine we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same."

The way to do this is to lead by example.

My own quote is equally as inclusive:
"Here's the playing field. Please join in."

Today I hope you are having a good day. I hope this blog entry cheers you. I will go sign off now as I want to listen to some music.

Enjoy.

Hello Sunshine

2010-06-10T17:51:00.004-04:00

June is in swing now: things are moving along.

How does a person go from feeling the world is so super sunny to crying for five nights straight? Then she sees the silver light shining through the window.

I prefer this kind of silver light that is peaceful to the glare of a day that is so super sunny. Susanna Kaysen in the ending of Girl, Interrupted spoke about a different kind of light. It was a beautiful ending. When you reach the end of your rope you hold on to the light. The silver light shining through your window is enough to get you through.

All is well: June is here. It's summer in two weeks.

The idea struck me that I will send out my clothes to the laundry center and pick them up later. I will also send my clothes out for a dry press at the dry cleaner instead of steaming them on my own. This week after the fall I was able to steam some pants and shirts only to continue is an effort. I will do what it takes to function well and that could involve having the laundry center do my laundry and having the dry cleaner press my clothes.

Otherwise . . . the energy and time it takes I don't have right now.

Life is to be enjoyed not spent on the Hestia chores of the hearth is how I see it. Once in a journal writing workshop the instructor read about four goddesses and told us Hestia doesn't have a persona because she's relegated to the hearth. I chose this goddess to write about because I was entranced with the myth of such a woman.

Like with all things-the bread and butter jobs of my life-I find myself needing to streamline or else the duties and responsibilities pile up mercilessly eating into my time. I would rather watch Property Virgins or House Hunters on HGTV.

This the goal for those of us in recovery: to have the kind of life where we can choose to send our clothes out and hire a housecleaner or do it ourselves if we are so inclined.

Trust me: I was always averse to domestic chores from a young age and resisted my mother's pleas that I help her with these kinds of things. Of course it is within her right to have told me to pitch in.

Yet I was not a Traditional woman that way and would rather go off to the library to check out books to read or curl up on the bed listening to the FM radio and writing in my diary.

So I'm interested in how other people in recovery from schizophrenia attend to the activities of daily living: cooking cleaning shopping doing laundry managing appointments. We could learn a thing or two from each other for sure so feel free to drop me a comment here. This will also be the Question of the Month for July at the Connection so surf on over there on July 1st and join the dialogue.

It comes down to experimenting to see what works for you and going with that routine and changing course when the routine no longer is useful.

You figure this out quickly because you need this parachute when the days are not so super sunny. All I need is my apartment a computer and a radio. Those are the essentials to live a harmonious life. Next up would be clothes.

The key for me was to find easy recipes to use to create different meals that don't involve a major pots-and-pans production and endless clean-up. Monday night I followed the Real Simple recipe for a turkey and avocado salad. I grated parmesan cheese on top of the Boston lettuce and shaved the hard skin off the avocado and sliced it and folded the sliced-thin deli turkey and added heirloom cherry tomatoes too.

So in under 20 minutes I had dinner: che bella!

I see where the summer is headed: to KISS or keep it simple sweetheart.

To have a guy clean the pots and pans I would always cook dinner no problem.

One way to save money is to buy salad fixings instead of paying$5 a pop at a fast food joint. It might be cheap to have a burger and fries every day only you risk your health doing so thus it's more expensive in the long run.

Other women tell me I always eat healthful foods and I would protest. My downfall is that I miss out on whole grains sometimes. It's why I like to cook the Kashi Mediterranean pizza to have for dinner once a week: it has 10 grams fiber and whole grains. Bob's Red Mill bulgur also has a significant amount of fiber and whole grains in one serving alone. Also wild rice is a whole grain and I stocked up on the Uncle Ben's wild rice mix so I will try to cook a package on the weekend.

You have to make things as convenient as possible for you to do. Give yourself enough time to prepare a good meal. Accentuate the positive: do only the things that reinforce your good humor in recovery and strive to halt involvement in acrimonious endeavors with other people.

The goal is to feel sunny even when it's raining.

Do you see what I'm talking about?

You can't do any of this when you keep resisting taking your medication or only sometimes take your pills. Though I'm preaching to the choir possibly in all of this.

I hope you enjoy the rest of the spring and have a good summer too.

Cheers.

Soldier of Love

2010-06-06T13:33:00.003-04:00

Today:

The song "Party Like a Rock Star" blasted on the stereo system as the adults sat on the beige chairs at the table under the beige umbrella.

You're only 13 once. It was her party so she could listen to whatever music she wanted even if the lyrics were shouted over and over as if the band couldn't think of anything else to write: party like a rock star party like a rock star party like a rock star.

It's a different world: teens are connected at the hip to their iPods. I regret I bought my iPod shortly after it first arrived on the scene so I paid $250 and it can only hold 500 songs.

Now you can get an iPod for $250 that holds 10,000 songs or some other great amount. I listen to my iPod on the dock I bought that has an HD radio so I can listen out loud in my apartment instead of with ear buds.

Right now I listen to the Sade CD. "Soldier of Love" is the hypnotic song coming through the speakers as I type. I'm going to import vocalists to my iTunes library so I can have a long playing soundtrack for nights when rock-n-roll won't do.

The list:

Diana Krall

Corinne Bailey Rae

Sade

Norah Jones

kd Lang

Those are the ladies.

I have a Sting CD which is pretty good too: Sacred Love.

Would like to buy an early Sade CD with her classic songs on it. She hit the scene when I was a disc jockey in the 1980s and though I didn't play her on the radio I always loved her music. She was too mainstream to play on late night college radio.

A play list would look something like this:

The Chills

Naked Raygun

Das Damen

Sonic Youth

The Replacements

Dinosaur Jr

I will always remember my college years: they were the happiest time of my life and then I had the breakdown.

Can I say today is better? Yes.

You do not know when you are first diagnosed how your life will turn out. Your life could turn out to be better than it was before you got sick. That is the ideal to strive for: to live your best life.

I'd much rather listen to vocalists than noisy out-of-tune music. I will delete Soul Asylum and the others from my iTunes library and upload the vocalists instead. Will even nix u2's Achtung Baby because I've played that CD numerous times and it's gotten boring.

Gone will be the Everclear albums as well.

The music no longer appeals to me though the lyrics to "One-Hit Wonder" I will always remember: about how people can't hurt you unless you let them. That song is off So Much for the Afterglow a good CD. I used to like the early Everclear music too.

Goodbye, jumble!

All that loud music is gone.

As you move along in your recovery things change.

I'm not the same person I was when I was 22. Life changed me. I don't hold the same values. I aspire to live with compassion and forgiveness for all human beings. Will I fall short? OK: we all fall short.

My goal is to stay out of the hospital long-term.

The day the music died was a heartbreaking time in my life. I was forced to decide: remain stuck in the past or roll with the change and move into the future.

It can be liberating to let go.

Tomorrow I will listen to the new iPod music.

What fell away was not meant to be. We look so longingly at the door that closed that we are unable to see the door opening before us.

Recovery is a door. Music was the key that unlocked it. My first therapist told me that it's possible I didn't get sick any sooner because I was a disc jockey involved in a career that gave me great joy.

So I urge you: listen to the song of life. Dance when you get the chance.

You will get older. The old music will no longer do.

Be brave and change your tune.

Goodnight.

Inspi(RED)

2010-06-05T12:52:00.006-04:00

A friend coined the term champagne and complain because I don't drink yet wanted to drown my sorrows in something.

You know you're on to something good when you haven't steamed the clothes free of wrinkles yet you have a new outfit to wear. Seriously. I might just bring the clothes to the dry cleaner for a dry press.

Your life changes after you're diagnosed. You're less inclined to get hung up over things that don't matter. So you take a wrinkle or two in good stride. You laugh when you find out you accidentally threw out the new gift card you bought for a birthday gift and will have to go back to the store to buy another one.

Imagine that: I accidentally threw out a new gift card.

I'm reminded of a woman I met who told me: "I didn't ask for the schizophrenia." She had done well for herself even after the diagnosis. I could understand how she felt.

So sometimes you walk around the clothes on the floor and tell yourself you'll steam them at night when it's cooler. Then the night comes and you tell yourself you'll do it in the morning when you have more energy.

The SZ doesn't take a holiday: the medication can only keep the symptoms at bay.

Tonight I will listen to the Sade CD Soldier of Love. It's not advised to drink when you take Geodon so I'll have one flute only.

As much to celebrate as anything: I've been out of the hospital 18 years. That's a good long time to be free. I would like to treat myself when I celebrate my 20-year anniversary. It would be quite an achievement.

As the years go by I barely count them any more.

You come to the time in your life when forgiveness matters above all else.

A woman told me that people with SZ tend to be self-critical and this is a symptom. Of course. It's one thing to objectively know that you must forgive yourself and it's another thing entirely to actually do the forgiving.

She told me that Bono helped engineer the Product(RED) success story. The energy of the color red is a life energy that perfectly captures this mission to save the lives of people diagnosed with AIDS in Africa.

She protested when I told her I do what I do because it is just something I do. It was getting late so she had to leave yet I wanted her to stay longer to cheer me.

Funny I wonder if I met Bono if he would be receptive to someone diagnosed with SZ. I've been reading my numerology print-outs and I have numbers that indicate I have a humanitarian impulse so I would be in heaven if I met Bono.

I bought years ago a Product(RED) tee shirt that is red and has inspi(RED) written in white letters across the front.

One thing is certain like the U2 song lyrics suggest we have to carry each other.

This is a cruel illness that nobody deserves to get and we don't deserve the stigma either.

So I hope you find some comfort here in this blog and some good cheer to power you through the day. Not every day will be a good day so the goal is to have more good days than not-so-good days.

One time my mother told me that from an early age I had a self-preservation ethic. Living with the SZ you learn quickly what you need to do to recover and early on your life is devoted to calming your brain.

It gets easier with time in certain ways and in other ways it's still a challenge. You will live with this for the rest of your life.

So you amass a small fortune in baubles. You celebrate your freedom with a flute of champagne. You realize that the first step is to acknowledge you need help and so you can seek help now instead of waiting.

The clothes are still on the floor waiting for the day you get enough energy to steam them free of the wrinkles. You can live with the wrinkles and a little dust yet not with a mess.

You wash the champagne glasses before you go to bed. They are your favorite ones you bought at a dollar store: a quartet of classic flutes.

You store the two unopened champagne bottles in your wine rack happy that you'll be ready to celebrate anything at a moment's notice.

At least:

The moment is now.

You're still trying to figure out how to forgive yourself.

You are inspired to nail forgiveness down.

Here's to the next 20 years.

The toast you give yourself:

To prevail!

Food Rules

2010-06-04T21:06:00.003-04:00

Tonight:

I absconded with the February 2010 issue of Lucky magazine.

In it the beauty closet editor Jean Godfrey-June writes: "I am one of those lunatics who use only natural deodorant." Is that supposed to be amusing? She claims natural deodorant doesn't work so knows people will question her sanity in using it.

The list of uses of that word could go on and on. It screams at you. The word should be retired pronto. Were you to be gripped with schizophrenia there would be nothing funny about it. Equating the poor judgment of using natural deodorant with losing your mind is a mistake.

I would expect better journalism from such a magazine.

Then again I would question an advertisement for 100 calorie snacks. There's nothing healthy about consuming 100 calories of empty calorie food either. If you need a 100-calorie snack you can buy a banana for under a dollar or a pint of skim milk. You can go in Starbucks and get a KindBar with slightly more calories that will undoubtedly fill you up unlike the 100 calorie packages of nonsense food.

This is not a swipe at any particular manufacturer. It's a gripe against any food marketer who would ply women with unhealthful snacks in the guise of not gaining weight.

I so rarely eat junk food now. When you start losing weight it's a disincentive to continue eating chips. I used to buy Sun Chips because they're the lesser of many evils and most likely in a pinch I would buy them again.

What is a good option: buy Triscuits and bag them in zipper bags so you can control the portions and take them with you on the go. Yes that sounds like a good idea: I will buy Triscuits tomorrow night to snack on during the weekend.

You can make your own healthier 100 calorie treats this way by buying zipper bags to take with you and thus the cost will be cheaper too. Bag almonds. Buy cherries and wash them and bag them too. Buy Luna bars or Clif bars.

I sometimes have a Clif bar for lunch with a banana or a glass of milk.

You have to draw the line somewhere when you dine out and order the banana cheesecake for dessert. Though I must say I left a quarter of the cake on the plate. You see if I'm going to splurge I'm not going to snack every day on mini pretzels. I'm going to wait two weeks and dive into the cheesecake.

A woman wrote a letter to the editor in O criticizing the magazine for using the expression: "Nothing tastes as good as thin feels." She felt it would encourage anorexia.

I have gone around in circles on this when my point was that the word lunatic should be taken out of circulation not only in casual use but in any use. Then my SZ mind drifted to another page.

Nuts really are a good choice for a snack: especially almonds or walnuts. Walnuts have Omega 3 fatty acid if I remember this right. String cheese is another occasional lower-calorie snack that is also good for you because it has calcium and protein.

I'm not saying to have cheese all the time mind you.

The key is to eat what you eat in moderation. SZ magazine now has a food page that I'm going to read over the weekend. I printed up a Real Simple recipe that I'm going to try out next week too. I also photocopied some other recipes to try.

File this blog entry under strange. Don't get me started on the category of organic soda.

The take away from all this is that if we plan and prepare our snacks in advance we won't be tempted to chow down on junk food. This certainly benefits anybody on a weight-gaining drug. I have this theory that certain foods cause weight gain more than other foods. So I'm convinced if a banana has the same amount of calories as a bag of chips you should have the banana. It is not a scientific theory that pretzels cause a greater weight gain than a banana so don't quote me on this. Though I venture it's why you need to eat more pretzels to satiate your hunger than you do with healthful foods.

To me the goal is sustenance: food that is good for you can taste good. Everyone needs vitamins and nutrients to fuel her body. High fiber foods make you feel fuller than empty snacks do so you don't have to eat as much to get a big payoff.

I recommend the book Food Rules by Michael Pollan that is short and to-the-point. You can read it in under an hour if you're so inclined. I'm not the first person to rail against agribusinesses that would convince us high fructose corn syrup is really OK. I likely won't be the last person to lament that unhealthful food is so cheap and nutritious food is beyond the reach of many Americans.

What's the solution? Take back your power by voting with your pocketbook. Paying more for nutritious food is okay because when you eat less food to begin with you save money in the long term. This point was not lost on me when I read it in a review of Food Rules in a newspaper.

Now. I'm going to quit while I'm ahead. It's late and I must be going.

Enjoy your night.

Sunny

2010-05-30T17:36:00.003-04:00

In drumming up ideas for this blog I decided I would try to be solution focused to show people a way of going from dreaming to doing.

I would like to recommend two techniques that work to help you create the outcome you desire. The first tactic is creative visualization: to rehearse in your mind a day when everything is going the way you want it to turn out.

In keeping with this you can create a vision board with just funky enough images to jar you into thinking about what you want to achieve. The June O magazine talks about this too.

Another tactic is to write down in detail where you see yourself on a certain date in time and to describe everything that has happened in your life by that date.

I know the tide had turned when I wrote in my notebook: The publisher will receive the final copy of my manuscript for Left of the Dial on June 15, 2011. The moment I could envision this happening is when a literary agent expressed an interest in working with me.

Along the line of these two techniques I also recommend writing down a mantra over and over. I have two running alongside each other right now: "I keep my feet on the ground" and "It's so super sunny."

First you must acknowledge where you are now and decide that you can get to where you want to be if you just believe you can. To cast off the self-doubt write such positive phrases in your journal. Write the events down as if they've already happened.

When I was 35 I wrote down that I wanted to become an expert in recovery from schizophrenia and seven years later I was offered the position as the expert blogger for the Connection.

So you see how it goes. Re-read your positive affirmations every day. Carry them on index cards and read them on the train or at the doctor's office or during your lunch hour.

The great thing about setting goals is that you can do it yourself. I was listening to Oasis on the radio with their song "Wonder Wall" and I realized that's what it's like to be your own wonder wall: you can trust you will succeed because you are your own rock.

I would tell you that nobody else can give you what you want you must go out and get it. Nobody can do this for you. It's your recovery and you own your victory.

I was able to save myself using these techniques. That's why I recommend them for other people. I started to tell myself "It's so super sunny" because I borrowed this term from the image of the taxi cab yellow leather slouch bag sold in the Sundance catalog. The sunny color inspired me greatly.

You might be a skeptic. You might not believe that by writing down what you want to happen it will actually come true. I urge you to suspend your disbelief. Try it and you might like what you discover.

Friday I bring my goals binder to Dr. Altman's office to talk to him precisely about my dream for the coming years. That's another thing: I'm sure not many people keep their goals in a binder yet I would tell you to do that and refer to it regularly. Or at least write them down in a spiral-bound notebook or a hardbound journal.

The key is to write down your goals and review them often.

I'd love to hear from readers about your take on this suggestion. What are some techniques you use to set goals?

I will use this blog entry to create a Question of the Month at the Connection so look for it in August. The June question will be about therapy and the July question will be about creativity and mental health. So surf on over to read those SharePosts and the comments people give in response to the questions.

Right now I will ask you: how can you not believe it's so super sunny if that is the energy you put out there in the world?

It begins with the words we put into our head.

You don't have to be a natural optimist either to take advantage of these techniques. The term "act as if" describes this tactic. In other words you fake it till you make it. The words you put in your head will influence your behavior. So given the choice wouldn't you rather act as if you were capable of succeeding as the precursor to achieving your goal instead of giving in to the self-doubt?

You see.

Yes indeed.

Fortune Cookie Blues

2010-05-29T21:29:00.000-04:00

Tonight:

The chocolate brioche pudding with caramel ice cream.

Too late I realized I should have offered to buy my friend the Buffalo jeans he coveted. I could have treated him. Feel like such a heel now that it didn't occur to me until after he drove me home. He would look good in those jeans.

Instead I'm rattling through the night in my own way: listening to the rock-n-roll radio and browsing the Sundance catalog Web site. It's like a hobby now.

You'll see I've edited the other blogs I link to on the right. I want JM to be as uncluttered as possible. I hope you enjoy stopping by.

It is a good night of good fortune.

I'm reminded of a wise lyric to the effect that nobody can hurt you unless you let them hurt you. I doubt it would be far off for me to tell you people with schizophrenia are more sensitive than others. We cannot go against this sensitivity and must use it in a positive way: channel it into compassion for ourselves and others in the world.

So tonight's fortune would be that I understand there are two sides to the coin of living with SZ: we can crack open a hopeful message when we use our talents to recover. This is how I see it: you can recover. You can do great things for yourself as well as for others. It is not selfish to want to better yourself.

Today I picked up the Style A to Zoe book to have on hand. I will tell you now and I would tell you a week from Tuesday that surely dressing well enabled me to recover. I used my love of fashion to create a persona that meshed with who I am.

That is the way you smash the stereotype of someone diagnosed with schizophrenia: you live true. I framed a green greeting card with a fortune cookie print out of which a fortune read: Who cares what everyone else thinks. Be true to yourself. This is my life's motto. It is the only way a person can truly be happy: to live in sync with her self.

You will only be miserable trying to be someone you're not. I have a failed business career that proves this and one failed romance with a guy who thought normal was the holy grail. I felt normal's overrated and was glad when we went our separate ways. Just the word normal rubs me the wrong way.

As AC touts in her blog: "Let's put normal on the shelf and give different a fighting chance."

Possibly a lot of us fear being ourselves because we fear others will reject us if we don't fit in to some kind of mold. I was aware as early as 11 years old that I wasn't like the other girls in the neighborhood. You can resist your nature yet you do so at your own risk to your mental health.

Log on to my Twitter account that I link to on the right and you will see that the latest news touts the link between creativity and schizophrenia. There is proof now that people with schizophrenia tend to be more creative than other people. A reference was made to Dali who was eccentric.

This accounts for my love of the unusual music and clothes when I was younger. It lets slip that maybe you could think you're different precisely because you are different in some important ways starting with your D2 receptor.

This solidifies my dream of wanting to publish fiction and be a writer not a social worker in the coming years. Look for a SharePost at the Connection on this topic of creativity and schizophrenia to post in early July for some summer reading.

D. told me once: "We have a different way of seeing things" and I have no doubt this is true. It comes down to how information flows through our brains and how we process it and synthesize it and turn it back out to solve problems.

The more you educate yourself the better you will feel about your prospects living with SZ. That's how I see it because reading about this link allowed me to once and for all resolve that hey: it's okay to be different.

For too long first coming up in recovery I was in denial that I could be sick because I was embarrassed to have schizophrenia. I felt guilty and ashamed because there was a negative connotation to someone diagnosed with this condition.

Only now: I see that there can be no shame when you live true to yourself.

So I urge you to reconsider everything you think you know about what it's like to live with schizophrenia. Define yourself. Decide how you want to live and hold your hope up as a lantern on the long road ahead.

Recovery is about the journey not the destination. Be where you are now. Know that tomorrow you could be in a different place. Nothing in life is permanent. You can rest easy knowing that you can trust yourself to be your own rock.

So express yourself. Be creative. Be yourself.

Just be.

Cooking

2010-05-28T18:57:00.004-04:00

Twitter is like a new toy.

I much prefer it to Facebook right now although early in the new year I expect to have a Facebook fan page.

The short nature of Tweets I love to sprint through. I follow Real Simple magazine and download their recipes that way. The turkey salad with tomato, avocado and parmesan I'm going to try next weekend. It looks easy and healthful.

Another recipe I'd like to create is a caprese salad with fresh mozzarella and heirloom tomatoes. It's from the Mario Batali cookbook Molto Gusto. This would be good for lunch some day.

I have the opposite problem of most people with SZ: I don't feel like eating. I was lucky the Geodon worked. Tonight I ordered vegetables for dinner: imagine that.

This is the life: I can't wonder what might have been. You do the best you can with what you're given. Strive to do one thing each day to bring you closer to a goal.

You can get there from here. You just need to believe it's possible.

Always do the things that give you joy.

I found an interesting book on fashion called Style from A to Zoe. It was written by Rachel Zoe a stylist to celebrities. She is entirely too much yet the book gives some good advice so I ordered it from an independent bookshop to buy and keep in my own library.

Along with the fashion spin I want to resurrect Recipe Night once a week. The Mario Batali cookbook includes recipes for pizza that I want to try too.

Folks: I took down the Nelson Mandala quote and all the other clutter on JM to give it a more Zen appearance though of course it's not quite Zen or peaceful there's most likely an energy here. To simplify I added a short link to my Twitter account and deleted the GoodReads sidebar.

This blog is evolving as I go along so I hope you enjoy the ride.

The earrings arrived in the mail and I like them so I'm going to wear them tomorrow when I go to the Thai restaurant. I'm totally off the wall in my love of jewelry so I've put the caboose on my spending. For now. It's too much. This is what will happen come a joyous April 15.

I had this talk with someone: how doing good and making money can go together like a washing machine and Tide. We believe changing the world can be an activity that is an economic engine. That's the premise of Fair Trade and locally owned cooperatives in a place like Africa. The example I will give you is the hand woven basket that a woman in Ghana created that I bought at the holiday fair in the City.

We spoke of how people with mental illnesses have for too long been victimized in society. Along with that I know someone who steals fruit because he can't afford to buy it on his SSD check. Where's the justice? It is time to change things.

This is why I would not ever feel threatened by a peer who wanted to change her life for the better and took action to make that happen. People can and do have the right to bring themselves up in the world. You are not a sell out when you dare to go down this road. I only wish more people had this courage to challenge the status quo.

Does this matter to me? You bet it matters to me. If you can't afford fruit what kind of a life is that? Nobody diagnosed with a mental illness deserves the abuse she gets either.

The guy I spoke with told me a story. It steamed me and it upset him so we had to change the topic. All I can tell you is this: people with schizophrenia are more likely to be the victims of crime not the ones who commit crimes.

So when I go off-topic and talk about my interests and hobbies it is because they are important to me too. I would not be the same person had I not been diagnosed with schizophrenia. First you're angry. Then you get even. By taking your meds you show the schizophrenia who's the boss.

It's a power thing really: that's the bottom line. People with mental illnesses traditionally have been rendered powerless to have a say in their own lives. We take back control by envisioning the kind of life we want to live and doing one thing each day to move towards getting there.

Most people can recover from schizophrenia. At this point the question becomes: how big our sky?

In seventh grade there was a question in my science textbook that asked: "How far is up?" It occurred to me right then that up is as far as you can go.

In other words: shoot for the stars because you can always settle for the moon.

There's no shame in striving to better yourself. As a friend told me: "Your dreams are not dirty: they're natural and they're normal."

To those about to dream I salute you.

Do you see? Do you see what I'm saying?

It is 12:15 am by my computer clock and I fear I'm going to be up all night if I continue this blog entry.

Surely you understand? I hope so.

Now let me go sign off and wind down.

Cheers.

Hola

2010-05-27T07:56:00.002-04:00

Good morning.

I've read a book that I want to recommend: The Everything Health Guide to Schizophrenia. It's billed as the latest information on treatment, medication, and coping strategies. Chapters detail warning signs, symptoms, causes, types of schizophrenia, treatment options, medication, what you can do to aid recovery and success stories. It is under 300 pages and the size of a small hardbound journal. It is one of the most practical and hopeful guides that I've read about this medical condition.

You can read it at home. You can take it on the train. You can read it waiting in your psychiatrist's office. It's supposed to be for caregivers yet don't let that dissuade you from reading the book as it is equally useful for those of us diagnosed with SZ.

The author is Dean A. Haycock PhD. He talks about cognitive therapy too. The Chapter on What You Can Do to Aid Recovery is helpful for caregivers and provides clear advice for helping your loved one set goals and rise above the stigma that exists even today.

It really is a caregiver's book however I wouldn't rule out reading it yourself or recommending it to someone who does have a loved one diagnosed with schizophrenia. It's a useful first guide to helping your loved one or helping yourself.

______________________________

I have been up since the early morning light.

I've decided to focus in JM on the schizophrenia with a twist: do it in my own way.

One thing I've talked with another woman about is the need to develop friendships when you have SZ. That seems so simple. I would also recommend volunteer work or paid employment or going to school to educate yourself so you can get a job or for self-improvement. It was said that people diagnosed with this condition need job coaches who can help them navigate the world of work. Truly I had to do this on my own because at the time I obtained my first job I had no support and no friends who were also working at a full-time job.

So friendships become the first line of defense in living with SZ and you branch out to volunteer work or work or school. I also cannot stress the benefit of living independently if you can function well enough to do this. In The Everything Health Guide to Schizophrenia it suggested you set goals that enable you to function like taking showers or cooking dinner.

Only a car goes from 0 to 60 in three seconds. I know from firsthand experience that in the early years of your recovery you will often make modest gains not achieve daring feats. You will not go from 0 to 60 in your recovery within three months or even three years. I would tell you to give yourself the gift of a lifetime in which to recover.

I can tell you this because it took me 20 years to get to this point. So I urge you to keep hopeful. I do believe things get better with time. In April 2007 I started taking the Geodon and within three days I noticed a great improvement and three years later I had better results.

So you start out with the premise that recovery is not quick and it is not easy. I've outlined my ideas about the process of setting three-year treatment goals in a SharePost at SchizophreniaConnection. I feel three years is an ideal time frame for this kind of thing. Some goals will take longer and others you will achieve sooner yet three years is realistic and generous for most goals if you ask me. Always attach a completion date to a goal and know that this date can be changed in the future if you approach it without any success.

Here's the link to setting treatment goals: http://www.healthcentral.com/schizophrenia/c/120/30496/treatment and the one to measuring recovery gains: http://www.healthcentral.com/schizophrenia/c/120/37007/measuring.

Even though the woman quibbled about how friendships are given the most importance as a tool for recovering from schizophrenia I believe this is at least the second most important tool. The first order of the day after you are diagnosed with schizophrenia is to boost your functioning. My number-one tool for recovery was finding the job I love and I recommend this to you as a possible treatment goal that will change your life dramatically.

This is about all I want to write about right now as I have to attend to things in the apartment.

One last thing I will say: I find it interesting how the Sundance catalog markets its products. I bought a brass ring called a camaraderie ring because it was supposed to signify eternal friendship. Really I bought it because it has a satin finish and will complement the Banana Republic brass tone necklace I bought last year. The ring has two bands and luckily when it arrived I tried it on and it fit.

I admit it: the marketing strategy pulled me in.

This Sunday I'm going on a picnic and will wear the ring.

So I'm going to close out here by suggesting you reach out to other people and risk rejection.

There is someone out there for you.

Happy

2010-05-23T03:38:00.003-04:00

Good morning.

You'll see I've attached a Nelson Mandela quote as the header of this blog.

I feel there can be no shame in living with schizophrenia. No hesitancy to trumpet our lives. That's where the PR starts. Our stories are worth telling because we lived them.

I'm reminded of men in business who think the world revolves around them and who think they're supremely important people. Why can't people diagnosed with schizophrenia and other mental illnesses feel good about themselves too?

It's hard when the stigma is alive and kicking. To that I say the best defense is to "be brave and live your life."

Elanor Roosevelt is quoted: "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

So I would tell you not to give stigma any weight. It will only serve to limit your perception of what you can do if you carry the stigma with you wherever you go.

I'm not saying it's easy to give stigma the boot. I found out the hard way when I discontinued the Stelazine and had to be hospitalized again.

The true cost of stigma can't be measured however it indirectly influences so much: whether a person seeks help and whether she feels she's capable of striving for something better.

______________________________

The cost of success is that sometimes living with schizophrenia can be painful. When you have the insight that you are different it can be painful to realize. I'm aware that the price of beauty can be pain.

I dedicate this blog entry to everyone who has fought so valiantly to achieve their goals.

Right now I'm not sure what the answer is only I remember the expression: "when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping." I have been engaging in retail therapy like there's no end in sight.

I doubt I will ever not care how I look because the truth is I want to be taken seriously. So you will find me planning my outfits and coordinating jewelry to match my outfits.

I can't say this doesn't matter to me because it does.

Also: I treated a friend to dinner for his birthday. We ate in the Spanish restaurant.

That is the answer: to do the things that give you joy.

To understand that sometimes what goes on is all in your head. When the reality of what's really going on contradicts the scenario you envisioned that is when life is painful. It is when you realize that you have schizophrenia and this will always be true.

So you walk in the neighborhood where you pop into the Tibetan store and you buy a ring that is a round clear green stone encircled by silver.

You realize that soon your money will run out.

Until then you can hope that someday it will be better.

You are not alone. Surely you are not alone.

Another day dawns.

A day to rejoice and be glad that God has given you this day.

So you live your life you love your life.

Happy.

Rebel

2010-05-21T08:23:00.003-04:00

This is the day: today. We have only one day. Today. It's the only day that matters.

The concept of spring cleaning resonates with me now. I have a pile of folded pants and jeans on the floor next to my bed waiting to be steamed free of wrinkles. The winter comforter was replaced with the Asian floral bed spread and matching shams.

It is supposed to be 82 degrees today. I wear a long brown skirt, white tee shirt with rosettes, and a tiny brown cardigan. The John Hardy style ring. The new matte oval earrings I bought in Boston.

Already: I would like to not wear the boyfriend jeans outside of the apartment. They have tears in them the intended effect yet suddenly I feel like a slob wearing them in public. Which will happen when you wear them with a tee shirt.

Do you see?

It is time to retire the jeans and the black cropped jeans. I can wear them inside with my creativity tee shirt when I'm doing my writing. I call the tee shirt my creativity tee shirt because it is taxi cab yellow and has a taxi on the front and in the back it lists the charges for a ride in a New York City cab. To me that kind of yellow is a creative color. Thus I wear the tee shirt to be inspired to write.

The memories will always creep in: how you seem normal yet your mind is tearing, slowly, your sanity the perforated edge. You will remember everything that happened for as long as you live.

The time has come to let go and let life tell you what you are supposed to do.

Even now: another memory. You cannot divest yourself of the memories just yet.

Does it matter? Yes it does: I could masquerade as a normal person while inside my mind I was not well.

Do you need proof? Read my memoir, Left of the Dial, when it's published. You will see the song remains: the after tune as I near however remotely my crone or wise woman years.

When all else fails: lipstick.

I bought myself a tube from the MAC store: Rebel.

Tomorrow I wear my contact lenses and the rebel lipstick. A sign: I live my life left of the dial.

You are young.

The music matters.

The clothes are all you have.

I remember the summer of sadness when I realized that life was gone: the record had ended and the needle returned to its place.

Now I listen to Matt Pinfield spin music on a Saturday night. You can hear him streaming live on 1019RXP.com from eight to midnight too. He might even play your request.

Another lipstick I like is Viva Glam 3 and I might go back for that when one of the lipsticks I own now is done with. I bought the C3 Studio Fix foundation compact with the gift card C. gave me for my birthday.

So tomorrow I get dolled up to go out.

It seems irrefutable: you can recover from schizophrenia. Most people do.

I take nothing for granted. I live knowing that the tide could turn again. I do everything possible to live life well while I'm fortunate enough to have this life.

You are given only one day: today. The future will take care of itself. You must live for today.

Only this matters: to cheer people while you're here.

Am I a rebel? Possibly. I have a different way of looking at things. Long ago I went down a road that most people diagnosed with schizophrenia would not go down. That made all the difference.

To quote Lorene Carey: when there is no road you make a road. Do I remember this quote right? We learn by going where we have to go.

I will always hold out the hope that people living with schizophrenia can do well. Make no mistake about it I didn't choose this life: it was the life given to me. It is not entirely my own to do with as I please.

Only this is how I succeeded: I will tell you this secret: I was a rebel. I rebelled the life that was expected of someone in my situation.

I hope by reading this blog you are so inspired to dream.

Now I will go sign off.

Enjoy your night.

Worth Our Salt

2010-05-19T09:31:00.004-04:00

Good morning.

I realize I haven't written in here in a while. I debate taking down the blogs altogether unless I can find topics for 30 blogs and write them out and then type them as I go along.

The debate is whether to be vocal as I know I will have critics. What can I tell you? I'm not a fan of peer-run respite care because I feel peers should be paid what they're worth and right now most peer advocates are paid minimum wage. When did it become acceptable to cut costs by paying peers minimum wage? Other professionals wouldn't dare be paid $7.60 per hour: they would draw a salary commensurate with their training and experience.

So when people say peer-run respite care will save millions of dollars I wonder if that's the best way to curb the rising cost of mental health care. For one: the U.S. government should regulate the price of prescription drugs. Nobody taking an atypical should have to pay hundreds of dollars a month on her drugs. This is the true inflated cost that causes mental health treatment to reach in the billions. The second reason for this figure is the revolving door syndrome: where peers revolve in and out of the hospital because they fail to take their medication. The cost of untreated mental illness in the form of people getting tossed in jail is another huge indirect cost of mental health care.

Now you see. Don't tell me that the cost of an inpatient hospital stay accounts for the bulk of fiscal mismanagement when it comes to treating people diagnosed with mental illnesses.

Pay peers what they're worth and not a penny less. That's the way I see it.

I'm not proud that other professionals tout the minimum wage of peers as the greatest cost-saving device in mental health care. This reinforces the stigma that prevents us from being given an equal role in society.

Besides everyone knows there are psychiatrists and MSWs who aren't worth their salt so until peers are paid equally I don't think we should accept minimum wage if we are worth our salt as advocates.

There. You see.

A wise woman told me the other day: "Don't be yourself for other people, be yourself for you." As in: help yourself first. There's a knee-jerk reaction that people who have recovered must become peer advocates. I will tell you: do what you want to do not what other people tell you to do. There's a job out there for you and it might not be as a peer advocate.

The dilemma with a peer being paid minimum wage to be an advocate is that she becomes a member of the working poor.

The solution is to be paid what we're worth as advocates.

Comments?

3:21 P.M.

2010-05-15T15:22:00.002-04:00

Hello.

Right now I'm working on the manuscript and attending to selling the memoir to a publisher so I have to keep what I do under wraps except to let you know the publication date so that you can go to the bookstore and buy Left of the Dial.

I"m reading a heartbreaking yet hopeful memoir Keeping the Feast written by Paula Buttarini. She is an Italian American woman who used food to heal. She lived in Rome and walked to the Campo Dei Fiori to buy fresh fruits and vegetables and bread every day. The name is Field of Flowers in English.

My Italian is rusty so I would like to buy the Rosetta Stone software and get back up to speed. I studied the language as a young woman and used to be fluent.

When I traveled to Italy I spoke it well enough to talk with the waiters and shopkeepers and open air market vendors. I bought at the flea market in Sienna a napkin holder for the equivalent of $5. Quanto costa? Cinque lire.

News: I have decided to go back to school for an MFA when I'm 55 and publish fiction. The MSW is not the option I choose to pursue right now.

Things are rolling along with the memoir.

I have a Twitter account: ChristinaBruni and I post my SchizophreniaConnection blog entries there so do surf over I'd love you to read what I write. Today I post the Mental Health Awareness Month SharePost. It will be uploaded about seven o'clock tonight.

This is all I can give you right now.

I went to the new salon for a haircut and it was hot hot hot outside so I have no energy to continue writing in here. The apartment is cooler yet I'm not going to bumble about Joyful Music with no destination in mind.

Have a Happy Day!

Wear Your Love Like Heaven

2010-04-25T15:04:00.003-04:00

I'm 45 now.

I placed a photo on the clip frame on my desk. It's a silver ball base with a wire clip that rises up from the ball to clip a photo on. I bought it in a museum gift shop. In the photo I wear my true navy floral raincoat and a friend wears a black raincoat with white dashes. We look like twins.

It will take at least a week to hear back the review of the manuscript.

I've been researching ways to promote the memoir in advance of its publication via social media tools like Twitter and Facebook. I will shortly have a Facebook fan page.

A wise woman guide told us that the key to using such accounts is transparency. That is when I realized I could no longer hide the truth of my diagnosis any more than I could cut off my right arm. Certainly I could be honest and open about this in the same way Elyn Saks is and deal with any repercussions down the road when I consider the kind of work I want to do.

The litmus test is that living an authentic life and speaking in my own voice is something I do for the greater good. You also cannot live by the what's in it for me ethic in the online age. The goal is to provide content for others to make their lives easier or help them with their own goals. Only then will they be able to help you.

This blog entry I dedicate to all the ladies out there who wonder if they should cross that line in the sand. I know why I do this: the cost of untreated mental illness is a great shame to society and is measured not only in billions of dollars but in millions of wasted lives. That is the greater sadness to me and why I do what I do.

You must compete against yourself and no one else.

I want to be a fireball igniting other people's dreams.

Do you think I have a big ego in this regard?

Well: you had to peel the other patients off the wall to get them to come out into the courtyard. A wallpaper life benefits no one. I coveted the blue sky freedom.

OK: I'm Sicilian and Calabrese so I'm a double teste dura-a real hard head. I'm stubborn: I'm convinced that if something worked for me it could work for other people. So I seek to enlighten people as much as inspire them. My life is the living laboratory in which to test what works and what doesn't. When I see I've had success with something I'm willing to use my experiences as material for SharePosts and magazine articles.

There. That doesn't seem so egotistical now does it? It seems downright altruistic. I want to be part of the solution not part of the problem of the stigma in the world. To show that it's cool to achieve things. To make living with SZ almost hip. That is how I submit I can best fight the stigma. I told a roving reporter that the best way to fight stigma is "To be brave and be yourself."

If memory serves a slogan from the sixties was: wear your love like heaven. Am I imagining that? The love you take is equal to the love you make. You must give the world the best you have. I also believe that having SZ hopefully makes a person more compassionate. I recognize there's a double standard: at all times I have to appear trustworthy because of the diagnosis and I cannot slip. The burden of the proof of my humanity is on me every day. That being so my ethic is a humanitarian one.

So. You see. It has nothing to do with ego.

I decided long ago [after years of grappling with the diagnosis] that rather than resent what happened to me I would turn things around and truly make it hip.

How now.

Exactly.

Cool

2010-04-22T19:32:00.011-04:00

Hello.

I'm working with a creativity coach to update the blog.

I'm reminded of the quote on a dessert plate that featured a fortune cookie: You Think It's A Secret But It's Not.

Certainly altruism isn't a dirty word: if Lauren Bush the model can be an activist I find nothing unusual about ordinary people seeking to change the world.

The handwritten sign found on the wall of Mother Teresa's room tells it all:

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered; forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; be successful anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; be honest and frank anway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, others may be jealous; be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will forget tomorrow; do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough; give your best anyway.

For you see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.

That manifesto I placed on my desk in one of those black metal frames.

I'm sure mother Teresa only did what she felt was right not what the world thought was right. The poor were her version of a target market. She gave no credence to others who would give up on the neediest members of society.

Not everyone comes to altruism as a life ethic. Others drive BMWs and live in mansions. A life I would not be comfortable living.

Sure: you're young and your brother has a BMW and it's the coolest thing to you. A friend envisions you as the editor of a magazine zipping through the countryside in a convertible. You told this friend she would make a good food editor although the dream would not come true for her and yours would be only that: a dream.

Life goes on.

You turn 45. You realize that Mother Teresa had it right. You tango with today because you danced with your demons early on and they are gone. Another era of your life is gone again.

So you cherish what you have even when it seems you don't have much. You don't need much to be happy: your apartment a computer and a radio. Music sweet music is the soundtrack of your life.

What a life it has been: you can't say it's been like angels on toast yet you're satisfied with how things turned out. You will not grace the society pages of Town & Country and that is OK. You will not be some high-powered someone.

Most days you feel lucky just to be alive and other days you wonder if that is all that really matters: you're alive. You tell yourself it does matter.

You remember that Louis Pasteur is quoted: "chance favors the prepared mind" because you don't believe in luck. A friend wants to brass knuckle any clown who tells her you were lucky.

So you believe the best is yet to be. You realize in only one important way you are lucky: the medication worked as soon as you were placed on it. You know that this gives you the duty to help other people recover. You believe altruism is cool.

Like Mother Teresa I don't place my faith in people who are negative or try to bring others down. You need a certain kind of Teflon to weather the slings and arrows. I understand other people will question my motives and that is OK.

I hope to publish the memoir in due season.

When I wrote it I wanted to tell a good story first of all. I wanted to leave a doubt in the readers mind about how it was possible I have schizophrenia.

Also: I wrote the memoir in the vein of literary nonfiction so it differs from the other SZ memoirs out there. As I re-read the manuscript I kept seeing new facets or devices that were effective. The voice of a book is everything.

It took me a year-and-a-half to find a literary agent who wants to work with me. She got it about the premise of my memoir: healing through creativity.

So look to see this blog take off in a different direction and also for light reading surf on over to Absolute Rouge.

I'll end here by telling you that you have to believe that something is possible. I understand that you might waver in your confidence. I like the Adidas marquee slogan: Impossible is nothing. It hints that doing the impossible is an ordinary thing.

So you need to reach higher every day because recovery is not only possible today it is probable.

Recovery is cool.

Just Do It.

To Dare Greatly

2010-04-03T19:06:00.003-04:00

Hello.

I wanted to move in another direction:

I've decided to get a diploma in image consulting. This is a dream of mine I want to accomplish more than anything.

This month I'm working on writing projects.

In the fall I give a talk at a mental health conference. This will be something to put on a resume. I wish I could be a motivational speaker full-time alas publishing the books takes priority now.

In May I will be doing research for the second book and I want to have the bulk of another chapter complete by June 1st.

This writing life is my fate: I was born to write.

This reminds me of the slogan: that some women were born to shop. I ordered a pair of green jeans and a pair of white jeans and a spring jacket.

It is my great dream to study to become an image consultant.

Life will continue. What a good life it can be.

I still feel days later that the goal is self-improvement.

You must take it when you're given the chance.

I have this conversation with another woman often.

How I would do volunteer work if I couldn't work.

Though it didn't cross my mind to give up because I wanted to win. Once I worked in an office and I told the guy I worked for that I played to win. He said, "So you think winning is everything?" He didn't understand: to me there is no halfway effort.

That is because I have schizophrenia and I had an extra hurdle to clear. God gives us these hurdles. We emerge stronger on the other side.

You don't understand? Don't take my word for it. Take Theodore Roosevelt's:

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."

The quote has stayed with me since 1987 when my management professor in college gave all the students in his class that quote on a wallet card.

Some things you take with you throughout your life like the Theodore Roosevelt quote. They leave an indelible impression.

In recovery as in life there are no guarantees. You do the best you can knowing your best will change from day to day.

I've read that upwards of 75 percent of the people diagnosed with schizophrenia want to work. In a Boston University study of sustained employment among people with psychiatric conditions diagnosis had no bearing on a person's ability to do a job.

The changes might come slowly. Piano piano. I want to use my talents to help other people recover. That to me is the greatest good I could do in this lifetime.

How now:

I will use my background in image consulting to help peers look for work clothes when they go on interviews and find jobs.

I would tell anyone that the prime reason I recovered is that I found the careers I love.

Now then:

I abhor learned helplessness.

No counselor or therapist or professional should ever dissuade their clients from taking a risk to achieve a goal. I was lucky no one I worked with ever told me I couldn't do what I wanted to do. I would consider that to be unethical. It might take longer or you might have to come at it a different way yet always a dream is within reach when it's modest and realistic.

Of course you might ask: define modest. define realistic. I grant you that. It varies for each person setting her own particular goal.

I want to be a change agent in the world. I know that by going to work I reduced the impact of my disability. You can't argue with that. People with schizophrenia and other mental illnesses can take action to live well considering they have a diagnosis.

It begins with the desire to do this.

Quite simply I hope I can inspire others to desire to set goals and make positive changes.

To light their fire.

I will end here because this is the only way I can end this blog entry.

I have such hopes for everyone on earth.

Goodnight.

Hope

2010-03-13T14:17:00.003-05:00

Hope springs on this rainy day. The kind of hope that is rational. What kind of hope?

That the price of not doing your art is greater than the cost of doing it and not getting recognition. Mondrian-considered the father of modern art-had to paint flowers to earn money because fame eluded him while he was alive.

A friend called me an artist today and itemized scenarios about what could happen:
I could get married before my books are published. I could become a social worker first and be an expert like Kay Redfield Jamison. I could obtain fame through my fiction.

I understood in the quick of the time of this conversation that an artist must create her whole life long things of beauty that give her and hopefully others joy.

In one week I begin a painting.

From here on in I work on my second book. It is 115 pages and next week I will add five pages to the fourth chapter.

Life goes on. It always does.

So you do your art because it makes you happy.

You do not quit. You keep positive.

I do all of this: write and paint and decorate and fashion a look of beauty.

Living well is the best revenge.

Dressing well is the best defense.

It is time to let go and let life.

You must live with the uncertainty.

You must trust that the seeds you plant will bear fruit in due season.

You must do your art.

That is what it comes down to: like the Madonna song you must "Express Yourself." Do the things that give you joy. Live passionate.

One day you might be gone and the world will find:

a notebook or a sketch or a painting or a manuscript.

You keep these things first of all for your own enjoyment.

You do this so that you can recover or that you can live your life.

Recognition is secondary.

Only I covet recognition so that is my downfall. I must strip away this protective cover and remember: I do these things because I must regardless of whether I meet with other people's approval.

No I will not quit. This is my story. I share it with you in the hope that you will be inspired to risk dreaming of a better life.

I hope it is sunny and warm where you are. I hope you are keeping dry.

Will go sign off now and attend to a writing project.

Cheers.

p.s. -

Did I know when I graduated school that just four years later I would become a freelance writer? Did I know when I was diagnosed 23 years ago that this is how my life would turn out? Of course not. So there is always hope even when you can't see the light at the end of the road. Hope springs eternal. The secret is to trust yourself to keep taking action because if you keep taking action you surely will succeed.

Just believe.

Rainy Day Melody

2010-03-13T09:01:00.003-05:00

Last night:

I bought a tube of Mat10 Sephora lipstick to replace the old one. I needed the courage to face Dr. Altman. I told him I want to go back to school and I feared employers wouldn't hire me if they found out I had SZ. I said that at some point I would take down my web site.

To this he answered: "You have done remarkable. I wouldn't be so quick to discard that. You are a role model." He said I have time before I decide whether I apply to grad school.

As I rode home I wondered: could I get an MFA instead? We shall see what I do. I have nine years until it's time to make the move.

The caption to the clock tower in the photo for this week's entries in the appointment book reads: Time keeps bending on me here. Such is Tuscany.

In the rest of the world I'm reminded of Julie Morgenstern's comparison of the hours in a day to the contents of a closet. You can fit only so many items of clothing in a closet and there are only so many hours in a day in which to do things.

I've decided to break each day into zones like she suggests and schedule my activities so I can wind down by nine o'clock at night.

Listen: I know others who are getting degrees. All is not lost should I want to go back to school. I do not have to decide now. I realize my life could turn on a dime and things could happen quickly in the next nine years that will give me an idea as to what I'm able to do then.

So leading up to that next era I keep a cool head and keep my eye on the prize: publishing my two books. Everything hinges on publishing those books.

That is all I can do: only what I can do right now to attract a literary agent. I do not have a gimmick however I do have a platform which is what you need to sell a book.

Breaking my time into zones will help me be more productive. You can read Julie Morgenstern's book Time Management From the Inside-Out [the updated version] to get an idea about what she's talking about. I might just check it out of the library to read as a refresher.

I've been in recovery 23 years so I'm in my third decade living with the SZ. As you move along you have to be proactive and shift your focus as new challenges arise. That is what I'm doing now.

It gets better as the years roll along. Keep hopeful. I'm going to keep the faith that when the time comes I will make the right decision about school.

That's about all I have to tell you today.

You see: I can entertain these possibilities because I committed to taking the medication every day as prescribed. I will not take the risk to go off the meds again. That's the way I see it: I can link cause-and-effect when it comes to the things I'm capable of doing.

So I urge you: choose to stay on your meds.

Choose life.

Dance of Life

2010-03-11T17:05:00.005-05:00

You move through your life treading water at times. One day is not like any other. You sit at the bar at Starbuck's eating a chicken and vegetable wrap with your mind in a tailspin as you stare out the window.

You remember you can't hold your breath waiting for your turn and so you do everything possible to make it your turn soon. You plan only three weeks in advance. You tango with your demons until the song ends. One day the song will end.

Life goes on. As it always does. The memories are dimmer now. You regard them with a kind and distant eye. What could you tell others? Your standards are so high that you don't consider yourself to have recovered until 10 years later when you went to grad school.

Everything leading to this moment was the prelude. You have only this moment. You hope to have other moments that are good too. Only now you cannot plan for the future. One day is all you have. A day that is not always happy as far as days go.

_______________________

I have decided to make some changes that have been a long time coming.

Changing the nature of Joyful Music while keeping true to its roots is one of the changes I finesse. You cannot remain stuck in an outdated life. I wonder if elements of my natal chart suggest my tendency to be the first to initiate new modes of communication. I have Mercury in Aries. Is that the reason I'm not content to rest on my laurels? I always seek the next big challenge it seems and lead the way for others to follow.

I wonder. What's next? A person's life could turn on a dime. One must keep tune to the new music. She must leave the era before the era leaves her.

It is spring in one week. Hooray spring!

The jeans Mom bought me from Wal Mart are dark railroad stripe jeans so now I have two pairs of this kind of jeans. The khaki pants she gave me I'm not enamored of however I like the railroad stripe pair. You accept that your mother wants to buy you clothes and indulge her this treat though you don't understand it and would rather not encourage her. You do it because she is your mother and she loves you.

The spring beckons. A beautiful time of year. A new season of your life.

You decide you will dress in the new jeans and tango like a wild woman.

Walk the Line

2010-03-07T09:42:00.002-05:00

Tonight:

I talk to R. about how to continue in light of my goal of going back to school.

Peers are not paid well as peer advocates and I cannot afford to be linked in an employer's mind as someone who is a peer or else I'll ruin my chances of a professional career where I'm judged on my own merit. This is the reality folks.

I do what I do now because as a writer I need a platform in order to be able to sell my books to a publisher. I'm not going to give up on selling my memoir and the second book. I feel strongly that I deserve to publish these books. I feel that hell-and-heartache stories are given favorable press-and if other people can publish such memoirs why can't I publish mine? So I will not back down and will not give up on my dream of getting published.

The thing is: I'm not some curiosity to be taken out of a cabinet and put on display. I resist having other people tell me "You've done very well for someone who has schizophrenia." This is the truth at the end of the day however it gives me no comfort. I risked global disclosure because that is what I had to do to develop a platform to sell my books. I took this risk because it mattered to me that I couldn't remain silent. So we will see whether this comes back to haunt me in 10 years when I go back to school.

A friend admired me because it seemed to her I could be open and honest and people accepted me anyhow. This is all an illusion I realize because things could change.

I walk the line every day.

I'm not naive. So I talk to this guy tonight to ask him how he thinks I can approach my future goals. I will listen to what he has to say and accept his prognosis. It might turn out that doors are closed for me. I'm reminded that I'm not immune from discrimination. So I will have to be careful because of the tendency of employers to a priori eliminate the competition. I will have to do what it takes to sell myself without a shadow of a doubt raised in their minds.

That is all I can tell you now because I have no hope as I write this.

Wish me good luck because I'll certainly need it.

Ciao.

Well Well Well

2010-03-06T21:56:00.002-05:00

This is just to say that this blog is under construction.

I have created a new blog, http://modgirl3.blogspot.com in which I'm going to take a new turn. Joyful Music will be about the SZ and about living life related to this diagnosis.

The new blog I hope to carry with me into my life as a fiction writer in the future.

Always possibilities beckon. Real life is the crucible for testing ideas.

You must be proactive when change is required and meet the challenge head on.

This is all a testing of some kind. I cannot tell you now that I will definitely go back to school however I want to keep this option open so I will need to shift course in the coming years.

It all starts today.

I've provided a link to my new blog in the links column.

Do surf over and join me if you'd like.

Goodnight.

An Idea of Spring

2010-03-04T18:22:00.003-05:00

Greetings.

A friend suggested I remember that editors placed my memoir in the league of The Bell Jar. So I do that now. I knew by the time I was seven years old I wanted to be a writer. I'm a memoirist second. I trust that my claim to fame is not that I have schizophrenia. I can be famous for other things.

Like my neat streak.

I have another bag of just clothes to send to the Salvation Army.

With spring coming in just over two weeks I'm cleaning house now.

Soon I can replace the comforter with the Asian toile bedspread. I saw a great graphic duvet cover in the CB2 catalog that I wish I could get only I don't have the room to store more bedsheets. It was the Urban Mandala. I liked it though.

Already I'm bored with the pink-and-purple floral comforter.

I'm reminded of an advertisement in a magazine where a fashionably dressed woman wears a gold necklace at a gathering of people around a coffee table.

I feel it is time to move forward and that is why I clean house: I clear out items to bring into my life new things.

Spring will come not a moment too soon. Hopefully the weather will rise into the 50s in March and April round here. I would love for it to be in the 60s in April so I hope for this dream to come true.

My question is: what exactly is a duvet and what does a duvet cover cover? A white comforter underneath? Hmm. One thing I want to do next year: use the crimson throw as an additional layer rather than the beige snuggly my mother gave me.

I don't wear that darn thing I use it as a blanket on the bed on top of the comforter. And since it's been a long cold winter I'm tired already of seeing that snuggly. In two weeks it will be history: I'll store it on the top shelf of one of the closets. Enough already with the snuggly.

Well: tonight it's history I'm not going to wait. I would love to donate the snuggly to the Salvation Army only my mother gave it to me and she inquires as to whether I use it. I will keep it through this season and then in the fall see about chucking it. A beige snuggly is the nadir of fashion. It would be another story if the snuggly were pink or blue. Not beige. That is the absolute absolute end of everything.

Out out it goes. Tonight. I don't care how cheap it cost that's besides the point.

I can always do this next winter: use the throw under the comforter as an extra layer to keep the top of the bed looking colorful. Honest to God not that snuggly. Not another year with the snuggly.

With all due respect to the genius who invented this product. It's just not for me. If you invented the snuggly and are reading this blog [doubtful though] I want to tell you I'm sure you have millions of satisfied customers around the globe or wherever it's sold. Surely some person without heat in their apartment would enjoy the snuggly if I donated it to the Salvation Army. I have gotten good use out of your product in the time I used it. Please don't suggest I buy a replacement. It's a wonderful product you see I'm just a fashion snob.

My mother has one in mint green. She loves it. So there you go.

______________________________

It's spring in two weeks.

A week later I sign up with Organization by Design for a virtual consultation. The fee for the stylist who comes to your apartment was misquoted and I can't afford her now. So it's back to my original plan: I have seven photos I can e-mail the consultant so she can get an idea about what to tell me. I will have her phone me in the first week in April to go over the suggestions she's come up with for my wardrobe.

This is not frivolous. It matters to me.

At some point I might have to take down this blog and create a new one devoted solely to music and fashion and the other passions of life. Employers Google you to see if they want to call you in for an interview. They use the information they find to rule you out as a candidate. You have to be careful what's out there. I could be denied a job because of this.

When that day comes I will send out one last blog entry here with a link to my new blog before I take this one down to alert loyal readers. Other than that I cannot continue to blog on the Internet in the future.

A friend and I talked about this: how you cannot disclose to employers and organizations you want to do volunteer work for. You're still on shaky ground even though you've been in remission or recovery and even if you've been in remission 18 years like I have you can still be disqualified.

So at some point I take down this blog and replace it with an SZ free blog.

That day might come sometime soon. We shall see what I do and when I do it. Possibly I'll have two blogs going at once right now and then later shut down this one. I'll see.

I'm going to leave you to enjoy your day or night or whatever time it is now.

Tootles.

SOS

2010-02-28T13:00:00.003-05:00

Last night I was stirred not shaken like a mixed-up martini when I realized I have a ton of clothes.

I've decided to bring another bag to the Salvation Army-this time a bag solely of clothes. You see: I use the stylist to guide me in the direction of my future wardrobe. So I begin over the next five years to discard what no longer works.

On the chopping block: an ivory GAP long cable-knit cardigan and a red cotton turtleneck and a black turtleneck with red-and-white stripes. This last item reminds me of a sweater I had for a number of years that I bought at the Limited. Parting is such sweet sorrow. I will also donate to Sal's one of the three black wool sweaters I bought in Benetton that I rarely wear now. Also the Ann Taylor bamboo-print shell and skirt that I told myself I would hold on to just in case I needed it. Chances are the opportunity to wear it will not come up any time soon.

The jeans I did buy and I hope they fit as they are measured by your waist not your regular size. I saw a pair of midnight navy denim flare pants that I also want to buy as well. The stylist can help me find a pair of white pants.

It feels like some kind of shaky reality.

The truth is this winter it was incredibly cold more so than usual and it snowed often so I could not wear some of the sweaters I have. Two are lighter weight cardigans. I also did not wear the other sweaters. The sheer amount of stuff is unbelievable. I have no recourse but to get rid of some things to assuage myself that I'm not tied to my things.

This coming week it's supposed to be in the 40s so I wear some sweaters I haven't worn all winter and I wear the cashmere long sleeve tee shirts on their own without a jacket.

This is true: when I was in high school I browsed the FIT course bulletin because I thought I might go to school there. It was a passing fancy yet in retrospect it hints that I was pulled this way.

Also: sometimes you just have to get rid of clothes you've had for years that are in good condition that you've grown bored of. I'm my own strictest critic when it comes to this. I remember that when I was a teen and a young woman I dressed almost exclusively in black: even at every holiday. I can remember one Easter at my parents house wearing one of my usual black outfits. This is interesting because today I feel that when I wear all black I look severe.

Ironically: I haven't dressed in black from head-to-toe in a long time. The critic in me feels that if I were a therapist wearing all black would create a buffer between the patient and me and I'd come across as cold and indifferent. This is just an idea I have that is possibly not true at all. Right now I wear black sweaters with jeans or with my gray pants and I wear the black jacket with the cashmere long sleeve tee shirts and jeans.

This is. Something else entirely. Yes: I think of these things.

All these prescriptions I write for how to dress. You realize it is kind of Type A to want to dress so that you convey the effect you intended. That is the heart of the matter.

I'm proactive in how I shop now because I want to keep an eye on the clothes I'd wear in the new career. I remember two art therapists I knew whose style I coveted. One wore sweaters in the winter and the other dressed more formally yet did not wear suits. I will not have to wear suits as a therapist so that is good yet I do want to dress in a professional way. The stylist can steer me in the direction of this new wardrobe.

It is supposed to snow again on Wednesday. Heavens. It has been too much with this cold slushy weather and I hope next winter we have a better time of it.

OK: I've sent out this SOS because I've spent the whole weekend staring at my closets and drawers. Something has to give.

I had this conversation with someone who claimed comparing ourselves to other people can be a good thing when we want to emulate their positive qualities. So I understand how I coveted the style of the art therapists. I also was impressed with the clothes a woman in my original writing workshop wore because she had a great sense of style that reflected a sense of personal unity.

Right now you most likely want to tell me: basta. Enough. I understand. Not a lot of us have these kinds of fashion awakenings-or do we? I set the appointment with the stylist within two weeks.

Wish me good luck with this. I'll be sure to tell you the wind-up after she analyzes my wardrobe. Hopefully all is not lost.

Good day.

As Time Goes By

2010-02-27T19:43:00.005-05:00

Whoah. Just a minute. I must have lost my good sense. I realize I have a ton of clothes. A friend tells me I'm a fashionista and I have to admit she may be right.

In March I switch out the clothes: place the spring pants and shirts in the bedroom closet and store the winter clothes in the under bed boxes.

Funny how you see other people's closets in magazines and think they're the ones who have a ton of clothes when all along you're blind to the fact that your own wardrobe comes darn close. Maybe I was in denial. Now I'm distraught thinking how would I make space in my closets and drawers if I had a husband. It astounds me that I could have all these items hanging here there and everywhere.

Help! Help! I can imagine what the fashion stylist will tell me: I buy things I like piece by piece without achieving a cohesive look.

I wish it were spring already. I wish I could transfer the winter clothes to the under bed boxes. Frankly now I'm obsessed with what the stylist will pronounce when she looks over everything.

Here there everywhere. No kidding.

I didn't think I could be this hopeless.

Though to my credit everything is neatly organized on matching hangers.

Matching hangers. That's another thing.

Towels lined up from dark to light.

I'm not in my right mind folks.

Bless me father for I have sinned.

Nobody needs all these items of clothing.

Should I get married I enlist the fashion stylist to overhaul my wardrobe so that I can buy fewer things of better quality so I don't junk up the closets and drawers and leave my poor husband out on the fire escape in terms of storage options.

I use any tax refund I get to buy a pair of white pants and a pair of jeans that will fit me and that I'll look good in. For sure. Then I stop buying clothes because I have all I need for the spring and summer.

I'm aghast-that is the word-I'm aghast that I could have all this stuff. Shocked. That's what I am. Beyond belief.

I have gone on the Sartorialist web site and it is beautiful. Looking at the photos is a way to pick up ideas for my own wardrobe and get inspired.

It would be different if my apartment were in disarray and the contents were bulging. Then again I'm just rationalizing things by saying that so don't quote me on this. It would be different if I bought more expensive clothes as I wear out the things hanging in my closet now because then I wouldn't have the closets stuffed to the gills.

So that is my goal dear blog readers: to shop with a trained eye in the future.

I wish it were spring. I wish I could begin wearing the spring clothes. At least we have only three weeks until the season changes. Round here that does not mean instantly warmer weather however as soon as the calendar hits March 20 I'm going to do the closet switch.

This I can tell the stylist: I sometimes wear jeans to work and at other times I'm all decked out for business. A friend claims she's never seen me in the same outfit twice. That's fruit loops folks.

While the weather is in-between in the coming weeks I will wear a sweater I haven't worn all winter and wear the cashmere long sleeve tee shirts on their own without a jacket. I can return to wearing the navy tropical wool blazer in the early spring. I can begin to wear the black rayon jacket with hidden buttons.

I had no energy before and now I'm revved up thinking about this. Eating dinner most likely gave me the energy I lacked earlier in the day.

I don't need all these clothes. There's no excuse.

Let the three-week countdown begin.

I would love to use the stylist again if she works out this time. That's because there's no way I want to amass all this stuff all over again when the items I already have are discarded. I will only buy good-quality items that I can mix-and-match for a cohesive blend.

Yes I do wonder what the stylist will tell me when she takes a look at the two closets and the clothes hanging on the rod in the armoire.

Now: it is crystal-clear to me that I was born this way, with a love of fashion. I can honestly admit that the eras in my life dictated the kinds of clothes I wore and so I'm not alarmed like I used to be about the rocker chic clothes I wore in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

The changing seasons of our life warrant new approaches to shopping and dressing. In some ways I was possibly always ahead of the curve and then I settled down in terms of fashion. I regard my younger self with awe and respect for the choices she made: her life choices as well as fashion choices.

Do you see how it is? Look at yourself with a kind eye. I have learned to do this. It is easier said than done for a lot of us.

I have itemized in here the contents of my wardrobe when I was a young woman so I will not repeat the litany.

One thing I can tell you: find out what makes you happy and pursue it with zeal.

See. I've spent a half hour talking only of fashion. Not about anything else.

Sometimes I can believe it's what makes me tick. Not the schizophrenia. My love of fashion undoubtedly saved me and helped me recover and make my way in the world.

I owe this debt of gratitude to my younger self for daring to dream and then daring to dress herself according to her dreams.

We all have made fashion mistakes. Mine was a pea-green blazer silk-screened with punk rock images that surely didn't flatter me. What was I thinking? As a young woman I was fascinated with the unusual.

That is how we learn: as time goes by. We learn from our fashion mistakes. We live and learn.

I will now go and leave you to enjoy the rest of your night.

Tootles.

Run Baby Run

2010-02-24T20:12:00.002-05:00

Later:

I've done the laundry and stored away the items.

Earlier I ordered a banana leaf wicker magazine rack to place at the side of my bed so I can corral my notebook and books inside it in the morning. All the better to make it easier to make my bed to give me instant cheer.

The Norah Jones CD Feels Like Home is on its way here. I'm missing only one of Norah's albums-is it New York City?

Don't feel like cooking as I have no energy. Will most likely have some cereal and cook tomorrow night.

My love of order is most likely an inborn trait. I responded to a Real Simple question: how do you keep the main areas of your home clutter-free?

First: I detest knick-knacks so don't buy anything thus my coffee table and buffet server are neat. The only items ever on my coffee table are the wooden egg carved with an African design, the trio of candles I received as a housewarming present at my other apartment and a tiny book of beautiful photos titled Face Time. On the server is a photo of my parents in a maple frame, a bowl with turquoise stones and a crystal jam jar a long-lost friend gave me.

On top of the bookcase are three picture frames. My desktop has the most clutter.

The trick is to stop yourself and not keep buying things. When one new thing comes in one thing should go out. I also don't have "collections" like some people do: knick-knack graveyards out in the open for everyone to see. Your apartment is not a diary so keep private things private while you're at it.

My secret to maintaining order is that I don't create messes to begin with! I can live with a little dirt however I cannot live in a mess. I hope Real Simple uses my suggestions in one of their magazines.

______________________________

Have finished reading The Sartorialist and will buy the book to use as inspiration for dressing. It's a look book of people on the street that Scott Schuman shot for his web site, www.Thesartorialist.com. I'm particularly inspired to loosely recreate a look styled by a young woman in Italy.

I would love to be singled out for such a photograph.

______________________________

Well now: I decided I had to have matching towels so I'm going back to buy two towels in a lighter shade of pink. I can store them from the darkest on the bottom to the lightest on the top-from hot pink to rose to peppermint. A little bit Type A do you suppose? Of course.

Also wanted to buy a moss-green-and-white striped pitcher that was featured in the O magazine however I'm going to quit while I'm ahead. I want to organize the storage boxes on the bottom of the coat closet so that in the off-season I can store the air conditioner there.

Right now I have no space on the bookshelves for any more books. I could buy maybe The Sartorialist and that is the only book. I wish I had space for more books. There's an IKEA black wooden bookcase I could get down the road however I worry it would monopolize the wall where the smaller bookcase is now. I could always weed my books, right?

Most of the books in my collection are fashion and poetry and memoir with a smattering of useful and practical self-help guides like Don Greene's Fight Your Fear and Win. I suppose I could buy notable books and read them and then donate them to a thrift shop as a way of supporting authors and giving the books a second life with others who cannot afford to buy them retail. That would be the virtuous thing to do.

Yes: I will donate to the Salvation Army three books. I have two full bags to send to the thrift shop and a third bag full of wooden skirt hangers.

______________________________

I bought the towels and shipped the bags to Sal's so now the apartment is neat and tidy with no bags cluttering the floor. I donated the book Target Underwear and a Vera Wang Gown because I wasn't impressed with it so didn't feel the need to keep it on my shelf. Browsing my collection: I've decided to begin reading the book Brown Girl, Brownstones that I picked up at a book sale years ago and have yet to read.

Right now I'm between books waiting for Patti Smith's memoir Just Kids to arrive. I bought her poetry collection Babel in the early 1980s when I was a teen. She is a great talent.

Alas one of her albums I couldn't bring myself to buy because one of the song titles had a racial epithet in the title. I do not know why she chose that word or what the song was intended to be about. Maybe she was referring to the fact that she was someone cast out of the mainstream rock-n-roll arena. That I do not know. I would rather not hear that word bandied about in a song. I have a Fugees CD and it's a great album however there's one song where that word is repeated over and over and I just don't get it.

I'm listening to Sheryl Crow's Tuesday Night Music Club as I type in here.

It's so good to have no demands just for one day. All I did was go to the gym and do 30 minutes on the treadmill. Nothing else beckoned. Tomorrow I will return to the gym and do the treadmill again. That is all I do now. I want to lose 4 lbs. I give myself until my birthday to do this.

Would like to buy a pair of striped jeans I saw on the Loft web site. I have a $25 savings card so I hope the jeans are still there when I want to buy them. One of the books I browsed in my collection as I weeded it was a fashion book written by a woman who is the "Dr. of Closetology." I took the quiz and found out I'm a Modernist Natural style type whatever that's supposed to be.

I'm having an image consultant come to my apartment and look at the clothes in my closet and suggest new additions. First she talks to you about what you own and then you go shopping with her to find new items. All I want: a pair of white pants and a pair of neat jeans that will fit and that I'll look good in. [I'm not convinced I look good in jeans. I've told you this before.]

Now. I'm fatigued. As I've been lately: fatigued all the time. Would love to talk on and on about fashion only my energy is beginning to flag so let me go.

Enjoy your day.

Beautifully Combined

2010-02-24T05:13:00.003-05:00

Yesterday:

In Starbucks I bought k.d. lang's Beautifully Combined CD that features songs she hand-picked as her greatest or favorite hits. I like "Black Coffee" a lot and of course "Constant Craving."

The idea that a person can beautifully combine with another person is not lost on me.

Elizabeth Gilbert makes peace with marrying Felipe in Committed-her book about the year leading up to her wedding that saw her researching the topic of marriage and interviewing her friends and the Asian women she met in her travels.

To me marriage is like buying another coffee mug: nice yet not necessary. I'm the last of the independents. I have too much work to do otherwise to be able to cater to someone's needs 100 percent of the time.

Gilbert was forced to marry Felipe because otherwise he couldn't enter the U.S. legally. They had already bought rings and gave them to each other in a commitment ceremony yet had no intention of officially tying the knot until the Department of Immigration tied their hands.

I'm almost done reading Committed- I have maybe 10 pages to go. About 20 pages left of Traveling with Pomegranates.

______________________________

The thing about recovery haunts me now although I can work it a different way. It is true that for a lot of people the medication doesn't control their symptoms. OK then: what do you do? You do what you can do to make a good life for yourself even with the limitations presented to you. You choose recovery and soldier on in the face of someone like E. Fuller Torrey telling you you haven't recovered and have no chance of recovering.

Torrey's beef is that the recovery movement is not rooted in a scientific method or quantifiable outcomes. He is a dinosaur in that regard. What would he have to say about cancer patients who use creative visualization to help in their recovery? Creative visualization is not a scientifically-proven method.

Are we to infer from Torrey's medical model that the recovery movement is not a useful accompaniment to psychiatric treatment with medication? In the absence of the recovery movement a lot of people diagnosed with schizophrenia would live lives of despair with no hope that they could make their way in the world.

We cannot parrot Torrey's statistics about the number of people who completely recover versus the ones who don't versus the ones who fall somewhere in the middle. These figures are not based on research. Even were the numbers true that doesn't mean one should give up hope. You can live in supported living with dignity and attend a Clubhouse and consider yourself to be recovered even though E. Fuller Torrey doesn't believe you have.

Recovery is in the eye of the person living with schizophrenia-not in the eye of the beholder. This is how I see it and where my thinking could be considered radical. Torrey should not use the word recovery when he is talking about differing levels of remission. You can be in recovery and not be in remission. I'm clear on this when I give talks to mothers and fathers who want hope that their sons and daughters can recover.

That is why the recovery model is not and cannot be a medical model: remission is the accurate term that describes the medical model. Torrey would better serve his readers to make this true distinction because doing so he could offer real hope instead of striking out against those of us in recovery who believe others can recover too.

Not everyone in recovery would consider themselves to be in the recovery movement which is not a distinction E. Fuller Torrey is capable of making either.

______________________________

My second book is now 112 pages long. I couldn't sleep and began working on it at six in the morning. I added content to one section that strengthens the message I was giving. Tonight I will add a new section to the chapter I've been working on this weekend. That chapter should be done by Saturday. The book is 32,000 words.

Now I will go sign off and get ready to go out.

Enjoy your day.

Tide

2010-02-23T19:03:00.002-05:00

In the farthest city light:

Cars slosh down the street in the night rain.

I have walked down this road and back again.

The wind howling sounds like I live on the edge of the world.

Slosh howl slosh howl howl slosh howl.

Twilight speaks.

Cake

2010-02-22T14:21:00.003-05:00

Just sayin':

This is the way I see things.

Hush.

All I can do is this: listen and understand. I wouldn't dare judge someone else's pain as less than my own.

The author who wrote the memoir Piece of Cake had a life that wasn't a piece of cake for her though she triumphed. Wouldn't dare presume that anybody's life is a piece of cake.

I wrote about this in my second book: that we must reserve judgment.

There is another option: to hold someone's hand and lead them away from the ledge.

You cannot know how close to the edge or the ledge anyone else was unless you walked in their shoes. Empathy is not a dirty word.

The Third Eye Blind song where the singer tells his friend to step back from the ledge and that the singer would understand always resonated with me.

To remember is to understand.

I will never forget the night of September 25, 1987 when I had my breakdown.

How many of us cross back into a better life?

We scramble to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives and move forward forever changed.

I cannot separate then and now: the storyteller in me will not be quiet.

Life goes on on. We wake up each day grateful that we have this day. Grateful. I am. Are you? Having been there I stand in solidarity with others.

In March I give a talk titled "Recovery from Schizophrenia." I talk for 20 minutes and then take and answer questions.

No. I will not discount anyone else's pain. I make this promise to everyone diagnosed with a mental illness: to listen and understand.

You do not know until you walk a mile in someone else's moccasins whether their life is a piece of cake or a burning mess of candles.

I would extend to anyone in pain the offering of a piece of cake:

Chocolate. Or cheesecake. Something sweet to take away their pain.

In the end it comes down to this:

I have schizophrenia. At the end of the day it will always be true that I succeeded despite having this diagnosis. My achievements are not entirely my own. I did pretty well for someone who has schizophrenia. That's the truth.

I do own a pair of moccasins by the way: red ones. I've been down this road so long they're worn and scuffed.

Cheers.

The Recovery Model

2010-02-21T18:26:00.004-05:00

Quiet.

I was just reading Kate K.'s blog entry about E. Fuller Torrey's book, Surviving Schizophrenia where he maintains: "The problem with the 'recovery model' is that it places unrealistic expectations on individuals and their families. If the person does not recover, then it must be because they are not trying hard enough."

He has connected two unrelated dots that are as far away from each other as Russia and Africa. Nobody working in the recovery movement would dare suggest somebody failed because they didn't try hard enough. He has a narrow view of the definition of recovery and assumes that most people don't recover when in fact long-term studies have proved up to 60 percent of the people diagnosed with schizophrenia recover fully or significantly improve.

Courtenay Harding's famous "Vermont study" tracked patients released from a state hospital in the 1950s up through the 1980s and most had no signs or symptoms of the illness they were diagnosed with. The anti-psychiatry contingent loves this study because a fair number of the participants stopped taking their medication and were able to function just fine.

E. Fuller Torrey is in no position to criticize a movement he will never be a part because he has no inside track on how it works.

You see: my definition of recovery encompasses multiple differing versions of how people live their lives. E. Fuller Torrey seems to buy into the myth that if you're not the CEO of a corporation you haven't recovered.

That's not how it works Fuller boy. Plenty of people can and do recover and it is by their own yardstick that they measure their success, not yours.

What part of the "help" in self-help does this guy not get?

Interesting: nowhere in my second book do I extol the power of positive thinking. I do mention that a healthy dose of ambition is not a sin. However nowhere do I presume to tell anyone they are not trying hard enough.

The esteemed Torrey forgets that when it comes to schizophrenia the severity of the illness is often determined by the luck of the draw. So it is possible that some people will not recover to the level that other people recover. Yet no one in the recovery movement itself would claim this was a personal failing.

My book is aimed at the great number of people who want to recover and are capable of recovering.

I read the original Surviving Schizophrenia in 1987 after I came out of the hospital and was not impressed.

My Twitter says it all: Here's the playing field. Please join in.

E. Fuller Torrey does a great disservice with his reverse stigma: he is actually projecting onto other people his own belief that recovery is not possible. I always felt that if a line were drawn in the sand I would stand on the side of everyone who had been locked up regardless of their level of functioning. I see no difference between back wards patients and me except that I was on the lucky end of the luck of the draw. And I'm not proud that I recovered whereas a great number of people do not. I don't consider myself to be a special person either. I'm only grateful that God gave me a talent to use to help make the world a better place for people living with schizophrenia and other mental illnesses.

Torrey claims only 25 percent of the people diagnosed with schizophrenia completely recover which is another lie. Define completely. Define recovery. He paints things in broad brush strokes as if you're either institutionalized or some kind of wonder kid. The far more accurate picture is that most people live in the middle and there's no shame in that.

OK. I will stop. You understand. What I'm trying to say.

Now I will go sign off and wind down for the night.

Cheers.

Black Coffee in Bed

2010-02-18T18:05:00.005-05:00

Fuhgeddaboutit:

The pants arrived and they are low rise even though the web site did not clearly label them as such. I go to the store to return them and get a credit. I tried bending down to see if I could live with them and alas I flashed so there's no keeping them.

It's back to square one: enlisting the image consultant to suggest where I can buy a pair of white pants and a pair of jeans that will fit me well and look good.

I'm going to contact Organization by Design in late March and take it from there.

Surely there has to be a vendor that cuts a respectful pair of pants?

Sunday I went to the boutique and added money towards the layaway so soon [as of next Friday] the necklace will be mine. I would love if the shop owner offered layaway for the pocketbooks and scarves too.

In just four weeks it's spring and I cannot wait. That does not always bring warmer weather round here though. At least I will be able to wear my short pink punch coat instead of the long winter coat. A dose of optimistically inspired color to float on.

It is quiet here.

I've been obsessed with writing my second book which has 95 pages now and there's no stopping me. It could get published before the memoir. I have 20 copies printed to distribute to friends and colleagues for their honest feedback. I do this in July when I have some extra money. A friend has signed on to read the book.

In my fifties: fiction beckons.

I get inspired by the quotes in my appointment book. This week's caption to a steaming cup of coffee: "Your life must be sweet" one barista told him, "to take your coffee so bitter."

What a sweet life: to be a writer and do the things I enjoy. I'll take my coffee bitter any time should my life be so sweet.

95 pages and counting. Tonight I will complete chapter four and print up a copy of the manuscript to give to a friend on Sunday.

OK: I would like to pick up the necklace this weekend instead.

______________________________

Caroline, or Change is a great play. It was so sad and the reality shook me in a way no other secondhand account of the civil rights era has. Racism was and is inexcusable. Caroline is an uneducated woman who works as a maid raising three kids [the fourth is in Vietnam] alone in 1963. She fled her abusive husband who returned from the Navy in the 1950s and-unable to find work-hit the bottle and her. Her children would have opportunities she would never know.

The cast was great. My friend and I and some others in the audience rose up when Teisha Duncan [Caroline] took her bow.

I couldn't understand it: Why did the white stepmother need a maid? Couldn't she do all the chores herself? It was just her and her husband and his son. My mother never had a maid. One thing I wonder [and I'm not sure why]: what my mother thought about the lynchings in the South-if she thought about them at all. It chills me to think that that the last lynching took place just 10 years before I was born when Emmett Till was murdered.

Though a Yahoo answer revealed that in 1998 a trio of white supremacists killed an innocent African-American guy [define lynching].

That was what the Billie Holiday song "Strange Fruit" was about, right?

This is our history and a shameful one at that.

______________________________

Today I returned the pants and exchanged them for a pair of black sunglasses. I also bought an amethyst necklace from which hung an amethyst stone. A pink tee shirt set me back only $17 so I couldn't resist buying it as well.

Now I'm home typing in here. I wear the lipstick-red cashmere long sleeve tee shirt and the Esprit collection black jeans and my black jacket with the black ankle boots and the oversize red stone ring. That was my going-out outfit.

Alas the only pants and jeans Loft sells now are low rise and they just won't do.

The Squeeze song "Black Coffee in Bed" is always played on the radio now.

I don't drink coffee however if I did I'd take mine bitter.

Cheers.

Three Chords and the Truth

2010-02-11T17:16:00.004-05:00

Well I did it: ordered two pairs of pants from the Loft web site as when I logged on today they were on sale 50 percent off so why not buy two? White canvas and deep blue canvas pants with a removable braided belt. So now I have the white pants to wear with the black tee shirt and sunny yellow scarf I bought last month, or with the black tee shirt and the new necklace.

This topic is much preferable to the trend of late in JM. Though I will tell you the research proves Kendra's Law is effective at reducing homelessness and crime for individuals with a history of this. We can't argue that homelessness and crime causes untold debt in terms of the loss of the human capital of a society. This cannot be measured in dollar bills.

I could not look you in the eye and claim that this doesn't matter and that homelessness is a choice for most people. I could choose to flash naked in a park and that would be my choice too. So this argument can be shot with holes. When did civil obedience become a dirty word?

People become homeless not because they choose to be: they wind up on the streets because they are delusional and refuse treatment and do things counterproductive to their recovery.

These statistics should chill you:

"Mentally ill individuals are fifteen times more likely to be assaulted, twenty-three
times more likely to be raped, and one hundred forty times more likely to
experience property theft than the general population."

[Cornell Law School document]

If "equal protection" under the law does not guarantee those of us living with mental illnesses equal protection from these crimes: what exactly does that law provide us? Apparently it gives us the right to live above a subway grate and be raped in the dead of night.

Saturday I will go to the boutique and give the shop owner some more money towards the necklace with my Valentine's Day cash.

Want to cheer myself up and depart from this gloom.

It's time to go sign off as I feel I have nothing new to contribute to this story.

Best wishes to you.

Peace

2010-02-10T23:33:00.003-05:00

Just now:

I have written a response to a grieving woman at the Connection that was impassioned and heartfelt. So I trust I "walk the talk" as a mental health activist.

The death of Esmin Green gave the anti-psychiatry contingent a built-in platform for the anti-recovery venom they spew. Now they can wrap their poison around the flag of compassion when in no way do they have compassion for people with schizophrenia who need to take medication in order to function.

What event could I use to galvanize others? My own accomplishments are in no way as dramatic as the video of a woman falling to the floor and dying while a security guard did nothing. If you ask me they should close Kings County down.

The thing is I wonder that I can do anything except what I'm already doing. I can only counter their hate with love.

I read in the book Cultural Creatives that Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. was only 26 when he was asked to lead the boycotts. He rose to the challenge when greatness was required of him.

26. Martin Luther King was only 26. He had a dream. And I have a dream: that one day all people will be able to access mental health treatment without fear of stigma or abuse. The kind of stigma those groups create against people who need drugs is unconscionable.

I believed in a power bigger than my pain. So I was determined to use my pain to make things better for people coming up in their recovery after me.

My great goal is to help others heal.

Anything else I could do that would not support this goal would be a waste of my God-given talent.

Peace out.

Snow Day

2010-02-10T17:21:00.002-05:00

Hello I must be going:

I voiced my opinion in an article I sent to New York City Voices. We'll see if the editorial staff has the balls to publish it.

I slept for two hours in the afternoon. At about three o'clock I woke up and retreated to the computer to type up IMHO: Civil Liberties-shorthand for In My Humble Opinion. Should Voices not give the piece air time I will publish it at the Connection in the spring.

I take an unpopular stance yet it is the rational one: that forced treatment is sometimes necessary to prevent violent crime as well as disability. I prize above all else my rational mind. More so than I value my beauty. Once your beauty fades you have to rely on your wits. I would mourn the loss of my pretty face however I would survive because I'm sharp as a tack.

Unfortunately knee-jerk rhetoric holds sway and is given power in the media because of the death of Esmin Green. A tragedy that never should have happened.

We shall see if Voices publishes my article. This will be the test.

I will also send the article to NAMI-New York State to see if they could use it somehow to advocate for the continuation of Kendra's Law. What I wrote comes on like blazes.

The anti-psychiatry contingent will not be amused. So be it.

So be it.

The wind howls outside and it's too dark and the windows are snowy so I can't tell if it's still snowing. I could turn on the weather report to find out. Oddly my apartment has not been as cold as it sometimes is.

I've been so busy writing the articles today that I didn't stop to warm up the tomato soup for lunch. In about 20 minutes I will go cook a hearty dinner: chicken and spinach and bulgur. That's all I can do because most likely no restaurant would deliver food here even if it was open.

Feel closed in because of the snow.

The howling wind sounds like the end of the world.

Also feel like I should quit while I'm ahead. I will not garner fans when the article is published however that is not my concern. My intent is speaking the truth and presenting a rational counterpoint to the knee-jerk reactions against psychiatric treatment.

My friend tells me that in only one instance is an irrational mindset justified: love.

Love.

The last thing I will tell you is that I feel the best way I can help prevent psychiatric abuse is to tell my story as living proof that people diagnosed with schizophrenia are not second-class citizens to be kicked around like useless stones.

The staff at Kings County responsible for the murder of Esmin Green should be held accountable for their crime.

However that does not mean forced treatment should not ever be an option for someone diagnosed with schizophrenia or another mental illness. In some cases forced treatment is necessary. I will actively campaign to help make sure Kendra's Law doesn't sunset in 2010.

Finito.

Winter Crusade

2010-02-09T21:12:00.006-05:00

Yes:

I praise the first lady's efforts to eliminate childhood obesity within one generation. My kids would eat fruits and vegetables and whole grains and lots of fish were I lucky enough to have kids.

In a New York Times article covering this initiative someone said that some schools actually have a McDonald's in them. Of course too as one commenter mentioned agribusinesses that manufacture food products with high fructose corn syrup need to be exposed.

It is my ethic to live a conscious life: conscious of the food I put into my mouth and of how my behaviors support or hinder a healthy lifestyle and of how I share the earth with other human beings and how my actions effect other people.

Everything I do I seek to do for the greater good and that is why I live a simple life unburdened by unchecked consumerism. It doesn't hurt that Mom is sending me a Valentine's Day card with a $20 bill so that I can add it to the cost of the necklace. This money will come just in time.

Honestly I don't know how someone could criticize Michelle Obama for wanting to stamp out childhood obesity as one commenter did on the Times web site. Something has to be done and I'm glad she stepped up to the plate.

So I give her kudos for tackling this 300-lb. elephant in the room.

______________________________

This is all I do going into the spring: go to the gym and be mindful of what I eat. Tonight I did the treadmill at a 5.5 incline and 3.4 speed and for the last 10 minutes I upped the speed to 3.5. My heart rate skyrockets with this kind of workout. I sticker in my appointment book the days I work out with smiley faces.

You come to this on your own.

Or at least I have: set a challenge. The winter has been so frightfully cold that setting any other goal for these dark days I cannot bring myself to do. Only this: go to the gym and eat more healthfully. The perfect winter crusade. I have come at this goal without understanding why it has struck me with such force. Perhaps the astrology book will enlighten me. Will take it off the shelf and read the section on 2010.

So sad to say that I have no other goal. Yet is that sad? I will reach inside myself and do it My Way.

In the New York Times today there was an article about deadly karaoke: more people are killed during karaoke when the singer is belting out "My Way" by Frank Sinatra. This phenomenon is most often observed in the Filippines where violence is high and the police have a code name for death-by-karaoke. Some revelers steer clear of this danger by choosing not to sing "My Way" because of the threat of Sinatra-cide.

Can you imagine?

______________________________

Right now it is late and I'm exhausted and praying for snow so I will go sign off.

Tootles.

Song of Life

2010-02-08T16:12:00.003-05:00

You know it's not going to be good when you take one of those little black shopping totes when you enter Sephora after seeing your psychiatrist.

Yesterday: I went to the Barnes & Noble and bought the Cultural Creatives book because it was only $16 and I decided that would be okay. I skimmed it waiting in Dr. Altman's office and on the way home.

One thing: I doubt I would be willing to go to jail for what I believed in and most likely I couldn't anyhow because I'm on the Geodon and we know what happens to people with schizophrenia who wind up in jail.

Also I continue to read Traveling With Pomegranates and I'm halfway done. Cultural Creatives buy and read more books than most people and attend cultural events in greater numbers too. In that book someone interviewed was quoted to the effect that the ego gets in the way. This was the contention Eckhart Tolle made in A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose.

Always: I've had a sense of self that guided me to achieve things. The concept of failing didn't occur to me and even if it did it I set out on my merry way regardless. I admit a part of me revels in my achievements. Does that mean I have a big ego?

In ways it doesn't matter to me whether I make a name for myself as there's no glory in mental health activism: you do it because it's the right thing to do and only that.

I wanted to buy the book because I have now another book I'm reading: Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace With Marriage by Elizabeth Gilbert. So I want to wait on reading Cultural Creatives until I finish this book and the Pomegranates one.

What can I do? How can I act? Protest marches aren't my style yet I want to be certain I "walk the talk" as the expression goes. I was approached with a request to join someone in advocating for better and safer atypicals and I'm at a loss for what can actually be done. Government research dollars would need to be freed up for this effort. Could I send a letter to my elected officials? The three key factors beside education are research, research, research when it comes to making things better for people living with schizophrenia and other mental illnesses.

I feel like Isabella Rossellini who in an interview lamented that so many people made demands for her time and she could only give the interviewer two hours. Possibly I have to concede that all I do is good enough and there's not much more I can do. How many people face the dilemma of doing too much? I wonder.

A friend said one thing that needs to change is that people keep saying the mental health system is broken yet nothing has been done to fix it. True enough. Yet I cannot stand on the side of people who are against forced treatment because sometimes that is necessary and the death of Esmin Green should not be a deterrent to getting people the help they need. I'm as shocked and outraged as anyone however my contention is: if you have schizophrenia you'd better well take your medication you have no right pushing a woman in front of a subway train. What about Kendra Webdale's civil liberties? So I couldn't allow Kendra's Law [requiring forced treatment] to sunset in 2010. All the civil liberties folk rail against forced treatment well if I hadn't been hospitalized against my will the second time I would be dead. Case closed. Andrew Goldstein did not have the right to kill someone folks so get out of the way and let people be treated with drugs for their medical condition.

The laws are not perfect however in the absence of the laws there would be chaos. More than that the billions we spend on mental health might reach into the trillions if we allowed people their "rights" to go off their meds and decompensate and go off their meds again and further deteriorate.

My contention is that when you are diagnosed with schizophrenia and have to take medication to be able to function well, you give up certain rights: namely, the right to do as you please and not take your medication. I believe it is part of the social covenant each one of us has with everyone else in the world that we do the right thing not what we feel like doing. So Mad Pride and the Icarus Project can champion their right to be crazy and it holds no sway with me.

Mental illnesses are not "dangerous gifts" they are real diseases and require treatment with medication.

I'm sorry but I gave up my rights a long time ago when I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. The one thing I did not give up was my right to have a good life. That is what taking the Geodon does: enables me to have the kind of life worth living.

Now I do believe that some people can be what a friend calls "crazy as a jaybird" and still function in society. However that is not everyone and for the great majority of people with mental illnesses we need to take some form of pills.

OK: a person could go off his meds once to see if he can live without them however if he cannot that's not an experiment you want to keep trying. I grant it that this is a natural desire and it's perfectly reasonable to want to see if you can function without the meds. Most of the time this doesn't work, OK?

Because. I'm not. The kind of person. Who would settle for less. Another life awaits me when I go back to school. Which would not. Be possible. Without medication.

I think I've made my point and there's no need to belabor it.

Tootles.

P.S.

2010-02-08T09:26:00.002-05:00

Days later:

The idea that some people are cultural creatives I can't square away. How did the researcher determine there were 50million of us living in America? Will anything we do actually change the world for the better when the old way of life is seductive to most people? Can we set climate protocols?

One thing: true cultural creatives do not lean to the left or to the right politically. We espouse new solutions that require a different kind of government that is neither right-wing nor totally left. That is not to say we would always be centrist.

Days later I muse on this because it seems a fuzzy concept: the idea that people can be cultural creatives. How does that translate into real life? There's an expression: "If you name it, you can claim it" and possibly that applies here too. Yet I'm uncomfortable with this label, as if I've been found out.

Maybe I'm just too ambitious to want to concede that I use my talents to better the world. I want to be recognized for my own efforts and not lumped into a category. Where does the individual and his or her accomplishments fit into the cultural creative milieu?

I understand that the ethic of "service above self" is a noble one however each of us has a self and I'm not able to subjugate my self or take a back seat, like a Traditional would or someone who is content to lie on the couch all day watching TV. I covet recognition for the efforts I give to certain organizations. This is a two-way street.

So as I type this it's hard for me to understand that I could be a cultural creative. I abhor doing things in a vacuum: I want to be heard when I communicate my message. I realize not everyone is going to want to hear what I have to say and others will not be receptive to it. That's why I can't sell my book as if I wrote it to de-stigmatize people living with schizophrenia because I did not. Indirectly it does that-true. Yet I don't allow stigma to dictate how I feel about myself or whether or not I'm going to seek to set goals and achieve them. Stigma carries no weight with me.

Funny: it feels like a stigma to be outed as a cultural creative even though we do good things and there should be no shame in living a life of service to others. I'm going to check out of the library The Cultural Creatives: How 50 Million People Are Changing The World because I don't have the money to buy the book.

A life of volunteerism is the hallmark of a cultural creative. When I read the book I'll be better able to sift through this knowledge and come to a conclusion I can live with.

For now I'll leave you with this:

The reason I don't buy this lifestyle is because I'm not certain we can actually change the world, as the usual way of doing things is so entrenched in most people. I would like to think our actions can have a lasting impact yet who am I kidding? I need to see concrete, tangible results to believe the tide has actually turned. Give me the numbers: tell me how many people's lives have been changed and what the results of our efforts have been. The fuzziness of it and the feel-good aspect doesn't sit well with me.

Though the truth is it's possibly not an ethic that can be defined in words or accounted for with bottom-line principles, so maybe language comes in a poor second to describe the impact of a cultural creative's actions.

Days later I'm mixed about this because I wonder if to be a cultural creative I have to live an ascetic life and the truth is I don't deny myself trinkets like the necklace.

I'm searching now. I'm searching for my own words to describe my life ethic that won't be co-opted by a researcher or a sociologist. I've been sifting through this knowledge all weekend. I will let you know more after I've finished reading the Cultural Creatives book.

You think. I'm obsessed. With this. Now.

So I'll go sign off and leave you to enjoy your day.

Cheers.

Look Book

2010-02-07T17:45:00.002-05:00

These photos are from the look book I created today. In the first one I'm the image of a latter-day punk rock school girl. The second I consider grunge-y: a typical casual outfit. In the last picture I wear the trendy necklace I bought in Banana Republic when I ended the cognitive therapy.

In all the photos my friend shot I'm wearing only lipstick, as I do on most days. In the last photo posted here I look ethnic. Thus I feel having 16 tubes of lipstick is justified: I know exactly which shade to use for each outfit to brighten my dull skin.

I look Italian. There is no way around this. I have distinctly Mediterranean features. You won't see me on a cornflake box. An old college friend [whose wisdom outlived the friendship] told me: "You look good without makeup."

Fear I look severe in black [the Sicilian widow effect] because although I do wear colors I fall back on black. Would like to buy a pair of white canvas pants I saw on the Loft web site. I'll see if I can swing that. It would be my one purchase this month apart from the necklace.

Walked past the jewelry store and on impulse I backed up and went in to see if I could find something for $10 or $15 dollars. Then I told myself I hadn't treated myself to anything in awhile so why not take advantage of the layaway plan that has generous terms. So I did. Shoot me.

The food order arrived just now. I bought a container of quinoa salad with faro in balsamic dressing that I'll have for lunch tomorrow. The bulgur cooks in 12 to 15 minutes and one serving fits the RDA of whole grains. I stored the salad and the baby beets in the refrigerator. I will try some baby beets with dinner tonight: have the crab cake and bulgur and baby beets.

2012 beckons. I want to be ready for it: fit and lean. With a sinewy mind. The way I see it: in three years I will have to make the decision the woman who gave me the reading told me I'd be faced with. That is a relatively short amount of time to make this kind of change in.

The rest of the winter and continuing in the spring I will devote my energy to the gym and to eating healthful foods. Only that. In March I will enlist the services of the image consultant.

The idea that you cannot look back in anger holds sway with me. You can only move forward with hope. To quote Linda Ellerbee: "Change is one form of hope. To risk change is to believe in tomorrow."

I believe tomorrow can only be better. I won't stress over things going on today and I won't worry about future events that are yet to happen. Always I will maintain a positive spirit. It is what I must do: keep hopeful. You would not continue to read JM if I put you in a downer. So I aim to entertain as well as educate.

Now I will go sign off and cook dinner.

Enjoy your night.

Odd Girl Out

2010-02-07T12:21:00.003-05:00

Good morning.

Or so it seems though it's after twelve.

Skimming a weekly horoscope column: I was struck by the astrologer's use of the term cultural creatives to describe a segment of the population 50million strong. I researched this culture via the links provided and taking the quiz I was able to see that I'm a cultural creative type. Those values just made sense to me and are reflected in my decision to go back to school for an MSW.

I was born in 1965-smack in the middle of the civil rights movement-and as a young woman I was deeply impressed with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s ethic of nonviolent protest and social change. I cannot tell you why I was so affected by this great humanitarian because even to me that is a mystery.

On the cultural creatives homepage it demystified this culture for me and I could understand how I unwittingly joined the club early on in my life: first when I quit my supermarket job to become a disc jockey [a labor of love] and then when I abandoned a law library career [with its potential for me to make the big bucks] and chose public service as a writer and activist.

I would not judge anyone who makes the choice to chase money and the things it can buy. No no no I wouldn't do that. [Spoken from a woman who placed on layaway a polish amber necklace.] These so-called Modernists have a different ethic from mine: I would not be afraid to pay higher taxes to fund social programs or environmental measures. I wasn't afraid that Barack Obama would turn America socialist as I felt that could only be a good thing.

So even all these years I toiled away on my activism and kept my ideas to myself I had no idea I fit into the image of a cultural creative. Their core value is to live an authentic life. When I read that the word authentic was their keyword that's when it clicked with me: that I believed in a power bigger than myself and yet I intuitively knew that self-actualization results in a better world for everyone not just you.

Working on self-improvement is the core value of a cultural creative only we do not equate self-improvement with improving ourselves financially and in terms of possessing material goods. So that is the difference between a Cultural Creative and a Modernist.

My only trophy is the action I take to better myself and the world. The action itself is its own reward. Imagine: I have talked in here about living an authentic life and have done so as a cultural creative without realizing I could be considered a cultural creative. I couldn't not be one because my very act of being open and honest in order to help others heal is the hallmark of a true cultural creative.

Listen: you don't have to protest in anti-war rallies to be part of this population. The Wikipedia entry is a good start to examine this lifestyle: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cultural_Creatives. The official web site is another good resource: http://www.culturalcreatives.org/

Exploring those web sites I could understand why I always felt like the odd girl out in my family of dyed-in-the-wool Republicans. I could see that it made sense why I left the town I lived in to move to the City. I didn't agree with the politics yet never knew exactly why those beliefs were anathema to me. I would only thrive in a world where I could be free to express myself and practice my faith in humanity without fear of reprisal.

Yes: this has been a heady blog entry. What can I take away from this? I want to meet people who are committed to a sane lifestyle because unchecked economic development and overpopulation and unethical corporate business practices are not sane.

We elected Barack Obama, didn't we? Now get out of the way and let him lead this country. It might be too much to expect our president to help us heal as a country yet certainly we would not be on our way to healing had McCain catapulted himself into the Oval Office.

It's not a white house any more. Neither is the world.

I want to tell people to get real and get with the program. 2012 is not going to be the end of the world. It's going to be the beginning of healing and transformation on both a personal and global level.

Only good can come of us.

I believe in a higher power. I also believe that this higher power works through every one of us and is in us. We can sow love instead of hate. We can choose to do what's right instead of what feels good. We can change ourselves and in so doing change the world.

Peace y'all.

p.s. - I'm uneasy with the idea that I could be part of a movement. To me, I'm just one person doing my own thing. I'll have to sift through this new knowledge and see what I can do with it to use it in a good way.

Circling to the Center

2010-02-05T13:09:00.002-05:00

Friday news:

I revised the query letter according to the first editor's suggestions. The second editor I spoke with on the phone today was a true professional as well. The tight market can only be a good thing because it will force writers to bring their A game to the business of publishing a book.

I wear the green tee shirt with the I Love Brooklyn message under my purple wool cardigan and the ivory cotton skullcap.

What shall I wear tomorrow? It is supposed to be cold again even though there's only six weeks until spring. Maybe the red hooded sweater and the black jeans.

I listen to the Norah Jones CD Come Away With Me now. I much prefer Norah. I was listening to the rock-n-roll radio and I felt sad because it was old hat. 25 years ago I was someone who blazed a trail and after that everything else was predestined.

It happens like this: in one moment-out of the blue-you realize it's time to move on. In actuality you were moving towards that light bulb flash for years.

Will buy a Rihanna CD and the India.Arie CD with the song "Therapy" on it to broaden the vocalists I can listen to at home.

It's all old-the music and that life-it's old hat. The music doesn't entrance me any more. So be it. I live in the middle now. All these years I was circling to the center.

One thing I will tell you: while the recovery of Elyn Saks with her Yale law degree is out of reach for most people I do believe my kind of recovery is possible for most.

It comes down to this: I achieved mind freedom via the medication and that is what a person can expect if she stays faithful to her drug routine: she can recover.

So each year of your life you can break down into seasons of discovery and recovery. I wait out these six weeks until spring. I use this time wisely.

I'm keen to get fitter and so I'm making changes to my eating habits: I bought balsamic dressing to use on salads instead of salad dressings made with food dyes. I bought sliced beets to have as a snack and bulgur to cook with. Bulgur-also known as cracked wheat-is a whole grain that is high in fiber and cooks quickly. So I'll add that to my evening meals instead of just having fish or chicken and a vegetable.

Slow and gradual changes are the kinds that last and so I do not dive in I make one change each week for the next six weeks.

The table top easel arrived in the mail today. I have a canvas on the easel ready to go. I want to paint a sunflower using a ceramic dinner plate pattern as my model.

Do you see how it is? I would be content to spend my days painting and writing and listening to music.

Nothing else matters.

I'm realistic: if this is as good as it gets, so be it. So be it.

Life will go on.

When you realize this is all you have and there's no place you'd rather be:

life is divine.

Poets Wear Prada

2010-02-04T14:35:00.006-05:00

Are you a nifty Thrifty? Or a serious Spendthrift?

Researchers now believe it's a genetic trait and has nothing to do with virtue: how much we spend. Tightwads feel spending money is painful. We might just be hard-wired a certain way when it comes to our purchasing decisions.

In a study, when a subject saw an item he wanted it activated his nucleus accumbens. This area of the brain controls anticipating or experiencing pleasure. When he saw a price tag he didn't like, it activated the insula. This area of the brain reacts to unpleasant shocks.

One researcher's most surprising finding was that tightwads outnumbered spendthrifts 3 to 2.

Thrift is indeed considered to be a genetic trait, like shyness. You can veer from your natural-born tendency in certain situations yet you will not change your orientation dramatically or permanently. The same goes for spendthrifts.

Imagine: the thrift-versus-spendthrift debate hinges on the workings of the brain and could indeed be biological.

A New York Times article claimed if a person ate less, he'd have more money to spend on healthful food so the idea of thrift works in a different way here. I rarely set foot in a supermarket and buy mostly organic foods.

A friend has my husband picked out for me yet this guy isn't in my club because he has tons of credit card debt and this being part of his natural brain functioning and its chemistry I'd be unable to walk down the aisle with him: whether it's the produce aisle or the marriage aisle.

One thing: I'm not cheap by any means. I have an aversion to shopping at K-Mart and drop things off at the Salvation Army and quickly exit the thrift shop once I'm free of the donation bags. Though I haven't spent more than $150 on a single item and that was a leather jacket I bought for myself for Christmas in 1993.

This topic fascinates me to no end. I love to read articles about retailers and their sales figures at the holidays and their tactics to lure shoppers into stores to part with our money.

Poets Wear Prada is an imprint that publishes poetry chapbooks. I like that name because it implies you don't have to starve for your art and can make a profit from it. The written word can be an economic engine too. It's not a sign that you've sold out. You can wear a poet's shirt or silk either way and not feel guilty.

_______________________

On the weekend a friend takes photos of me in outfits for the look book. The latest trend is for a person to brand herself to achieve recognition from others. This intrigues me and I'm going to see how I could do that.

First I dress in all the outfits that require pink lipstick and then I save the outfits for last that require red lipstick. One photo will show me wearing my eyeglasses that I give to the image consultant. I give her 10 photos and fill out the questionnaire and then she talks to me on the phone for a half hour and follows up with an e-mail listing where I can buy the items I want.

Wanted: a pair of white pants and a suggestion for where I can find a pair of jeans I'll look good in. Also: a list of vendors for pants that aren't low-rise. Perhaps an idea for what kinds of eyeglasses I'd look good in.

A friend commented that she liked my eyeglasses and were they a new pair because I'd told her before that I thought I looked ugly in the glasses. I told her they were the same pair I've had for five years. That is an extreme stance I have about these eyeglasses and I know this. Please forgive me I seem to have bought into the Dorothy Parker adage that "men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses."

Though of course people who wear glasses are considered intelligent. One of the Asian terror regime's leaders awhile back issued an edict for his soldiers to kill people who wore glasses because it signified they were members of the intellectual class. This is scary and I would tell you who did this only I'm not sure it could've been Pol Pot during the Khmer Rouge reign in Democratic Kampuchea.

Certainly then I should be proud of my right to wear eyeglasses in America. It doesn't matter if you look ugly when you're dead.

I'm going to sign off now because that's a strong statement to end with.

Peace,
Chris

La Vida Loca

2010-02-03T21:52:00.004-05:00

Curious indeed:

An editor claimed my memoir was actually literary nonfiction and needed to be marketed like a novel. He said it was in the league of The Bell Jar.

This makes sense because I wanted to write a good story that hooked readers. I'm first of all a writer who knew when she was seven years old that she wanted to be a writer. I'm not someone who wrote a memoir because she had a gimmick and had come lately to the publishing table. I always knew I wanted to publish books and indeed after my two nonfiction books are published I will begin to write fiction. Which I must have some natural talent for as that's how I wrote the memoir: as a work of literary nonfiction according to the editor.

I can cross him off the list as he has not offered to edit the book proposal or query letter. He was a true professional though because he took a look at them and gave me his honest feedback for free. Tomorrow I contact the second editor who returned my e-mail and wants me to call him in the morning.

This opens a world of possibilities for marketing and selling the book beyond the recovery market. I trust no one wants to read about the symptoms and the dysfunction for 300 pages and then find out at the end that the person didn't recover. Where's the hope in that kind of story?

I certainly don't buy such books when you can check them out of the library for free. Hell-and-heartache stories are easy enough to come by: just go down to the local gin mill or attend a support group. No no no: a memoir should uplift and inspire or else I'm not going to plunk down my hard-earned cash on it.

At this point in my life I don't want my claim to fame to be that I recovered from schizophrenia and certainly not in the future when I'll have other mountains to move.

Life beckons. A life outside the four walls. I don't know what tomorrow will bring I can only rise up to meet it. With the courage and confidence to re-invent myself yet again at key points. I'm entranced with the idea of inventing a new persona or at least an improved version of myself. Thus the lyrics to "Into a Swan" are the soundtrack to these coming changes.

Having schizophrenia should be beside the point.

I will tell you now and I will tell you always to set the bar.

There's no shame in achieving things even if some people would try to bring you down.

My friend tells me to be proud I live la vida loca and not to settle for less.

Rise up. Lift yourself up.

Life beckons.

Live it.

With passion.

Jimmy Choos

2010-02-02T07:10:00.002-05:00

The table top easel should arrive soon.

I go to Pearl Paint to buy dippers and other supplies. Would love to do a self-portrait in oils-I could work my way up to that. For now I paint colors because it is all I can do.

I'm on to the next thing in my head: the desire to get an MSW has hit with a gale force. I have to cool out now and first concentrate on publishing the memoir and the second book. I will never not be driven. So I chill out and wait five years to see what I do.

I confessed to a friend tonight that it was shameful to me to think I would have to collect a government disability check the rest of my life. I realize I was entitled to that check because I paid into the system however when I got sick I received only $423 a month from the government. When I lived in the halfway house I existed on $100 personal allowance each month after the rent and staff fees were paid with my SSD and SSI checks. Not only was I ashamed to collect a check it would've meant I lived below the poverty line.

I wouldn't judge someone else for collecting a check because that is their choice and sometimes it's out of their hands and they have no choice because they can't work and are entitled to benefits.

Well living on $100 per month I decided wasn't acceptable to me. Now here I am writing this blog and doing a hundred other things like a woman on the edge of her life always pushing herself beyond her comfort zone. I think it is actually a yoga term to talk about going to your edge.

Jean Cocteau is quoted: "Only by going too far can you possibly know how far you can go." Some people give up before they even start which is sad indeed.

Tonight I have no energy and I feel like I'm a mad woman who is possessed. Creating the timetable for making the coming changes has zapped my energy so I walked away from the notebook and shortly I will walk away from the computer.

I cannot tell you why I do all this except that I'm a fidget and can't sit still. Even today my couch is the most comfortable furniture in my apartment and I don't even sit on it. I'm reminded of the Jennifer Lopez song in which she boasts "Ten men couldn't do what I do in my YSLs."

Faith Popcorn got it right over 10 years ago when she wrote the book about the She-volution: the revolution of women as an economic power and force to be reckoned with.

I have ravaged myself tonight: I fear I won't be able to fall asleep when I go to bed.

This is how. I burst out. Into a Swan. Like the Siouxsie lyrics.

It is beyond my control. I'm mad I tell you: I'm a mad woman in my genetic code.

So I will go sign off now before I reach the point of no return.

Make mine Jimmy Choos.

Just Another Monday

2010-02-01T14:06:00.002-05:00

Afternoon routine:

The blueberries bake in the oven as I type in here. I'll tell you how they taste shortly.

Now they're cooling. I baked them for 20 minutes at 400 degrees. I have one with a glass of milk for lunch.

It nears three o'clock. I head out to meet a friend later.

Anticipation is hell: I want the blueberry muffin to be ready.

OK: so delicious warm when the blueberries ooze juice.

______________________________

From a street vendor I bought a parfait-pink wool scarf dubbed A.P.C. that I doubt was.

My colors: red green pink black purple. Alas last night at 1 a.m. I had the urge to hang up two tee shirts that were stored in one of the under bed boxes. Could not fall asleep until 3 a.m. Something on my mind:

Guy trouble-a friend who wants to be more than a friend has to understand my feelings and not go there. I'm not interested in him romantically. I'm sure other woman have experienced this universal dilemma: the guys we want we could wait on forever and the guys we don't want are all over us like cheap suits.

Saw O. and edited his resume at Sidewalk where we sat talking at a table all night. Right now I help people create their resumes and I can tell when a resume is terrible and how to fix it for the kinds of resumes I'm presented with. I couldn't whip a CEO's resume into shape however I could turn a so-so resume into a thing of beauty.

Well: I wonder whether I get a Masters in rehab counseling or an MSW. I have a way to test the water as a vocational counselor and I will do that in five or six years.

Where oh where will I store the mock-A.P.C. scarf? I wear it tomorrow tied snugly around my neck. It is a beautiful color and so warm.

I'm going to sign off for the night as I feel this blog entry has skirted details though women the world over have these concerns I'm sure.

Enjoy the night.

Lit

2010-01-30T13:26:00.006-05:00

The silvered branches of trees dot the landscape in a pointillist way. I'm reminded of a cold Giverny. So bone-chilled this morning that I thought frostbite had claimed my fingers because even under my gloves they were icicles. Hard to believe it's spring in seven weeks. I hold out the hope for warmer weather soon.

Tonight I meet D. I have some extra money so will buy new hot pink towels to replace the grotty old celadon ones and beige ones. I will see if I can get some pink LaCoste towels too. To usher in the spring with good cheer.

I'm making Annie's Naturals organic whole wheat macaroni-and-cheese now. I steal minutes to type in here as the water boils. A watched pot never boils. I'll have this late lunch with some peach iced tea I poured into one of the stemless wine glasses. I bought a set of small and large stemless wine glasses seven years ago when I received a generous check for a speaking engagement.

Tomorrow I cook blueberry muffins from a recipe an amateur baker gave me to try. I'll see how they come out. I can have a warm one for lunch with milk. All I do tomorrow is the treadmill and laundry.

radio sophie is my companion now.

It feels like tonight is going to be good. I'll listen to Matt Pinfield on WRXP play good songs from the 1980s and today with a spattering of old rock and other eras. He was billed as the "bald music savant" by another disc jockey on that station. He used to spin records on FM 106.3 when it used to be Modern Rock at the Jersey Shore-a good station years ago. I listened to it until the station changed its format. I would stay up until three in the morning at my old apartment listening to the radio. Those days are gone. That is when the Stelazine was still working and I was much younger and could do those things.

Time changes us. Memory is my anchor that keeps me grounded. History would repeat itseslf should I forget the past and what happened to me. Instead I'm aware what I must do to stay healthy: get to bed early and eat healthful foods and work at the jobs I love and get physical activity every day. This is how now I do things.

______________________________

I did 30 minutes on the treadmill at a 5.5 incline and 3.4 speed. I don't know if that is good or not however it's what I can do now. D. tells me I look athletic and this pleases me because I can fit into my clothes.

Bought: a pair of navy and a pair of black sweatpants plus a black Nike tee shirt with bold black letters that proclaim Just Do It plus a green I Love Brooklyn tee shirt.

Stayed up late working on a project to help get O. a job. He told me I was a real friend to help him with this. I sure hope he gets it because it is his dream job. Imagine if I were his girlfriend he'd have a sweetheart deal.

Tomorrow I wear a short skirt.

Friend indeed.

Now I will go sign off for the night as it nears eleven o'clock and I must wind down.

Cheers.

Lucky

2010-01-29T19:01:00.006-05:00

OK: Tonight I'm steamed like a little neck clam. Publishing the memoir requires strong tactics and I will employ them quickly.

I finished reading Lit by Mary Karr who is a prose stylist nonpareil. I read her memoirs The Liar's Club and Cherry years ago and bought them for my collection. She outdoes herself with Lit. I cried so hard at the end that I could taste the salt of my tears.

Oh: I would like to write one sentence as good as hers.

These days I have begun to spend refining and defining my life. The soundtrack to this soul-searching is "Just Breathe" by Pearl Jam that comes on the radio every day. Eddie Vedder croons about how he's a lucky man to count on both hands the ones he loves. In the coming years I hope to be so fortunate.

Yes: I will bend in the direction life dictates. I will love and lose people as we all do and I will walk on. It nears midnight as I write this swaddled in three layers because the apartment is so cold. The heat of the computer warms me whereas sitting at the dining table I was much colder eating dinner.

I have a theory that you can count on one hand the number of good friends you have.

I will do what I have to do to publish the memoir. I have a friend with an MBA who can help me write the marketing plan and I enlist his services in the spring.

My gosh: I wrote 30 blog entries in 30 days at the start of the 3 personal year so I've gotten off to a good start creatively. My mantra this year is: "Have fun!"

You will see universal themes touched on in JM. I choose not to blabber about insecurities and personal details though I could possibly do that as other bloggers have done so without qualms. Yet I won't. You can quote me on this.

Blogging your life it's like you're a fly in amber sealed in time and space that others peer at on the Internet. I have told you before I'm conflicted about the big reveal. Above all I want to entertain and educate you and do only this: word-by-word in living color.

My computer clock beckons 12:10 AM and so I will write for only a bit more and then go to bed. I urge you to listen to "Just Breathe" and even to download it on iTunes to your computer. I saw Pearl Jam live in concert at the Limelight in April 1992 just three months before I had to be hospitalized the second time. It was their first American concert and the former church was packed with an eclectic crowd. That event became a scene in the memoir.

Be grateful for what you have. Be grateful to count the ones you love. Read Lit and be transformed by the ending of Mary Karr's latest memoir.

This morning as I write the opposing forces of sadness and joy have loomed themselves into cloth like a jubilant sari.

Tell the people you love often that you love them.

That is why we are here: to love and be loved.

I see in my mind now pink and saffron and mint colors bursting into song.

These are the lyrics of my life: a pop song.

Bubblegum.

The Secret of Life

2010-01-28T14:12:00.003-05:00

Forgive others. To not forgive them is to give them power over you. Nobody wears anger well. When you are drenched in anger you remain stuck. Either get over it or you'll just keep wallowing in a pity party. Anger does not become us it imprisons us. Take control.
Choose to forgive. Forgive others. That is the secret of life.

Epilogue

2010-01-28T00:08:00.002-05:00

One last thing:

I was listening without judgment to a friend on the phone and then while writing the last blog entry it came to me in a flash:

We must forgive God.

I believe that everything that happened to me was part of a plan. I do not question God whereas a lot of people pin down human suffering on him. The friend felt I had overcome the diagnosis and turned it to my advantage.

Some people blame God. I do not. I've read The Way of Thomas and have come to understand that human beings are flawed and Jesus tried to get us to see the error of our ways and we rejected his teachings.

The schizophrenia: having it and being given it seems so unfair yet I don't deal in fairness. I believe I can go out and make things fair by lobbying others to choose recovery. I can help level the playing field by working as a mental health activist.

Only this too: recovery is our number-one job. It is our job to better ourselves and in so doing we make the world a better place.

Truly healing begins when we decide to love ourselves and live our lives with empathy for others.

So I urge you:

Forgive God.

Geodon Baby Blues

2010-01-27T20:32:00.004-05:00

Train is on the radio now.

This is going to be a short blog entry. I did 30 minutes on the treadmill tonight.

I'm reminded of a woman I stopped being friends with who told me: "I hope you find what you're looking for." It sounded like she was quoting U2 lyrics.

I'm not looking anymore. If this is as good as it gets so be it. So be it.

A woman must leave the era before it leaves her. I only reluctantly moved on in my mid thirties. Looking back I see it was a long road I took.

What could I tell you?

The atypical I'm on is like a miracle drug.

I don't believe your brain can change its tune quickly or even in five years or 10 years after you have a breakdown. I remember everything because I have a photographic memory. So I can tell you to wait patiently to see lasting results. The change won't come easy however it will come. I can honestly tell you that the Geodon is as close to a cure as I could ever have. Legally: I'm required at this point to tell you that no drug company pays me money or compensates me otherwise to make this claim. I'm not a spokesperson for Pfizer. Only: I'm a person who had near-miraculous success with that drug as soon as I was placed on it and over two years later it has gotten even better.

You can't expect immediate results. Also: sometimes cognitive therapy could be of benefit in conjunction with the medication. You MUST give time time to work its wonders. Nothing worth having comes without effort. I cannot tell you to give up the hope that things can change. You have to ask yourself if you fear change because in some way you might be blocked. Standing still is not an option for anyone who seeks to recover.

Do you understand what I'm trying to say? You must move forward. You must let go of the past. You must have faith even when recovery feels like a long shot.

Recovery is possible.

You might rightly ask me how I can say it took me nearly two decades to get here. You would think it isn't fair that someone has to wait that long. You would be tempted to give up and I would tell you not to settle for the status quo. I would tell you to expect a better tomorrow in a realistic way and to keep hopeful that change is possible.

Years ago I interviewed a woman who said that one day out of the blue she realized things were better. You would understand my worldview if you had walked in my shoes all these years: you would remember everything too and the details would flood your memory.

So I could pinpoint when this happened for me: when I went on the atypical.

I told a friend on the phone tonight that most people don't realize that recovery from schizophrenia is not only possible it's probable and we should reach beyond what's merely acceptable and aim for the stars instead of settling for less.

Possibly only someone with a matching set of hangers would parrot this philosophy. More likely I believe this to be true because I know one thing: memories don't lie. You're left holding the truth of what happened in your mind.

Quite frankly I'm someone for whom good enough was never good enough and I doubt good enough will ever be good enough for me. I'm like that Uncle Ben's housewife who keeps striving to cook the perfect rice that I alluded to in a previous blog entry.

So you see this is why I say it took me 20 years to cook the perfect recovery: I can remember how the schizophrenia played out in my twenties and early thirties and I know it wasn't until recently that things simmered down.

I wanted to write this blog entry to give you some hope that it isn't over until we're no longer here. Also because people with schizophrenia fight some kind of battle every day and we deserve recognition for the effort it takes to be well.

Right now I can tell you this: it gets better with time. That's all I'm saying. You cannot speed the process. Also: we cannot use external measures of success as the tape measure of how far we've come [like a career or house or car]. For someone with schizophrenia I can say my true victory came with freedom of the mind-and the Geodon gave me that freedom.

It is why I will not go back in time and continue to listen to music like the Alternate Side.

It is why I will go to my grave championing immediate intervention with medication and therapy when someone is diagnosed with schizophrenia.

It is why living in the middle appeals to me now.

You do not know the memories that brought me to this point because the details I will not share. Only know this: I have spent all my adult life living with the schizophrenia. I turn 45 in the spring. I don't want to spend the rest of my life immured to resentment or fear or anger or worry.

I propose for all of us a better way to live: with compassion and forgiveness.

It nears midnight and I will go wind down now.

Trust me: I can't get a certain memory out of my head. You might think this is a minor thing however to me it is not. And true: as the years pass we become ourselves only better. So wisdom itself is like a drug that helps us heal. We gain the insight and a light bulb goes off in our head.

I think I'm going to have a huge electric bill this month.

Peace out.

The Sea

2010-01-27T13:00:00.004-05:00

Last night:
I fell asleep after 1 a.m. I cranked out work until midnight. Not good. I swam around in the music like I was colliding with atoms. This search might take some time: the shedding of my belief system and exposing new ideas for how to live.

One thing I know: I'm not a fan of the Alternate Side. That kind of music no longer holds an allure for me. Other things have fallen by the wayside too. I would rather listen to "Crash"by Dave Matthews Band than crashing noise.

Change is the order of the day. I would rather listen to vocalists or see a folk band perform in a coffeehouse. Keeping ordinary time is a thing of beauty. Living your life out of synch with the world can be frightening indeed. Finding common ground with others is the way to recover successfully. Always maintain a positive spirit. You can recover. You can have a life equal to the kind of life you want to live.

I choose not to go back in time. Some of us cannot move away from the past even though it has ended. I imagine a woman who dresses in a previous decade or pines for her party days sitting alone at her kitchen table dancing on the edge of a knife.

Do you see how it is? I seek to surround myself with beautiful things: to hear good music to dress in style to do good works. It is a life ethic. You will not recover if you live with a poverty of spirit. So you choose life.

Noise is not life-whether in your head or your iPod-noise takes you away from your center. That is the way I see it. I would like to obtain a quote about music that I can use in JM to express its passionate core.

You see for five days I've been struggling with this tug-of-war: how much of yourself do you let go of and what happens when you have to make a wholesale life change like a sea change? Swimming towards the horizon towards a new day you strive to accept that you will quake and shake leaving that other world behind.

The decision to forsake the Alternate Side wasn't hard. Embracing the replacement was easy: a life outside of the limelight lived in a quiet routine of ordinary days dressed in foolproof outfits.

As a young person I thought my life was about the music. It defined me along with the clothes I wore and the friends I kept. How did I give that up? The universe forced my hand. God had a plan for my life that I only realized when I was 35: to be in service to others.

Does it sound like I'm making a judgment? I understand a lot of people flirt with the alternative life even today. They listen to strange music and get off on being weird and dying their hair green and wearing combat boots. That is their prerogative and I wouldn't take it away from them. Most of those people live in Billyburg now. I wonder who among us 1980s folk chose to go down the road I have: to abandon their love of the weird.

In some ways it's all a marketing ploy to sell products: manic panic hair dye and piercings are industries too. How could a person profess to be creative if she's merely following what everybody else is doing? In a roomful of pierced noses you're hardly original.

Also: you might think I'm being critical of that way of life and that's OK. I realize there's no glory in living smack in the middle when acting strange is adored and glorified. Am I telling you that the middle is where I want to be? Well yes. Not on the fringe or the margin or the right or the far left though I will always be progressive in my politics. Funny how championing the underdog is looked down upon in certain circles.

In the 1980s: I knew a woman who wore a button that proclaimed Be different. Act normal. A counterpoint to that decade's dysfunctional decorum. The words on that pin are as relevant now as they were circa 1985. The Bowling for Soup song about 1985 says it all.

Today I'm bowling for normalcy.

High Tide

2010-01-26T20:04:00.004-05:00

Tonight's soundtrack: the Alternate Side via streaming audio on the Internet.

I suspect I can't listen to 90.7 FM on HD-3 [the Alternate Side all the time] because 90.7 FM comes in on my HD radio in analog station format. So I've been listening to this new music program from my computer.

Today's dilemma: I have yet to find a radio station station as good as radio sophie that broadcasts out of San Diego. The last time I tuned in to them via their website the streaming audio shut off after ten or fifteen minutes. This weekend I will see if I'm able to listen to radio sophie now. It is a beautiful radio station that plays Pink and the Red Hot Chili Peppers and India.Arie and Amy Winehouse. No strange music or rap or classic rock or heavy metal which is why I love it: the songs they play are upbeat and uplifting.

This weekend: I've spent the last three days in memory of that musical road I traveled down. I admire the brave young girl who chose music over madness and lived to conquer her schizophrenia by marching to her own drummer.

Each one of us will have our day in the sun.

Listening to the modern rock I feel such hope stirring inside me. Do I worry I won't find someone who understands my beat?

Music changes the chemistry of a person's brain. Why does this force act in a profound way-my search for good music to listen to? The musical landscape has changed.

Earlier in Starbucks I bought the Corinne Bailey Rae CD The Sea and I like her song "Paris Nights - New York Mornings." She is a Grammy winner that has her own style-I wouldn't call it jazz or blues or smooth-she is an original.

OK: I switched over to radio sophie via the Internet and I hope it will not shut off this time around. To be honest I like it much better than the Alternate Side.

Also: WFMU is too unusual for my liking although it is one of the pre-set stations on my new radio. I used to like some of the FMU disc jockeys in the 1990s like Bill Kelly on Sunday afternoons. He played good 1960s rock not the same pablum you'd hear on CBS FM.

Now Lenny Kravitz is on the radio and he suits me just fine. I really like his music. I have a compilation CD circa 1990 with his song "Mr. Cabdriver" that talked about how cab drivers would not stop to pick him up in New York City. I would hope that nonsense doesn't happen anymore.

I'm not the same person I was all those years ago. As long as I take the medication my brain is compensated so that it can act like a normal brain. I'm no longer in love with the weird: be it fashion or music. I dance in the light now.

So I wonder: would I tone down my ambition if I met someone? Unwittingly lose myself? I sure hope not. That is how I recovered: I found my voice. O. is not intimidated by me and has expressed admiration for everything I do.

I would like to buy the Rihanna CD Good Girl Gone Bad. She looks so beautiful on the cover. Also the India.Arie CD with the song "Therapy" on it.

Music has been for me a life force and forgive me if I come back to this ethic again and again in here. Does anyone else feel the same way?

Right now U2 is on radio sophie. I always like to listen to U2. They are to me classic rock because I came of age with the band in the 1980s. Bono is a great humanitarian in his own right. I will listen to the streaming audio until it's time to wind down for the night.

Have I been going around and around in here about this?

It is like I've wanted to reconcile then and now and have been musing on this lately. Now is the time for my memoir to be published. My story needs to be read.

I've decided to be okay with how I live my life. Certainly I'm not a strange girl though I've professed to be one numerous times in JM. That is why I have given up on the Alternate Side after twenty minutes. People change and that is a good thing. I'm unconventional not a non-conformist. That is how it is: my quirky brain-the one that tripped me up-is also capable of beautiful thoughts and words that inspire people.

I have put too fine a point on it with fashion as well via the idea that being ill-groomed is a way of putting yourself down. The connection between my loosening mind and my unkempt wardrobe I feel was significant also. It was the same way with the music: I was pulled down into the vortex of noise as my mind erupted into chaos.

The tide has gone out on that life.

Am I the only one obsessed with finding good music to listen to?

I want to meet someone who would understand this devotion.

The psychic said I would meet a lot of turkeys. She told me: "You're a diamond not a rhinestone." Even if I had the best turkey detector I understand that sometimes you have to practice with the turkeys before you find someone who is true blue.

Alicia Keys is on radio sophie now.

I will listen for maybe ten or fifteen minutes longer and then go work on my second job. So far the streaming audio has not shut off and I'm glad. I'm in heaven now.

Log on to www.radiosophie.com and click on listen if you want to hear what I consider to be the best radio station out there.

I will leave you now to either scratch your head in wonder or pull the cord as the light bulb goes off in your head. I'm hoping you can relate to my quest.

Good night.

Like the Weather

2010-01-25T13:24:00.004-05:00

"Do the thing you think you cannot do."

Eleanor Roosevelt

She was the Queen of Quotes. I have that quote magnet stuck to my refrigerator door along with her other quote: "Do one thing every day that scares you."

It has come to this: change or die. To not change would be to wither. My mantra for this year is "Have fun."

I do not want to go out in the rain. I've been holed up listening to the radio like it's the end of the world. I can't resist listening to WRXP even though the disc jockeys [all guys] don't have a clue. I listen like a thief stealing the good music and waiting out the duds because unfortunately there are too many duds.

Music: I've been listening to the FM radio since I was 12. As a sophomore in high school I listened to college radio. I listened to WSIA and WFMU when I was a teen though all the other girls would go dancing at the Park Villa on a Saturday night. I stayed home listening to the music. I loved the underground life because it was there I felt like I was accepted: a glorious misfit who did not have to pretend she was someone other than who she was.

Well: reflecting on then and now I don't feel like the odd girl out. I could be different and that doesn't matter to me after all these years because I don't covet other people's approval. It is lovely to have the option. Living your life left of the dial is as much an attitude as it is a lifestyle. You can live in the mainstream and still do your own thing. That is why I have this apartment: living solo I can listen to the radio and answer to no one. I answer only to God.

This irony: that by all outward appearances I fit in and OK I do value this because it has enabled me to branch out as a mental health activist. Were I still composed in garish theater makeup and dressed in odd clothes I could not do what I do because I would not be taken seriously. You join the world ultimately so that you can do your own thing. To be closed off to others is not healthy: isolating in your apartment or lying on the couch all day watching those Gilligan's Island re-runs. You reach out because you need other people in order to achieve your goals. You cannot go it alone for the rest of your life.

It is not a point of pride for me to feel I'm different. I put too fine a point on it talking all the time about my left of the dial philosophy. You must understand that you can live in the mainstream and at the same time live your life left of the dial. You couldn't really be a strange girl and be in other people's face about your weirdness. That's how I see it: I don't get off on being different.

It comes down to this: you and I must act as if we deserve respect in order to command a good kind of attention. You will not always be respected by everyone despite your best effort to model self-respect. That is not something to be concerned with. You just have to reject the stigma. You do that by joining the world. You act with courage to take risks to better yourself in your recovery. You do it for yourself and if accidentally others approve of you that is an unintended side effect.

Oh: in the other blog entry I touched on this: feelings of self-doubt that could creep up. The antidote is to be true to yourself so that you can attract other people into your life who will admire you for who you are. You don't have to be rich. You don't have to be the CEO of a corporation. You just have to be you.

So be true and be you.

Let the sun shine in your heart on this rainy day.

"A sunnier disposition has nothing to do with the weather" - to quote a Liz Claiborne print ad.

Cheers.

Rant

2010-01-25T12:52:00.003-05:00

Hello morning.

The woman at the Pearl Paint (800) number did not see that my order went through when I bought the table top easel online. I had told her I received no confirmation and the order seemed to disappear after I hit the submit button. So she took my information over the phone and I have an order number and I should get the easel shortly. Not immediately because it is shipped from the manufacturer. At least it was that easy to buy it over the phone so now I can wait patiently for the easel to arrive.

Today it rains. I can hear the cars slush down the street.

I've grown disenchanted with the FM radio already. I pre-set six radio stations: WRXP [rock], WKCR [jazz], WSIA [billed as alternative yet it plays mostly rock], WBGO [jazz out of Newark, NJ], WFMU [free-form] and WNYE [public radio plus music].

The 1980s were the heyday of college radio. WSIA is a sad radio station now because there are no disc jockeys and the song selections are boring. I listened to WFMU for awhile however the disc jockey talked like his mouth was full of cotton and every other word out of his mouth was uh and um. I realize WFMU prides itself on being unusual however I expect a level of professionalism even still. The disc jockey on WRXP last night also spoke atrociously with a mouthful of uhs and ums. I don't get it. Now if you want to hear poetry listen to Awilda Rivera on WBGO at night because she knows how to speak.

When people talk to me and they talk poorly I always feed back what they said with the correct grammar. I mirror what they say only I say it the way you're supposed to say it. Nobody knows I'm correcting their grammar in a subtle way. It's something I do to counteract what I hear coming out of people's mouths.

The point of having an HD radio is so that you can get stations you previously couldn't listen to. It does for sound what HD images do for TV. So that is why I can now tune in to WNYE, WSIA and WFMU whereas before I was lucky if I could. Though listening to WSIA is so sad now because it's like they're playing some kind of pre-programmed audio tapes that spit out music and you have no idea what the song titles and artists are even if you did want to buy what you hear. It is so sad.

The thing about WFMU is that it's 2010 and the disc jockeys there should get over playing discordant music. I wish there was a happy medium between WRXP and WFMU. I don't want to hear AC/DC on the radio. I want to hear only modern rock or what's called alternative. WRXP only has male disc jockeys which also irritates me. Take the cotton out of your mouth and speak properly fellas.

When I hear a person speak with perfect diction and grammar it is a thing of beauty and I'm in love with the sound of their voice. I cannot believe that even college-educated people fall down in the grammar department.

If I hear ain't got no and don't have no one more time I'm going to scream. Is it too much to ask that someone speak eloquently? Those disc jockeys are being paid good money and it is their job so they should learn how to speak or be sent to a voice coach.

That is all I can tell you in here. I will sign off and go write a separate entry that is not a rant.

Cheers.

Tambourine Blues

2010-01-24T16:41:00.004-05:00

On the radio:

The Pearl Jam song "Just Breathe" is slow and beautiful and it was on the radio now. I listen to 101.9 FM WRXP sometimes even though it plays too much classic rock-n-roll for my liking. I also heard "And She Was" by the Talking Heads and danced to it in my bedroom making sure not to be loud on the hardwood floor.

I was able to set the alarm clock to wake me at 9:00 AM. You can program the alarm to wake you up to music on your iPod. I've decided to hold off on upgrading to a 10,000-song iPod. I bought mine nine years ago it was the original Nano and only holds 500 songs. Since then the technology has become better and you can buy an iPod with 10,000 songs for $250-what I paid for mine.

I wear my navy cotton skullcap today because I'm having a bad hair day. I wear that and the mocha lipstick and my tee-shirt and gray lounge pants. This was the going-to-do-laundry outfit. When I was done I slept for three hours in the afternoon.

Alas: I'm not a big thrift store fan. I washed a pair of navy Dockers and placed then in the donations bag. I don't like how they fit even though they're petite because there is too much fabric in the seat.

______________________________

Last night I listened to Matt Pinfield's radio show for four hours and he played cool music. I listened to the modern rock and wrote in the journal with my tee shirt and skull cap on wearing my black-rimmed eyeglasses and I wondered: what guy would understand me? A guy on e-Harmony once closed off his contact with me because we were incompatible. He was divorced with two kids and liked to play pool in his spare time and I attended and performed at poetry readings and was a little too counterculture for his taste.

So that is what I do: keep a journal and listen to modern rock and go about my life in a young at heart way. 5'0" tall and I could blow like a leaf in the wind I'm so petite. Thus I couldn't date someone who smothered me. That just isn't happening.

Sometimes I feel things in my bones. I wrote in the journal last night that my stomach was shaking like a tambourine. Another time I wrote that my stomach felt like an aquarium. What guy would want to romance a girl who lives her life left of the dial? It's not unusual for me to come up with such evocative images.

I once bought a teal shirt that on the website was called aquarium.

This is how I live my life: in living color. I don't want to just be here now. I want to be here passionately.

The Tiger ex just didn't get this.

Well: I don't have that kind of energy to order what I do around pleasing other people. I don't covet mainstream acceptance. It's a point of pride that I live my life left. Even though I've achieved success in the world that doesn't matter because it all comes down to this: living in my own apartment listening to modern rock on the radio on a Saturday night and writing in a journal.

With a few changed words to the Bob Dylan song I listened to last night:

Hey Ms. Tambourine Woman play a song for me in the jingle jangle morning.

D. once said we have a different way of seeing things. That most likely accounts for this: my way with language-the written word and the spoken word.

Oh: do you understand? Do you believe other people would understand?

As much as how far I've come my inner child is that young girl who feels she doesn't quite fit in. America is comprised of 95 percent Traditional women and I'm a Classic with a Trendy accent so that is most likely why I feel I go left when everyone else goes right.

You turn 45 soon and are grateful you no longer compare yourself to others like when you were a teen and envied the young girls who could afford both a leather jacket and a cloth coat in the winter. Your self-doubt was a thorn under your skin. You gradually drew away from everyone and retreated into your poetry and your music.

You could feel the music.

At an early age you boxed with your demons and left them down for the count.

That is all that matters now:

I live by the truth.

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty."

Keats

53, or The Ultimate Cure for Sadness

2010-01-23T10:27:00.010-05:00

"Red is the ultimate cure for sadness." - Bill Blass

Imagine: we fashion ourselves through clothes. Years ago a woman in Harper's Bazaar talked about being so depressed she had to clear out her closet and start from scratch with a new wardrobe. The end of the article: "Who am I today? Scarlet perhaps."

Like for any of us her psychiatrist knew she was getting better when her clothes were on the upswing too. I once on a day pass bought a pair of plaid walking shorts to wear on the ward as if to impress the staff. Certainly even today this is the antidote to the schizophrenia blues: fashion.

Consider taking photos of your clothes before you throw them out if you need a reminder of yourself instead of keeping on hand outdated expressions.

Suddenly now I remember my black Einsterzwende Neubaten tee shirt with the gold and red figure on it; the Sonic Youth tee shirt with the Roy Lichenstein graphics; the black Siouxsie tee with her face silk screened on it in white.

My self at 22: a chalked slate with a menu of longings in a far from the beaten path life. To travel to Greece. To be the different drummer other people marched to. The words written in my journal circa 1985: I want to hold my life up as a candle to other people who flounder. How could I have known even then? Two years before my breakdown? 25 years ago. I struggled with silent words scrawled at 3 a.m. That is how I met myself: in the pages of my diary.

It was all I had as a defense against the oncoming SZ: my words. I attended a journal workshop circa 2000 where a woman wrote: Truth is the sword of us all. Those words stayed with me.

My truth is justice as well as beauty: I recovered. That is how you change the world: you change your life. "Nothing succeeds like success" to quote a newspaper article on fighting stigma.

Though I keep time with others who are not on the same page as truly we are the one. A person could not accept me and not accept others. I consider recovery a package deal.

________________________

Red IS the ultimate cure for sadness.

As I began to make my way in the world I started to wear red. Before: I had a strong aversion to the color. Then: in college I bought a cotton red shirt with pockets. The brand was Gasoline if memory serves. I bought it in a store in the Woodbridge Mall. It was my favorite shirt and ever since then I haven't been without red in my closet. I now have a red jacket with big round silver buttons and the red military jacket as well as the red hooded sweater with toggles and the limited edition hand-stitched red J.Jill sweater that is number 53.

One of the cashmere tees I bought was rich red: so there you go sadness.

Now a dose of the blues every so often I submit could happen to anyone. My first published article talked about doing spring cleaning in January to beat the winter blues. It ended by saying that when we clear our minds of negative thoughts "we can imagine instead of agonize; we can do instead of dream."

Long before: I was a woman who even then sought to inspire people even though she was restricted. I judge whether it's better today by the kinds of jobs I have. That is the ultimate test of the cure. Once I told someone that the atypical I'm on was as close to a cure as I could possible have. Others criticized me for using the word cure.

I stand by my words.

Some people claim the drugs are mind control or that people who are homeless should have the right to be homeless. That the drugs don't work. I would love to see a poster of my face in an airport with the slogan: treatment works.

Treatment works. Red works too.

Tootles.

Victory

2010-01-23T00:23:00.002-05:00

Good grief: it took me an hour yet I was able to upload photos from the new digital camera to my computer and then upload them to JM. The prints are new and so are the gold drapes which did not appear in the original photos I uploaded with the old camera.

The new camera allows me to shoot video. I hope to upload video interviews to the Connection sometime in the future.

Well: it is 12:25 AM by my computer clock.

Let me go sign off and view the blog to see how the photos look.

Cheers.

Shine

2010-01-21T10:53:00.006-05:00

Time changes us.

I'm reading another gorgeous book by Mary Karr: Lit-her latest memoir. She is a prose stylist nonpareil. I'm also wrapping up Traveling with Pomegranates at home. I will read Lit on the train. Next up I want to read Picture Perfect by Jodi Picoult. Yes: I judge books by their covers and the copy on the book flap and then the words within. Picture Perfect has a yellow cover that beckons one to read the book.

You need to give time time.

I could not tell you about this. I feel what I do is just something I do. It is not miraculous. I do it to be well. Health is one of my core values thus I'm committed to a positive lifestyle. I would tell anyone who does not value their health not to make themselves miserable aspiring to be a gym rat. It might seem incredulous that someone would not want to eat healthful foods or exercise however this is how I see it: it's an individual choice.

I would give others a wide latitude in how they live their life even if it's not how I would act. As a young woman I learned what I would and would not do by seeing how other people acted. Their behavior was a litmus test: the shoe polish-haired men whose breath smelled of reefer on the Ferry. The morning women in mini skirts exiting the boat to go to some kind of job [in a mini skirt? that I did not understand]. The woman on the 3 a.m. Alice Austen telling us our fortunes. The young mother cutting into her daughter with cruel words. The father telling his son to get off the floor because your dad's not a washing machine. The folk singer strumming her guitar and singing on the boat every weekend for 15 years rising up every year like a new moon to greet the passengers. The shoe shine guys yelling out "Shine!" though no one ever took them up on the offer. You could learn a lot about people by commuting on a ferry every day.

Time changes us.

I'm sure glad the pages turned on that nomad's life: traveling from Saturday to Saturday with lipstick and a $20 bill. Your version of the world could fit into your purse when you are young. The Coerrs song about being so young resonated with me and I would play their Live In Dublin CD often when I moved to my first apartment.

Now: I will scan my CDs and see which ones I can donate to the Salvation Army along with the clothes and the housewares.

Do not be afraid to leave your old life behind: the new one is an empty bucket you can fill with hope and a thousand dazzling memories to carry yourself through.

Always dream big. I dream a world without stigma which I know is an impossible goal. A friend told me once: "So maybe your purpose here in this lifetime is to fight stigma."

Bono in a song on the U2 album The Dream Come True proclaims that all it takes is "three chords and the truth." I wrote about this in a blog entry here a couple of years ago.

You could log onto http://www.schizoaffectiveartist.com/ to read the blog of a woman who posted comments to JM. BlogSpot used to have a feature where it would stream the URLs of its blogs at the moment they were updated so that you could click on them and read whatever tickled your fancy. Where has that feature gone?

Alas: I bought the table top easel and received no confirmation yet so I'm not sure the order went through. Last night I was twitchy from boredom and told myself: "Do it-order the easel- or you'll just procrastinate again." So the purchase is in some kind of cyber limbo.

My article "The Dating Game" appears in the Fall 2009 New York City Voices advocacy journal that I only received in my mailbox today. It lists my Top 10 Tips for a First Date.

Will write an article about turning 45 for the winter 2010 issue. Most people write about turning 40 or 50 yet 45 is significant in its own way.

The time when I was so young is gone.

All I have is today. That is all any of us have.

Enjoy.

Blue Shoes

2010-01-20T12:31:00.005-05:00

So young.

The Coerr's song about being "so young" flashes through my mind now as I remember how young I was when I had the breakdown. Luckily I had my whole life before me and I dreamed of a better life. That is how it was to be so young and in love with the underground. Watching obscure bands at CBGB. Trawling Second Avenue street vendors at 2 a.m. So young. You know nothing of your life and how it will turn out.

I wonder about that: do you lose yourself? You can reclaim her. I pined for the gregarious me when my life was on hold. It was a pit stop. I've decided to freeze the memories in time and not look back. You do not know at 22 what is possible. The memories are dim now and don't carry the weight they once did. We'd go to Millard Fillmore's-a restaurant-and talk late into the night over Blooming Onions. Or hang out in each other's houses watching videos and eating Chinese food or pizza.

So young. Perhaps when I begin to write fiction I will write about that time. A dozen ideas come to me now. I kid you not I have seen my life flash before my eyes and it is all good. I have a list of decade-by-decade goals I want to accomplish. I have a five-year plan.

The miles I walked down a dusty cocoa road. Was I sleepwalking? Dancing along the edge of life in my blue shoes. You do not know. You do not know where the line on the horizon leads so far away it is.

Even today I am still a girl: a young girl inside my heart.

I feel the pull to speed miles ahead and break out into the mainstream in a bigger way.

Today I dined at Yaffa Cafe with a friend. I walked so fast heading back to Broadway that my shins hurt. Once I arrived home I fiddled with the new digital camera until I was successful. That seems my mode of living: until I'm successful. I was not going to quit until I figured out what was wrong and sure enough I made it right.

Now I'm all set to have pictures taken of me in various outfits for the image consultant to review. Oh heck: I used to waver between then and now and wonder if it were any better back then. On a night like tonight I know it is better now in a different way.

D. once told me I brought my A game when we gave a talk. I would like to bring my A game to everything I do. That is how competitive I am. I compete against myself and no one else. I'm not content to settle or to rest on my laurels.

The friend was amazed I had my life planned out. She is young herself and kind and beautiful: a brave soul.

You have to give time time to work its wonders.

Well: I had the melted mudd cake for dessert with whipped cream.

You do not know when you are younger that one day you will be sitting in Yaffa Cafe having the mudd cake and talking about O. You do not know you have it in you to wait patiently until you figure out how to upload photos to a computer.

You listened to the AM radio that your aunt screeched was acid rock and so she turned the station to Golden Oldies driving in the car: Doo Wop.

You wrote an article in the school paper about how you loved rock-n-roll and the little fish-faced girl who loved disco pushed you to the ground and said disco rules.

Your remember all of this because you have a vivid memory as clear as the 12.2 mega pixel camera.

What next?

how now.

One day at a time.

Life rules.

Dare Beautiful Girl

2010-01-19T09:26:00.002-05:00

Today I go to the gym and do 30 minutes on the treadmill.

I gave my friend the bag of wooden hangers and I still have two bags of hangers to donate to the Salvation Army along with the other stuff. I have four bags to send to Sal's and would like to do that early next week.

The woman who gave me the reading told me that when I was in my late forties I would be faced with a decision and the choice would be mine to make.

I went to the coffeehouse with O. last night and then we stayed in Starbuck's talking until nine o'clock. I'm kind of cool and haven't revealed much about my experiences living with the schizophrenia. I understand all too well how it is when you strive for some kind of professional career and then you get sick and have to do what it takes just to stay healthy. The woman said he likes me because I'm enthusiastic and a good listener and I smile. She said I have a beautiful smile. Two people independently over the years told me I have a smile that could light up a room.

The lyrics to that song come into my head about not hurrying love because you just have to wait and that it doesn't come easy because it's a game of give and take. Who sang that song? Phil Collins? It was popular years ago.

Today I finish the organizing project. I would like in March to hire the painter to come paint the inside of the closet. Most likely he will charge only $100 dollars though he might not come to do such a small job. Every day when I open the closet to choose my clothes I want to feel good looking inside it.

The young girl came yesterday to clean my apartment and I tipped her $15. While she was here I and the friend browsed the shops. Ana reminded me that it is Type A to be obsessed with having matching hangers.

Ana also said something interesting when we compared notes about our psychic readings. The woman said I lacked confidence in myself and I told my friend that it doesn't matter if you lack confidence because as long as you persist and keep taking action you'll gain confidence and achieve what you set out to do.

Ana commented in an astute way that people who are confident could tend not to be inspired to challenge themselves because they're satisfied with how things are. She believed people who had self-doubt were motivated to prove they could do something so kept trying to better themselves.

I believe this is true: people who are confident with how their lives are playing out could see no reason to change things whereas people for whom good enough isn't good enough will always strive for perfection. The Uncle Ben's rice advertisement [in which their spokesperson is now chairman of the board] said something to the effect that perfection cannot be obtained however you should keep trying.

That's why some people aren't satisfied with things the way things are and strive to continually improve themselves.

I look at my inspiration board now with pictures of modern Classic outfits on it and the profile of Audrey Hepburn and the dog tags that spell out dare beautiful girl. Would love to post a photo of O. on it.

I wish I could have the woman come every month to clean however it is expensive. I can live with a little dust however I cannot live in a mess.

Would love to invite O. to my birthday party. I'll use the HD radio to provide a radio station for the music soundtrack. Will serve pizza and toast 45 with champagne.

______________________________

Good night.

Perfect Day

2010-01-16T09:00:00.010-05:00

Today it rains. The cars rush down the street outside. I've come home from running errands. A sad day when it rains like this.

The afternoon project:

Sorting and hanging the clothes in the bedroom closet. I would like to paint the inside of that closet Benjamin Moore's Peppermint. One can of paint should do.

The blonde wood hangers will complement the pink walls should I get the closet painted. In the spring I will replace the fall shirts with the warm weather ones stored in the under bed box. I have just two under bed boxes for out of season pants and shirts. It always amazes me that some people have so much stuff that they need to vacuum everything into those frightful space bags sold on TV commercials.

It's possible I'd have more hanging space in the closet if I had one long rod from which I could hang my clothes left to right. In the closet now I have two separate rods on each side of the closet running from front to back. The closet is wider than it is deeper so I'm convinced the space is wasted in the middle. I could paint the walls and use wallpaper on the back wall. On the hat shelf above the rods I store my clear hat boxes and a Liz Claiborne tote I so rarely use now. On the floor I store the shoes on the shoe rack.

To me organizing and making things neat is as close to beauty as you could get.

Right now I would like to buy a blue boucle skirt I saw in a shop and if I did I would consider donating an old winter skirt to the Salvation Army. The zipper on the skirt was tricky when I tried it on the other day so I would ask for a discount on top of the half off price.

Today in a store the cashier asked if I wanted to add a dollar to the sale to help provide aid for the people in Haiti and I told her yes. I imagine that most people will do that when given the opportunity.

I finished writing chapter three of my second book. The woman who gave me the reading said she saw my memoir being published however it would take a long time to find an agent who was receptive to publishing a book on the topic of schizophrenia. She knew I would ultimately find an agent because she said she saw the second step: the book being published.

Would love to publish the books and become a motivational speaker and ditch my day job. Alas: that is not realistic as I want to keep my health insurance.

One can dream.

______________________________

A friend and I went back to the shop and the owner called another store to send over the skirt in my size. I tried on a black satin dress with a sweetheart neckline and it looked ugly on me plus didn't fit so I placed it back on the rack. The blue skirt was a size 8 and it was too big on me even though it was wool.

I feel sad about the schizophrenia tonight. I have long since stopped being angry about what happened. Right now I feel a little sad.

Retail therapy helps. Today I bought a pair of gold suede ballet slippers I can wear with the new skirt. I will wear the outfit on Friday when I meet a friend after work.

You roll with life. You walk on. You trust your instinct.

Life will continue from here. You have to let life be your guide and not seek divine intervention. What you want will come to you if you have faith. You just have to believe.

Dealing with the uncertainty is hard. It is hard to let go of the need to be in control. You might not be certain of what the future holds and that is OK. You must embrace the uncertainty and welcome the not knowing.

When all else fails: I believe in the power of a gorgeous skirt to transform my life.

Aftertune

2010-01-14T19:00:00.004-05:00

Hello.

You can log on to www.whitehouse.gov and click on the link on that website to donate money to Haiti via the Red Cross. I sure hope my $40 gets there because even though it's a drop in the bucket I wanted to do something.

Today I had the dry cleaner hem my new black pants and jogging pants. The jacket that came with the track suit I didn't get hemmed as the sleeves are not too long. That is all I did today.

I'm back to form: earlier I replaced the shirt hangers in my winter closet with a matching set that was lying on the floor in the foyer closet. Now I have a big shopping bag full of blonde wood hangers of various stripes suit skirt shirt and a friend is going to take them when I see her next. She reminded me that I'm Type A because who else but a true Type A personality would have matching hangers in her closet? That was my intent in switching the hangers: to make sure everything matched. A little obsessive, no?

Today I went in a shop and bought a sunny yellow scarf that is already tied that I can slip around my neck in the spring and summer. I can wear it with a black tee shirt and white pants. Where would I be able to buy white pants for summer? I suddenly want a pair of white pants because I can visualize this outfit in my mind.

That's how obsessed I am folks. I will put this item on the wish list for the image consultant to track down. She will give me the URLs or store locations where I can buy the items she recommends.

Why not? 45 truly is the "oh, hell" birthday. I'm reading Traveling with Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor. The author of The Secret Life of Bees and her daughter alternate chapters in this book written when her daughter graduated college and she turned 50. I want my mother to read this book too. All women should read this gorgeous book. I cried at times because I felt that with a slightly different change of circumstance Sue Monk Kidd could be talking about my mother and me.

Turning 50 you begin the Crone or Wise Woman years. Sue Monk Kidd mused on the loss of her fertility and the loss of her daughter who was becoming her own person and struggling to make her way in the world. The daughter is depressed after she gets a rejection letter from the school where she wanted to study Greek culture.

Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Taylor Kidd in the book are traveling in Greece months before the 50-year old begins writing The Secret Life of Bees. Imagine: 50 beckons. Yes I will re-invent myself again then. I have six years left. Okay? Do you understand? Each of those years I'm going to travel somewhere far away beginning this spring.

I wish I could tell you that life is nothing but blue skies and I cannot.

What I can tell you: you have the choice in how you respond to your trials.

Age with grace. There is nothing beautiful about a woman who is sad to be herself wrinkled and old. Hettie Jones wrote about this in her poem "Aftertune" that closes out her poetry book Drive. It is about "a crone in the marshes singing and singing." I love that book of poetry. Hettie Jones memoir How I Became Hettie Jones is also a great book about her marriage to Leroi Jones and life in the Beat Generation in 1950s and 1960s New York City. I met Hettie at a poetry event and she was impressed that I had bought and read her memoir. How could I not? I judged that book by its colorful red-and-yellow cover with her before-and-after photos and the inside did not disappoint. She went from pearls and a silk dress to gypsy earrings and a richly lived emotional and musical life. From a teacup college to the heart of the counterculture.

I'm reminded of an aunt whose birthday party I attended when she turned 80. I had given her an amethyst necklace not knowing purple was her favorite color and she was all aflutter over the necklace. More interestingly: she told us she looked forward to each new year that she got a chance to live. She looked the image of youth even in her late age. I remember her words now and tell myself this is what I must do: celebrate the life I live every year. Our birthdays are not endings they are the beginning of the next chapter in our life. We get to decide how we want to respond to the years.

Always be kind to yourself and gentle. Strive to maintain a positive spirit even in the face of hard times. It serves us no purpose to worry because worrying doesn't make us feel any better. Optimism inoculates us from full-blown depression. I was always lucky I could pick myself up.

I would not spend $20K or however much it costs on that miracle LifeStyle Lift surgery to take 10 years off my face. Once the face goes then your breasts go and everything else and it could take lots of money and effort and exhaust you trying to fix every part of you that you negate.

Celebrate: don't negate.

Life your life. Love your life.

Be grateful for what you have and what God has given you.

You have the right to make beautiful music in your golden years.

Sing it baby.

Organization by Design

2010-01-13T22:06:00.003-05:00

OK:

I will be able to obtain the virtual consulting with a woman at Organization By Design.

Funny I have a new rule: only wear red or black shirts with jeans. Today I wore the soft worn Loft pair with the cashmere long tee shirt and the black jacket over that and the patent loafers.

My indispensable staple is the 3-pack of black socks you can buy in Rite Aid on the cheap. I bought two 3-packs last night. I get such a zing out of those socks.

Monday morning I buy the table top easel. I visualize in my mind a painting called Optimism done in yellow and orange oil paints. My goal is not to become a good artist [though that could happen with practice]. The goal is to relax and enjoy myself in my apartment-sure to be the hub of my creativity in this 3 Personal Year.

Alas: I fear Loft won't have any sweaters left if I go on Tuesday to redeem one of the gift cards. I'm still iffy on the purple wool turtleneck: do I donate it to the Salvation Army or do I get it cleaned and keep it?

My friend signed on to take pictures of me in outfits for the look book. We do this in early February. I'll treat her to dinner in return. We can make a night of it.

Forgive me: tonight I am sad about the earthquake in Haiti so I want to see if I can donate money to the Red Cross or to another relief agency specifically to help the people there. I will try to keep upbeat as I continue this blog entry. It just seems so unfair about the lack of equality in how people live: Haiti is one of the poorest countries if not the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.

I feel angry that some people in the U.S. think their self-worth or their standing in society is determined by their material possessions when some people in the world would be grateful to have a bowl of soup and clean bed linens.

How could one not be moved by the images on the New York Times website? This tragedy affects everyone in the world. I worry it will be business as usual until the next natural disaster or act of human cruelty.

What would a child in Haiti know of a digital camera or iPod dock? I realize I'm fortunate that on Monday morning I can buy both of those things.

I feel-this is not right-that some people live in poverty.

It seems wrong to covet a new sweater when I most likely could do without one and use the gift cards for something else.

I do not have the right to anything except food clothing shelter. It is an accident of fate that I was born in America. That gives me the duty to be aware that my fortune comes at a cost.

Luckily I'm able to keep my clothes in good condition and they last for years and years so it's not like I'm a spendthrift and buy new things all the time.

Sometimes I think of this:

That if I were able to have kids I wouldn't let them eat candy and I'd serve them fruits and vegetables. I would teach my kids respect and to treat every living being with dignity. I would travel with them so they could witness other cultures.

The schizophrenia took that away from me. It is the greater consolation I believe that the people in the world are my children.

Today I have decided to always live conscious of the choices I make and how they affect other people as well as their effect on me.

You cannot be blind: I want to shake the ignorant and say Look: the whole of compassion lies in seeing what goes on and deciding to act.

I flip-flop in JM between the frivolous and the serious possibly because I'm a woman of contradictions. Yet I will not judge other people for the choices they've made and the lives they lead. I have only so much energy to give to my own recovery and that is all I have. So in my mid-thirties I knew I would not have kids in this lifetime.

Other things I can hope for: to find someone who I can look out into the world with and be on the same page. To walk together down this road.

Momentarily I have succumbed to the urge to live an ascetic life as if in defense of my good fortune. More likely I will always be aware of the suffering of others.

So please understand if I talk to you of socks and mundane bliss.

I could drink my tears tonight they flow so freely.

It is time to segue into something else that you're accustomed to:

I will ask the image consultant to give me suggestions as to where I could buy a pair of jeans that I'll actually look good in that aren't low rise and don't look grungy.

Oh no: I cannot continue in this vein. Not tonight when so many children go without shoes or other basic necessities.

Wait for me to return this weekend in a more cheerful mood.

Tonight I am grateful for this:
I can afford to buy a 3-pack of black socks.

You do not know how it cheers me to organize those socks in the plastic bin in the drawer so that I'm able to choose a pair every day.

Socks.

I rest my case.

Froth

2010-01-12T14:36:00.008-05:00

Alas:

I do not see Oliver this week.

Tonight I have the shrimp parmigiana with a side of broccoli for dinner. It was a mistake not to have a salad for lunch because now I'm fatigued. All I had was a container of raspberries.

I've been wearing the black cashmere long sleeve tee shirt under my green wool jacket. Miraculously I found the black cotton-lycra turtleneck that I figured I'd discarded. It was bunched up on the bottom drawer of my dresser. Today I wear the turtleneck with my purple wool cardigan and I'm hot hot hot in the room where I am. would love to take off the cardigan. Luckily I found the turtleneck because now I can wear it in the spring with jeans or a short skirt and with the wood-and-metal circle necklace I bought in the Fashion Valley Mall in San Diego. The Something Silver store also had a bead necklace yet I did not buy that I splurged on the silver necklace.

My birthday gift to myself [for the oh, hell 45] will be a virtual consultation with an image consultant. I would like to figure out once and for all what kind of jeans would flatter me and fit well. I could treat myself to a pair in the spring.

The thing is: I do not like to wear jeans because I'm convinced I don't look good in them. This has been the bane of my fashion existence: finding a great pair. Today I wear the Esprit pair that I bought in the fall.

I find nothing cool about whiskering or horizontally-creased thighs on jeans although that is the trend and jeans with those effects are sold in stores everywhere. Sunday I wore the faded pair from Loft. I know I know: most people see nothing wrong with wearing jeans everywhere. They go to the theater: they wear jeans. They go to a restaurant: they wear jeans. They go to a museum: they wear jeans.

Listen: I wear jeans sometimes it's just that I dislike doing so. I once responded to a guy on a dating website whose profile said he wanted to meet a woman who looked great in jeans. Why was I compelled to do this? He turned out to be incompatible. One thing you're not supposed to do: give a woman your phone number and tell her to call you before you've exchanged prelude niceties via e-mail. You just don't demand a woman do that if you're a stranger. Also women: run away if a guy on the Internet tells you he's separated that's a coy term because he's still married. Do yourself a favor and get a sense of the guy before you jump into a relationship with an online paramour. You don't want someone who is half in and half out. He should give you his undivided attention.

Log on to http://www.dressingwell.com/ and subscribe to the Dressing Well Tip of the Week. I bought Mary Lou Andre's book Ready to Wear: An Expert's Guide to Choosing and Using Your Wardrobe over five years ago. She is the founder of Organization by Design--an image consulting firm that offers $299 virtual consultations via phone. You e-mail them up to 10 photos of yourself in outfits and they suggest improvements or additions.

In early February I'll have a friend take pictures of me in outfits to e-mail to Organization By Design for a critique. Mostly--and this is the truth--I just want someone who is a professional to vet my wardrobe. [I've found a cheaper good digital camera on the Best Buy website.] The consultant also tells you what kind of eyeglasses you'd look good in.

Oh no: this blog entry has devolved into fashion froth. I'm going to wind down now because I see no reason to continue in this vein. Once I get the digital camera I will take photos to place in a look book so I can style outfits and get inspiration for choosing clothes in the morning. Possibly I'll post the photos here in an online look book.

This is all I can give you today: a glimpse of my fashion strategy for the coming season.

What else is there to talk about? You just might see JM take a frivolous turn.

Cheers,

Chris

Fringe

2010-01-11T13:05:00.007-05:00

I'll take my fringe on boots, thank you.

Though you might think right now that I live on the fringe. I erased the original blog entry I was writing today because I wasn't comfortable continuing in a political vein. It riffed on the title of Public Enemy's album Fear of a Black Planet. That is all I can tell you without going into details. It is best left unsaid. I'm not that kind of person to be so graphic so I made the conscious decision to erase what I was writing.

Would rather talk about the fringe on boots.

Surf on over to Nancy's blog which I link to on the right. I could so commiserate with her about the back pain as I feel like I'm going to faint now and nothing but a cheddar burger will do for dinner tonight if you understand how it is. I'll ask to be given plenty o' packets of ketchup for the fries. Yes I want fries with that burger.

The winter 2010 issue of SZ magazine with my Living Life column about music and its effect on my recovery arrived in my mailbox today. The disconnect between where I am and the lives of a lot of people diagnosed with schizophrenia is never far from my mind when I read other people's stories in that magazine and elsewhere.

I feel exhausted writing about this. My work will never be done here in this lifetime. I do not shy away from it. I would not do this if recovery were not possible. My success would be an empty victory if I felt what Idid was not possible for others to achieve. If my achievement was a one-shot deal how could I profess to give people hope that they too could recover and do well?

What can I tell others? I certainly can't tell them to give up on ever hoping to reach their goals. I'm angry that most people face a disincentive to work because they'll lose their government health and drug benefits if they do.

One thing:

We need-every one of us-to set the bar.

I will tell you now and I would tell you a week from Tuesday or a year or 10 years from now: that I succeeded because my parents set that bar for me.

We might be limited in what we can do yet always we need to respond with dignity to our trials. We do not have to accept inferior treatment: we can work to institute justice in the world. We can set the bar in terms of what we will and will not accept from other people.

Act with courage in the face of your detractors to envision a better life for yourself.

Not everyone will respect you and there will undoubtedly be interference. First of all you will do well to face down your own limiting fears. This is easier said than done. Did I know that it would work out when I started my first job as an administrative assistant? Of course not. I incurred a $1,700 government disability check overpayment because SSA claimed I did not notify them right away that I found employment and so they kept sending me checks. This was an interest-free loan that gave me some security and I paid it back over two years giving the government $50 per month.

The number-one crying shame in the world is that people with disabilities like schizophrenia and other mental illnesses are penalized for wanting to work because they risk losing their Medicaid which would pay for health care and prescription drugs. In New York State the Medicaid Buy-In program allows people who work and make up to $44,000 the right to buy into Medicaid and continue their benefits while employed. I'm not sure if this buy-in is permanent or only lasts a certain number of years.

I was mistaken because I thought the Medicaid Buy-In existed in every state in the U.S. and it does not. The laws need to be changed even in Canada where the same hardship is faced for peers who want to work. That was the anger aroused in a reader whose letter-to-the-editor was published in SZ magazine. Her son had to quit his job so he could get dental work. She worried how he would be able to live when she and her husband were not alive to provide extra money for him.

What can we do to change these laws? It steams me. I'm not steamed over Reid's comments or anything else. The only thing I'm incensed about are injustices against people living with mental illnesses. This is the niche market I'm here to serve. Certainly the world has seen far greater atrocities yet the one I stake a claim to fight is the stigma surrounding schizophrenia.

"Violence and Schizophrenia: Taming the Criminal Myths"--the feature story in the winter 2010 issue of SZ magazine--tackled this issue. It talked about how people with schizophrenia fall through the cracks and are denied the treatment that would enable them to recover, thus creating criminals whose psychotic minds push them to commit suicide or homicide.

As regards Cho Seung-Hui who was the Virginia Tech murderer [quoted from The Insanity Offense by E. Fuller Torrey]: "Cho was court-mandated to be psychiatrically evaluated; he was held overnight in a local hospital but apparently not treated. He was ordered to get treatment as an outpatient, but did not do so. The counseling center at Virginia Tech received a copy of his court order mandating treatment, but it apparently did nothing. According to an official investigation, the center did not accept 'involuntary or ordered referrals from any source,' and even students with schizophrenia were treated only if they requested it. The Virginia state law for involuntary psychiatric commitment and treatment requires that the person be an 'imminent danger' to himself or others, or be 'substantially unable to care for himself.'"

The blood appears to be on the counseling center's hands.

The SZ magazine article ended with a quote by Barry Jones MD a Canadian psychiatrist:

"The solution lies in the area of public education. I have seen media reports of violent acts carried out by someone with mental illness constantly miss the point: they focus instead on gun control issues or school violence instead of the lack of services for the severely mentally ill. There should be more education about mental illness in schools and early detection. The legal system needs to find a way to deal more effectively with treatment orders for the mentally ill before the potential for violence has emerged. Stigma will always be present, but rational management of this illness can exist even in the presence of stigma."

Folks: stigma is not the issue we have bigger realities to deal with. I hear Andrew Goldstein--the psychotic individual whose pushed Kendra Webdale in front of an oncoming New York City subway train--sought treatment and was denied. Do I know this is true? It is what I've heard.

In the face of this reality how can an anti-drug guru like Peter Breggin and the anti-psychiatry contingent MindFreedom claim schizophrenia should not be treated with medication? They are the ones perpetrating stigma.

No: it is not OK to stand by and allow anyone in the Beloved Community to reach the point of no return.

Upon hearing the news that my first psychiatrist had died I hung up the phone and shouted to my father: "I want to see justice served for the last forsaken lot of misunderstood crazy people." Five years later I began my freelance writing and advocacy career.

Back to the refusal of basic human dignity for people with schizophrenia who want to work:

"My son got a job for two days a week, 6 hours per day, earning $8 an hour. Unfortunately, he had to give up his job because ODSP [Ontario Disability Support Program] cut him off. He had a very bad dental problem, and he had to cancel the appointment with the dentist because his dental card was canceled and then he had to fight to keep his drug card.

What kind of a crazy system allows this to happen? Do they want to get these unfortunate people back into the hospital, instead of helping them recover?"

--Anne, Ontario [SZ magazine letter-to-the-editor writer]

Make no bones about it: I have no choice in this matter but to champion the rights of people living with schizophrenia and other mental illnesses.

We are not criminals. We are decent people who were unfortunate to get a burden we neither wanted nor deserved.

As John Mabry wrote about in The Way of Thomas no human being on earth is separate from any other human being even though we are distinct physical beings. God wouldn't want us to turn away. The ability of one person to recover from schizophrenia affects everyone else in the world.

There: I've told it like it is. What more could I say?

Oh: this--people with schizophrenia deserve to recover. We don't deserve to be treated like dogs. We are human beings just like anyone with needs wants desires feelings and frustrations insecurities hopes dreams and successes JUST LIKE ANYONE.

We Are the One.

Just do it:

Act with love.

View From The 3rd Floor

2010-01-10T11:00:00.006-05:00

This is going to be a rant.

What is scary: the idea that Sara Palin could become president. I've been reading the book Going Rouge which is not to be confused with Going Rogue [her autobiography]. Make no mistake she is not a dumb woman. She is a smart woman pretending to be stupid so she can advance her sick twisted agenda. She would deny you the right to have an abortion if you were raped regardless of the possibility that your baby would inherit the genetic risk for criminal behavior from the rapist father.

Palin is just a hateful woman who spoons people what they want to hear. To co-op an expression linked to feminism [and it was wrong then to do so], her brand of do-me politics is a real threat to Americans everywhere. I have no doubt she could be president: if George W. Bush could trash our economy and get involved in two unnecessary wars and create all kinds of impediments to providing humanitarian aid to other countries [based on his abstinence-only beliefs], I have no doubt the people who elected Bush could elect Palin to do these dirty deeds and not see anything wrong with her tenure at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

The problem is: she's considered a babe in a suit so is taken more seriously than Hillary Clinton who stood by her man and wore the pantsuits in the relationship. People crucified Clinton for not walking away from her husband. How wrong to stand in judgment of someone if you haven't walked in her shoes.

The Religious Wrong and Christian Conservatives scare me because of the power they wield in politics. President Obama is doing the best he can and he's certainly doing better than his predecessor ever could. Don't get me started on Joe Lieberman. He and Palin are in the same camp. He has served to do real danger to America too by hampering the ability to include a public option in the national health care bill.

Obama won the White House folks. It's time to get real and get with the program circa 2010.

Bristol Palin is no poster child for abstinence-only education. Sara Palin could try to put a positive spin on her daughter getting pregnant however the reality for most teenage girls who become pregnant is far worse than the image of Bristol's baby swathed in an American flag. You can bet Sasha and Malia wouldn't end up like like Bristol because obviously Michelle Obama will be teaching them not to lift their skirts to any guy who sweet talks them on a Saturday night. The difference is her daughters would actually listen to her. She might even suggest birth control when her daughters turn 16. That is the reality in America: teenagers are having sex. Birth control is a necessity.

The other reality is that there is a double standard depending on where in the U.S. you live. You might not get the star treatment and a baby blanket spread in People magazine if you were Precious Jones. Luckily Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry brought Precious to movie theaters everywhere. Does Sarah Palin believe Precious Jones should give birth to a child her own father impregnated her with? Push was a grim book to read and I read it way back in 2000. I can't tell you whether the book has a happy ending because you should read it yourself.

Empty rhetoric from right-to-lifers merely puts a bandage on society's problems it doesn't cure them. Yes I believe abortion should be legal. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia and should I need to discontinue the medication because I'm pregnant and forced to carry the baby to term I could very well end up psychotic again. Palin: get out of my bedroom.

OK: I rest my case. Have I been preaching to the choir in this blog entry? I somehow doubt Sara Palin's fan club is reading Joyful Music. If you are a true believer in everything this scary Barbie Doll stands for do not clunk me on the head with a pocketbook--Coach or any other--I won't go down without a fight.

This has been the View From The 3rd Floor.

Now I'm going to sign off as I have to get ready to brave the cold outside.

Tootles.

Make Mine Coach

2010-01-09T19:14:00.003-05:00

Tonight:

I did 40 minutes on the treadmill. It pleases me to sticker 9 saturday in the 2010 engagement calendar with four colorful smiley face stickers to mark that I exercised. I plan on returning to the gym three days a week. I bought a scale. While holding it up waiting in line it was so heavy I felt I lost 5 lbs just lifting it. I told this to the cashier who did not laugh at the joke. She did not make the connection between lifting a scale and losing weight. Am I the only one who would connect those dots? It seemed funny to me at the time.

The blog entry I began earlier in the day I trashed. It talked about how women are obsessed with how much they weigh. I do wonder whether this is a universal phenomenon. Or are there some women for whom the number on a scale doesn't dictate how they feel about themselves?

Secret: I gained 5 lbs over the holidays and I feel that's okay because I can get back on track in the new year. I refuse to stress over things like this. When I turned 40 my metabolism slowed so I knew I would have to watch what I eat and exercise more. I'm no longer a tulip stalk.

The new guy was sweet. In City Diner I ordered the mac-and-cheese for lunch and I couldn't finish it. He said: "That's OK you could eat the whole thing your metabolism would burn it off." Sweet.

A friend and other women tell me I'm skinny and I suppose this is true. I'm lucky I'm thin and sane. It would be another story if I took Zyprexa or one of the other weight-gaining culprits because I would likely have a ravenous appetite and be tempted to chow down at every opportunity. I feel for what other people go through living like that. I understand that could be me if my circumstance changed. This friend argues that I eat healthful foods and go to the gym and that I'm skinny through my own effort. Maybe so. That's of no comfort to me when I realize that with one slip of the mind I could become a candidate for another drug and pack on the pounds. Oh God I do feel for women who have to make the sanity versus vanity choice. I feel for anyone who struggles with her weight.

Sometimes: I'll be at an event and there will be a box of donuts on the table. I'll refuse and a well-meaning woman will take one look at me and say, "Go ahead--you can afford it." This irritates me. I don't have the doughnut because I can't afford to. If I ate a doughnut every time another woman told me to eat a doughnut I might weigh as much as she did.

Once: I was driving past one of those churches with a mini-sermon on its message board in front of the entrance. The message du jour touted: discipline is eating just one cookie. How that related to our lord Jesus I don't know. I thought it was quite insensitive even though it is true. The pastor most likely was reminding his flock that they are weak-willed and reining in their excesses involves self-control. I wondered what kind of food was served at that particular hallowed hall's church functions. Hopefully no tempting cookies.

Well: I ordered in shrimp scampi and broccoli rabe for dinner. I regret my weakness is that I love sweets. This year I'm going to try to eat more fruits and vegetables and whole grains.

______________________________

In April I turn 45. I can't complain if I weigh less than I did when I was 25. So there you go. 45 is the "oh, hell" birthday because you have only five more years until you're 50. Now is the time to make beautiful memories that will last a lifetime.

Sometimes I wonder how I got here. You have no concept of time and know nothing about your life when you're 22. You don't know what the future has in store. All you can think about is next Saturday. I published an article about turning 30 when I turned 30 in 1995 in which I wrote that the future wasn't so large and looming anymore. I talked about how that job interview question--"Where do you see yourself in five years?"--now applied to my personal life.

In 2005 I turned 40 and wanted to be married. I suppose most women set 40 as their deadline for finding Mr. Right. Today I'd be happy to settle for Mr. Right Now.

Two years ago I read Matchbook written by Samantha Daniels--a woman who was a professional matchmaker who set people up if they had $10,000 up front and were gorgeous and successful. She made a point of exclaiming that her matches were all good-looking and that was vain to say the least. One frightful match was a woman who was 39 1/2 and her marriage clock was ticking she was desperate to walk down the aisle before she turned 40.

It was a light fluffy read and yet it was scary that people could be so shallow. I suppose if you were ugly or overweight Daniels would not set you up. At last count she boasted 47 marriages made via Samantha's Table introductions. God forbid the hairline starts to recede on the guys do the women get a refund?

The title of [judge] Judy Scheindlin's book says it all: Beauty Fades, Dumb is Forever. Which side of that equation would you rather be on? I thought so.

______________________________

This is where someone is going to swat me with a pocketbook. Make it a Coach because then I won't mind being conked with it. One should go down to the floor in style.

I'm going to quite while I'm ahead.

Cheers.

Sunny Days

2010-01-08T13:52:00.004-05:00

Yes:

You must ask yourself "What am I supposed to do at this moment in time?"

The pizzeria beckoned for lunch and so I had a grandma slice and a fresh mozzarella slice with diced tomatoes.

Tonight is another moment and tomorrow is another moment.

I write in the spiral-bound notebook:

how now

as if to ask myself how am I supposed to live right now? What am I supposed to do? How now is exactly how it's supposed to be.

A zen approach to timekeeping.

It has been said before yet I wonder how many of us truly live this koan.

how now.

One of the five items for living in the e-mail sent to me was: let go. The idea that we can re-invent ourselves and our lives holds an alluring fascination for me. I'm not a Traditional. The natal chart I downloaded claimed "your flakiness and distrust of Tradition make you exciting to be around." I wondered about that yet I know I'm not a fan of doing things the same way forever.

In my neighborhood on New Year's Eve at midnight firecrackers popped. I could hear these bursts of good fortune as I lay in bed. A New Year A New You is the seductive theme. We can't let life pass us by we must join the world. For those of us with schizophrenia our medication allows us to become involved in life. You get to a point where other things are possible. Your life is not simply about popping pills. Medication enables you to recover yet it is what you do after the pills begin to work that determines how well you do in recovery.

With this in mind I'm posting in this blog entry below an e-mail that was forwarded to me. It is so true and I'll be taking it to heart. It is also interesting that a friend suggested I simplify things and that is exactly what my natal chart report told me is the theme of my life.

Here's the e-mail:

Zen Habits

//////////////////////////////

/////////////
How to Make the Most of the Fresh Start of a New Year

“Each morning we are born again. What we do today is what matters most.” ~
Buddha

Post written by Leo Babauta. Follow me on Twitter.

Were several days into the New Year, and many of us are still basking in
the glow of a fresh start.

Every year, January brings renewed optimism for change, for a better life,
for a better you. And thats a wonderful thing.

Its wonderful, because this fresh start gives us a chance to reinvent our
lives and ourselves. It allows us to reinvigorate ourselves, to shed the
baggage of the previous year and do anything. Anything is possible!

That is a gift, my friends, and I suggest we make the most of this gift.
Not just by creating and sticking to resolutions (heres my guide for doing
that), but by reinventing the way we live.

Heres how.

1. Let go.

Many times we are held back by the tangled web of previous failures,
commitments, emotions, barriers. We cannot change careers because were used
to what were doing and its too hard to change. We cannot find time to get
healthy and fit because we have all these other things to do. We cannot
find time for our loved ones because we have too many commitments.

This is all old baggage. A fresh start demands a clean slate. Let
everything from the past go (easier said than done, I know). Clear your
plate and your palate.

Let go of attachments to what youve been doing for the past year, or years.
Let go of failures. Let go of fears youve built up. Let go of reluctance.
Let go of your ideas about what your life has to be like, because thats the
way its evolved so far. Let go of long-held beliefs and habits.

You have a fresh start. Let go of last year, and start anew.

2. Decide what matters most today.

Forget about your goals for all of this year. Instead, decide: what do you
want to do today?

What matters most to you, to your life? What are you most passionate about,
right now? What excites and invigorates you? What would give you the most
fulfillment?

Often the answer is in creating something, making something new, helping
other people, becoming a better person, working on a project that will be
an accomplishment to be proud of. But whatever your answer, have it clear
in your mind at the beginning of the day.

This might be something you work on all year, or it might just last a
month, or it might last a week or a few days, or just today. It doesnt
matter. What matters is today that youre going to work on this with all
your heart, today. Tomorrow well decide on that tomorrow.

3. Clear away distractions and focus.

Clear away email and Facebook and Twitter and your favorite blogs and news
websites and social forums, clear away the iPhone or Blackberry or Android
or cell phone, clear away all the little nagging work and chores and
errands that pull at your attention, clear away the clutter that surrounds
you (sweep it off to the side to deal with later).

In fact, if you can, shut off the Internet for awhile. You can come back to
it when you take a break.

Now, find focus. Even if only for 15 or 20 minutes at first, but preferably
for 30-60 minutes. You can take a break and check your email or whatever
after youve focused. Focus on the thing that matters most. Do it for as
long as you can, until youre done if possible. Feel free to take breaks,
but always return to your focus.

When youre done, focus on the next thing that matters most, and so on.

4. Find happiness now.

Dont look at happiness as something that will come when youre done with
this goal, or when youve attained a certain accomplishment or certain
amount of wealth or material goods. Dont look at happiness as a
destination, something that youll get later.

Happiness is possible right now. Always remember that. When you push it
back until later, itll never come. When you learn to be happy now, itll
always be here.

When youre doing whatever youre passionate about, whatever matters most,
whatever you decide is worthy of your time and heart and focus be happy!
Youre doing what you love. And that is truly a gift.

5. Reinvent yourself, every day.

Every day, you are reborn. Reinvent yourself and your life, every day. Do
what matters most to you, that day.

It might be the same thing that mattered most yesterday, or it might not
be. That isnt important. Whats important is today right now. Be
passionate, be happy, right now.

Youll have a fresh start every single day not just on January 1. And that,
my friends, is the best thing ever.

If you liked this guide, please bookmark it on Delicious or share on
Twitter. Thanks, my friends.

Read more about simplifying in my book, The Power of Less.

[The lack of apostrophes in the message above is exactly how the words appeared to me so I'm not going to correct this. It's the spirit of the message that counts.]

Imagine: each day is a fresh start. We can abandon one thing that does not work for us and do something else. We do not have to do things the same way we always did them. We can wear purple and not when we're old. We can do anything we set our minds to.

Today is a glorious day.

So live your life and love your life.

It's all good.

The evolution will not be televised

2010-01-07T18:00:00.005-05:00

Oh:

I understand the pull of my younger self to dress in that fashion.

It was a way to sublimate my creativity living in a vanilla world.

You have only your own limited sense of your persona when you are young. You think the clothes and the music and your friends are your true identity. You do not realize that you have your whole life ahead of you and that things will change.

One day you realize that those clothes are not you, the music is not you, and the friends you thought were your friends were only temporary.

Your knowledge of the world back then could fit on a dog tag.

Yet there is always hope.

Our lives are an evolution and surely the evolution will not be televised. You come to it in your own way and one day you realize that things have changed and there is only one direction you can move in: forward. Standing still is not an option.

My fashion was a way to express myself. A friend from long ago seemed to not understand this. She wore rust and beige and tan. Sometimes now I miss that young girl I was: the one whose moods dictated her wardrobe. The one who stayed up late listening to Jesus & Mary Chain albums on a record player. Who imagine she had started a revolution through music.

23 years later corrupted by schizophrenia I do not walk the straight and narrow. I've made the hard choice to publicly champion my vision that people can recover from this devastating illness. Even today circa 2010 the stigma is grim and total. I choose not to fight iron-bound instances of ignorance rather I seek to change the minds of those whose hearts are open to the possibility that people with schizophrenia are good people and can achieve great things if given the chance.

Well: I wasn't going to wait for someone to give me that chance. I fought to get ahead and I wouldn't quit until I got there. I wish more people with schizophrenia and other mental illnesses had this courageous drive. I wish society would welcome us and give us a fair shake.

OK: I abandoned that lifestyle it was a slow process yet one I ultimately knew would serve me well. I believe in changing things from the inside. I'm not a trendy person living on the outskirts. I could not advance my agenda if I continued to look like an extra in a Siouxsie Sioux movie. This about face was not sudden it occurred in subtle stages over the years.

The evolution will not be televised.

One day you realize there's no place you'd rather be and the future can only be better. That day is today.

______________________________

Tonight it is not as cold as when the wind chill factor dipped us below 20 degrees. The weekend promises to be 20 or worse 15 degrees. How is it that the cold has come on out of the blue whereas we've had years without this kind of cold snap?

I sit at my desk typing and my mind is miles away.

A dear friend suggested that we can only live in the present moment and not worry over what the future will bring. We cannot know what's to be. Life will tell us if only we stop to listen. I keep time to a hopeful music. I will do what I must do right now and let the future take care of itself.

Only today I will not back down even though it seems I remain silent. The point is I'm not going to argue with someone who believes all people with schizophrenia are violent. I'm not going to duke it out with Perez Hilton or his ilk. Also: a lot of people have hellish experiences with their loved ones and it seems these hell-and-heartache stories have a platform. Yet those of us doing well toil away in anonymity with no recognition or praise for our efforts. Thus the myth of a schizophrenic hell is alive and well. The hell stories go off louder than bombs and are given more weight yet these very stories ravage you of all hope.

Listen: I know I'm going to get flak for what I just wrote. I posted it here rather than in the public forum I wanted to speak my peace / piece in because like I said I doubt it does any good to argue with people whose minds are closed by virtue of their experiences with their loved ones.

I once went to a support meeting where mothers of people with schizophrenia sat around commiserating and at the end of the night one woman told me: "You know a lot of people would be jealous of you." Jealousy does nothing. Seeking out role models who inspire you on your road of recovery is the only option. We can walk together side-by-side on this journey not miles ahead or miles behind each other. Feeling sorry for yourself is not the way to go. Do what you can always do your best knowing your best will change from day to day. As long as you're satisfied you've done your best there can be no shame. Compete against yourself and no one else.

This is in essence my left of the dial life philosophy:

Who cares what everyone else thinks. Be true to yourself.

I have framed the greeting card that boasts that quote and placed it on top of my bookcase. Comparison-itis is a destructive disease. The only truly level playing field is when you compete against yourself.

Yet: I would not judge someone who sat on the couch all day. That is their choice and I respect their decision even if it is not the choice I would make.

We all have limitations and insecurities and worries and fears. The secret is to take action even when we're quaking in our boots.

My core philosophy is that you must be brave and choose how you want to live your life in the face of people telling you what you should do. They don't always have your best interests at heart and they might want you to do something that doesn't jibe with what you know is the right thing to do.

Recovery takes courage. The courage to risk living with the uncertainty about your future and instead live in the now.

It can get better. You just have to believe.

Hold on to your memories of the way it was yet don't let the past cloud your ability to live for today.

Live for today.

It is the only way to live.

Neon

2010-01-06T06:16:00.004-05:00

Life goes on.

I have ideas for other books: fiction and non-fiction.

The apartment is an ice box. I slept with gloves and a knit cap on. I do not buy a space heater because they are dangerous if not used properly and even then you risk carbon monoxide poisoning and house fires. Carbon monoxide is a colorless odorless gas so you should at the least install a carbon monoxide detector if you plan on using a space heater. I Googled space heaters dangers and found out they are the leading cause of fires in the winter. They should burn blue and not have an orange glow. They should be placed three feet away from anything combustible like papers books and towels. You should not leave them on overnight and especially not overnight in a bedroom. Do not place them close to bed linens.

A human space heater would be much preferable if you understand my drift.

Well: I did it--ordered a black cashmere sweater from Lands End. Luckily it was on sale. I had to throw out my wool black turtleneck because it had gotten worn and fluff stuck all over it. Yes I do not have the money to buy two cashmere sweaters.

The black pants need to be sent to the cleaners or else I could wear the beige sweater my aunt gave me for Christmas last year. I won't wear that sweater with jeans you see. Today I wear the denim trousers and red boots with a turtleneck and the long ivory cardigan. Yesterday I wore a pair of dark jeans and the red cotton hooded sweater with toggles. To see the guy I wore a black sweater and nubby tweed short skirt with patent loafers.

What do I know? In the long-term it doesn't matter what I wore on Tuesday.

Today I feel justified in buying the new sweater because it will replace the black turtleneck and enable me to wear the green wool jacket and the purple wool cardigan. A beautiful red version of the sweater was also on sale and had I not sprung for expedited shipping I could have bought the two cashmere crews.

All this is a distraction. I've decided to stop calling myself a dum-dum because it serves no purpose other than to make me feel crummy. Change is the order of the day. Yesterday is finished and gone. Today is a new day. Spending two hours in Starbucks talking to someone warrants a new tactic.

______________________________

The look today will be all-American. Something I will pull off. Planning my outfits will keep me from drifting back to this other topic like I have a one-track mind. It has been swirled about for two hours in the spiral-bound notebook since I woke at four am from a dream. I dreamed I was in a hospital and placed on a stretcher and pumped full of drugs. Every so often I dream I'm in a hospital looking for the exit and I fear if I walk down the wrong hall I'll be locked up forever. Interesting.

The other apartments on the floor are cold as well and I heard the super can't do anything about this so I might have to tape my windows shut with some kind of heavy duty tape in the cold months.

Plan B: speed things up.

My friend assured me I was not a dum-dum even though it seemed I needed to have a neon sign flashing in front of me. She told me a guy courted her for a year before she realized what he was doing. They ate lunch together and went out to dinners and he sent her flowers and she had no idea he liked her.

Guys: if you're interested in a girl that way tell her, "I'd like to go on a date with you to a museum," not: "Would you like to go to a museum?" A modern independent woman is not going to connect the dots just because you're a guy and she's a woman.

Stories are rife of women who go on accidental dates not realizing the guy viewed her as a potential romantic partner. Let's face it: we might not be into you that way so don't be flattered if you ask us to a museum without asking us on a date and we decide to go.

Be clear about your intentions because some of us do need a neon sign flashing in front of our faces.

Well: I've gone there. Chime in if you can relate.

Now I'm at the bottom of the roller coaster after all this upward motion I've come crashing down and have no energy. I've written myself into a corner.

This is all I can give you. For now.

Peace and happiness,
Chris

Sweet Tomorrow

2010-01-04T23:02:00.007-05:00

Hello:

Did I tell you I would have a juicy blog entry on New Year's Eve?

Hmm. I'm a dum-dum. I really am a dum-dum. It is hard for me to believe my good fortune. Why wouldn't someone like me? It seems unlikely to me however it is true.

One thing: I can make eye contact. I once went on a date with a guy whose head was turned sideways when he was talking to me and I couldn't see his eyes so that turned me off. Sorry. A friend suggested he was nervous however I couldn't get past his lack of eye contact. Was the wall more interesting than me?

It's 5:00 PM exactly according to my computer clock. I began this blog entry last night after an evening that was a smash success. You can just call me dum-dum. Like the song lyrics I'm not "the smartest tool in the shed."

The 24-tube lipstick tray has arrived and I organize the tubes tonight. A woman was amazed that I have 16 tubes of lipstick because she has only two. I wonder about this. I will declare a moratorium on buying lipstick. As tubes wear down I will not replace them.

The Clinique Pink Chocolate I will stop buying and instead try out NARS's Pigalle which is billed as a pink chocolate shade on the Sephora website. You see I play around: with lipstick, that is.

Well: I downloaded an extended natal chart last night and it is quite revealing. How true it is. Accurate to a T. I'm hoping to hear good news about the memoir. While I wait I work on the second book.

I like the red Calvin Klein coat I bought on Saturday. It keeps me warm. I close up the neck with a peppermint pink Sisley scarf that I bought years ago.

Today I wore my black wool bowler. I bought it in the Limited in 1995. It's a fun hat. I placed the four winter hats on the hat rack in the hall. My mother bought me a few years ago a red chenille hat however it doesn't match the Calvin Klein red which is a blue red; the hat is a true red. Oh, you see: I make these distinctions.

In a photo my cousin circulated I'm wearing a long sleeve tie-dye tee shirt and black jeans, circa 1985. The guys wear skinny black Knack "My Sharona" ties and white shirts. Everyone has some kind of unfathomable 1980s haircut. We were so young then. I suspect the picture was taken long before I went in the hospital at someone's engagement party.

That is how I can pinpoint the provenance of the photo: before I went in the hospital or after I went in the hospital. My life was changed forever by that event. In June 1987 I graduated college with a BA in English and I had no idea what I wanted to do. I only knew I didn't want to teach. The world awaited me. On one fateful night everthing changed. My Grandpa was in a coma hooked up to a respirator in the intensive care unit. That was my breaking point.

I don't wonder now what might have been: I'm a realist. I read somewhere that you have to give time time to work its wonders. You are as young as you feel.

I shudder to remember those outrageous outfits I wore that I show up in photos wearing. It took a decade to get to this point: the abandonment of midnight clothes. I can remember year-by-year the donations of clothes I made to the Salvation Army. Once I took photos of my rock band tee shirts because parting with them was such sweet sorrow.

That was then, this is now. I dream of a sweet tomorrow.

Again: you risk. There--I've told you this--you must risk change. Linda Ellerbee is quoted: "Change is one form of hope. To risk change is to believe in tomorrow."

Yet somehow I do wish I could go back in time and change what happened even with how things turned out. To know a different kind of life. That is why I will always remember the year I spent living on Bailey Avenue in that beautiful apartment when I was free.

Can I say it was better then? It was only different. Right now the truth does not upset me in the way it used to. You are diagnosed with schizophrenia and you deal with it. Life demands that of you. You move forward because standing still is not an option.

We talked for two hours in Starbucks. The interesting thing is that after the cognitive therapy ended I was able to see things differently. I can concede things are better now than when I was in my twenties. It was like the therapist hot-wired my perception.

So you risk change. I will always come back to this. Perfection is a myth because it implies there can be no growth. Hope is a coping skill. When we risk hoping for a better life we can risk changing and growing.

The only thing constant is change. That is the cycle of life. Rejuvenation and renewal. A woman I interviewed told me that after the diagnosis we can be a different kind of well. We might not be the same however we can be well in a different way.

Always maintain a positive spirit. To do so your life will be rich beyond measure.

It is now time for me to sign off: I feel I've been circling around this forever.

Cheers.

Who Shot Rock-n-Roll

2010-01-02T00:16:00.003-05:00

What I have learned:

You keep holding on to the things you love long after they're gone. You have to decide which side you want to be on. A new life beckons after you're diagnosed with schizophrenia. It is hard to give up the old life although sometimes the universe forces our hand.

I'm Chris-the same as I ever was only better. My life then: Ray's Famous Pizza at 2 am. My life now: closing down the nail salon instead of a bar. I met someone who would go to restaurants for crabs and beer. That image stays in my mind in a vivid picture.

Who we were then who we are now. I cannot say the schizophrenia didn't change me. It altered my worldview. Yet it is true time changes us regardless of the illness. I'll be 45 in April and it's like my new life has just begun. We have personalities apart from the illness and we can change throughout our lives. I always wanted to leave this world as a different person from the one I was when I entered it. This is possible.

We are still ourselves at the core even though we were diagnosed with schizophrenia. The illness robs of certain things yet it does not take away other things.

You can reclaim yourself in recovery.

You can grow as a person and achieve your life purpose: the life you were born to live.

How can I say this? I have seen it firsthand in my own life.

It is ironic: when I was younger I thought I was open-minded because I liked weird music and thought that other people were narrow-minded because they did not like that music. This was actually a reverse form of intolerance. I had substituted something I loved for a personality trait. Years later I understand that the music does not make the man (or the woman) in the same way that our clothes are not the sum total of who we are.

To quote Jodi Picoult, "People are more than the sum total of their disability." I couldn't see that back then when I attended the second day program.

The years give us wisdom. It is the folly of youth that we think we know everything. What I didn't know could fill a whole book and I had to learn these things over the years, page-by-page.

When you are young you are experimenting with your persona; adopting new beliefs; tasting freedom for the first time. What did I know of the world? The Island was "white bread-and mayonnaise" in the eyes of the student disc jockeys. We railed against that barefoot and pregnant picket fence life.

Years later the image of crabs and beer haunts my mind. Another time a different life. I want to go somewhere to eat crabs and not drink beer yet to soak up that atmosphere.

Life goes on. We rock-n-roll with it.

______________________________

The green coat that did not fit I shipped back to get a credit to my account.

Today I bought instead a red coat with a 15 percent off coupon. I was lucky to find a nice coat in a size 6P that fit. All the rest were basic black or in large sizes. A gray Kenneth Cole coat I nixed because it did not look good on me and the sleeves were too long.

The coat I went home with was a red Calvin Klein whose sleeves do not need to be hemmed. It hangs below the knee so I can wear it when it's cold with a wind chill factor.

D. and I ate in Tick Tock Diner after we went to Herald Square. It's open 24 hours. I told him what my two New Year's resolutions were. I know exactly how to work on one of them. The expression is flattery will get you everywhere. I know what I want and I'm willing to wait to get it if the outcome will be that much sweeter.

Before I met D. at Macy's I browsed the Museum with Mom and Dad.

We saw the "Who Shot Rock-n-Roll" exhibit and I bought a black Brooklyn Rocks tee shirt with those letters emblazoned on it in white puff letters. The gift shop sells expensive jewelry. I quit while I was ahead with the tee shirt because later in Macy's I bought a thin cotton navy cardigan to lounge in in the spring and summer in the apartment.

By spring I should know whether my efforts have been successful.

I eagerly await the spring and warm weather. I buy a space heater because my apartment is cold when it's windy outside. The windows are not good at shutting out the wind so it gets drafty. On New Year's Day the apartment was warm enough that I could stay indoors in a tee shirt and jeans. It was actually warm enough for me to take off the sweat shirt. Go figure.

A friend came over and had to leave early because it was so cold. I can hear the wind whipping around outside. We ordered in Thai food for lunch.

I want my life to turn out like the ending of Eat Pray Love. Did you read that book? I consider it the best book I ever read. It is one of my favorites.

So I sit at the desk typing in the living room and will shortly sign off to go call a friend. Living with uncertainty is hard and the waiting is the hardest part.

Truly San Diego beckons in the winter months when I retire. Or someplace else sunny and warm.

In the Museum I narrated the lives of the rock stars for my nephew who is too young to know who they are. Mom told him he could pick out a souvenir in the gift shop and she would buy it. He chose The Art Book which cost under $10. He is seven years old and I'm conflicted about that book because he giggled when he saw a nude painting in it.

The 24-tube lipstick tray shipped and I should get it tomorrow or Tuesday so will take it home to organize the lipsticks. I look forward to having easy access to the tubes so I can choose the perfect shade for my various outfits. I will line them up from nudes to pinks to roses to plums to reds.

In this weather I cannot wear the short pink coat. I'm not going to get the sleeves hemmed on the red coat. I will wear it tomorrow with a scarf and my black leather gloves. I hear snow is on the way again.

I read somewhere that Jesus was known for telling people "Be of Good Cheer."

That is what I hope for you in these cold dark winter months:

Good Cheer.

Hope

2010-01-01T11:09:00.005-05:00

Good morning.

A friend asked if I made New Year's resolutions and I told her no. What I like to do is set a goal I know I can achieve. I have two for 2010: get a literary agent and continue to get to know my new mate.

I grapple with something and I have to let go and trust that a friend knows of what she speaks. It is hard for me to believe this could be possible. Yet I'm willing to concede that each person I meet has their own limitations and insecurities. Not all men are pigs in suits and it's refreshing when you meet a guy who isn't Porky.

It makes the attraction all the more intense.

That's the secret to winning a woman: you can't neg on us like my ex-boyfriend did and expect to get anywhere. Maybe that pick-up artist Mystery could talk negatively to woman just to get them interested in sleeping with him. I would hold out for a guy who treats me like a Queen. I would only give a guy royal treatment too. That is my life ethic: to flatter a person and make him feel good.

I could tell within five minutes on the phone that the new person was a good catch and then when we met he did not disappoint. How could I know before I met him that it would turn out well? Listen: Sue-the woman who gave me the reading-told me I have psychic ability because the C and the U in my name are psychic letters according to numerology. That's also how I knew I had to move into this apartment as soon as I saw the apartment number listed on the buzzer panel.

So you leave your expectations at the door and let the other person be themselves and when they reveal themselves as they surely will you will know whether to continue.

The 2010 horoscope for Taurus said men feel comfortable around a Taurus woman because they feel they can be themselves with her. Interesting.

______________________________

The laundry is in the wash downstairs and I place everything in the dryers in twenty minutes. Luckily I had only three small loads and a wash for a pair of jeans I have to wash separately because they would bleed.

No need to steam any clothes because I wear the usual suspects in terms of sweaters and they have no wrinkles.

Well: I will always come back in a circle to the weight of fashion in my life and the contrast between then and now. The industry has evolved. I'm not saying fashion designers weren't talented in the 1980s and early 1990s: just that they have a different aesthetic now that is more refined and less a parody of female stereotypes delineated through our wardrobe.

This is the real deal in the modern world. I have such high hopes for 2010 and the next fashion decade. I saw a lot of other clothes I loved in Loft yet won't buy them as I already have two under bed boxes full of clothes for the spring and summer to transfer to the closet in the next season.

A friend understood that men love sports in the way women are dedicated followers of fashion. I wouldn't take that away from a guy. I also love to talk and sometimes do not want to end a conversation when the other person is quite content to hang up the phone. To each his own.

______________________________

One can hope.

That is all we can do:

hope.

Invictus

2009-12-31T22:02:00.004-05:00

Tonight:

Hail pelts down.

I saw the movie Invictus about Nelson Mandela and the South African rugby team. He is a great man. I read a biography about him years ago. He is truly one of the greats in the annals of history. What did I know back then? I had the 12-inch LP version of the Specials' song "Free Nelson Mandela" and then the song became obsolete a decade later.

Morgan Freeman is a great actor. You get a sense of Nelson Mandela from watching Freeman in the movie. It was a great day when black South Africans were able to vote for Mandela for president. Nelson Mandela was smart. He lived by his wits and his conscience and lived to see the day his country was set free.

You get the sense that South Africa is a beautiful land until you see the tin shacks. Nobody should have to live like that.

Nelson Mandela was a brilliant man. He had the courage to risk his life for what he believed in. How many of us would?

______________________________

Today while waiting for the train a woman complimented me on my new pocketbook and said it matched my pink coat. I had bought the turquoise backpack from a street vendor yesterday on the Upper West Side. My new mate and I had walked down Broadway and as soon as I saw the pocketbook I decided to get it because I always wanted a bag in that color. I can wear it in the summer with a black top and my beige linen pants.

That was yesterday, this is today: I arrived early to 34th Street and ducked into Loft where I bought an ivory tee shirt with a rosette design and a short sleeve black cotton knit cardigan to wear together in the spring. I was able to do this because I had some extra money. I'm really not a spendthrift. I love fashion. It could be worse: I could be spending money on cigarettes or booze.

So I feel justified in treating myself. Go ahead: mock me for being obsessed with looking good to a guy to myself to the world. All we need is love on earth and peace here too.

Life will continue: this glorious life.

It's a different kind of energy to wear the short pink coat: I look around and everyone is wearing black. Five years ago I traveled to Montreal and noticed that in that city everyone also blended in. It was early April and they had on black raincoats and I was walking around in my short red barn coat not knowing how to dress. So I recommend if you ever go to Montreal wear a black raincoat if you don't want to be a fish out of water.

Funny: how when I was younger I dressed in black all the time and I mean all the time. It was an instinct. Black was my favorite color. I wore black when I was moody. I wore black when I wanted to be taken seriously.

Now red is my favorite color to wear.

That time: the 1980s. It was a strange decade. Fashion hadn't evolved or maybe it was just different. One thing I know now: dressing well is an act of kindness towards yourself. I have learned this lesson.

______________________________

We went to the Metropolitan Museum and browsed the European paintings and the modern art. Then went to the City Diner for lunch.

I loved a painting of buildings in a neighborhood which makes sense as the location for a Gemini is the neighborhood and I have Gemini rising in my natal chart.

Felt I could be a good artist if I practiced painting and read the oil painting book before I actually took brush to canvas. The Complete Oil Painting Book I bought with an Amazon.com gift card I received after completing a survey about mental health blogging. One of the questions asked was whether I felt it was therapy to keep a blog and I checked off No. Joyful Music is an outlet for my creativity first and foremost. Therapy is a private matter although of course paid work could be consider therapy because it enables you to recover.

A memory has suddenly come on out of the blue: when I was a kid I took art classes in the summer and on Saturdays.

Why did I stop drawing and painting when I came out of the hospital?

Oh: I marched to other music in college and then the music died.

In February I will begin my painting hobby.

Wish me luck with this. I will post photos of my artwork here as it gets better.

Right now I will go sign off and go to bed.

Happy New Year!

Chris