I'm not always manic or suicidally depressed or even stoned on meds. Sometimes I feel normal, which is the most amazing feeling ever b/c I don't remember ever feeling that way.

I remember always thinking there was something wrong with me, my fault, because other people got out of bed and did things while I could only get up to work and/or go to school. If I was meeting friends and the meetup time was 9 pm, I'd be lying in bed, listening to music until 8:15. then I'd be late b/c I hadn't even showered. My parents (divorced since i was 12) remember that I was an outgoing talkative kid with tons of friends and then when I turned 8, I went to my room and sat there forever listening to the am radio in the inside of my stuffed raccoon. i quit going to dance class, I lost my friends and never wanted to go out and I wrote sad poetry that they always thought was so wonderful and never even heard my cry for help.

[One of my first poems was called "The Theives (sic) and Jesus" b/c I went to Catholic school and bought every word. Of course I still believed in santa too. It started: Jesus was dying on the cross, his blood was falling, what a loss!]

I digress. While trying to regain my life, I've been using my time while home (I'm often afraid to go out b/c of mania) I have been pursuing my dreams of creating a line of fashion called wryly "Manic Expressions." I made a million mistakes, but I kept at it and now I've become pretty good and I love the designs. My friends love the designs and have been a huge support group convincing me that I could sell them. So I've been working like a dog btw mood swings (an inadequate expression if I ever heard one.)

I went to my first store to pitch my wares last and wore my first and favorite design. I barely said a word and the owner of the store asked me where I got my outfit!! I showed her samples and she wants to carry them on consignment. I was thrilled, absolutely thrilled. Now I've got two lead singers in popular local bands here in NYC who are willing to wear my stuff and guide anyone to my website (still under construction). I have three pending orders and I've come up with two really great promos that I have in action which includes a local bar (these places are all Lower East Side and my style is "rocker") where I can have a party to launch my line, bring stuff to sell and earn a (small) percentage of the bar. I am promoting the shit out of it. I did a party there two months ago promoting the Gotham Girls Roller Derby and Bitch and Moan, the online zine I write for. Here's the flyer (my design):

http://www.flickr.com/photos/44588112@N00/41862996/
So I call my dad this morning to tell him this good news. He was so bland. He said, "I'll be impressed when you're in Vogue. You've already started all kinds of projects in your life and you never finished any of them. I thought you were going to be a writer and you never pursued that." [I won the McArthur Award for Playwriting at Brooklyn college, the first person to do so before ever taking a class. It was handed to me by Allen Ginsburg. I didn't finish because the program was such shit I earned all A's without doing a lick of work and I learned absolutely nothing new. Also, I sent copies of three articles I wrote for BAM with the photos I took, but he didn't read them or care b/c it's unpaid) More from my loving father: "I don't really think it will sell and I don't think you can really create what your doing (restructured tees into cigarette and mini skirts). I guess you can work on it when you're not in bed feeling sorry for yourself."

I just told him I couldn't speak to him any more, hung up the phone and cried. then I called my best and long term friend in GA and ranted for an hour.

I am losing my ability to love him. He is a total asshole.

MANIC EXPRESSIONS

WWW.MANICEXPRESSIONS.NET