Have you ever wondered if you (or someone you know) might belong among the illustrious ranks of the mentally ill? In particular, bipolar? It’s nothing to be ashamed of, despite the stigma, many people of great minds and accomplishments have been bipolar, or as it was formerly known, manic depressive. It is speculated that Winston Churchill and Vincent Van Gogh had it, and more recently, Russell Brand, Mariah Carey and Britney Spears have been diagnosed.
The Holidays are here again, and I feel totally Scrooged over. From my West Texas apartment, there's not a snowflake in sight, it's not even sweater weather, and no present is expected to be coming in or going out of the premises. That's okay though, I've got gratitude.
You may have read my other story about a mouse. This one is true too. My husband and I were living in Philadelphia, in a row house in a part of Philadelphia called Fishtown. The row house was very old, built in the 1700’s. It also had mice. Mice, I reminded myself, that were descendants of colonial mice. My husband was recovering from back surgery so it was up to me to buy mousetraps or poison or whatever it takes to get rid of mice, so it didn’t get done. I don’t believe in killing things and if you read my other story you know I am responsible for the death of a mouse.
For those about to rock, don't hurt yourselves. Chances are, if you remember when Mick and the Boys really were not much more than boys, you might need a kinder, gentler workout. That's not to say you can't enjoy the hard rocking tunes of your youth. It's not just for the old timers, everyone click on the video above and get started with "Start Me Up," it's bound to get you moving and warmed up. You can just prance around like Mick in your own living room, that's pretty safe.
When I was just twenty, and I’d been married less than a year, my husband and I, and my sister and brother-in-law, with whom we split the rent, came into town from our country mobile home to go to the liquor store. They could spend a good deal of time debating the best way to spend their limited funds on alcohol, but I found it boring, so I went in to the pet shop next door. In those days, it was the eighties, they still sold puppies and kittens in pet shops, so I had plenty of time to poke my fingers into all the cages and ooh and ahh to myself about the adorableness, and then I took the obligatory spin towards the rodents and then the scaled creatures.
Not so long ago I lived alone. Not the “single and ready to mingle” kind of alone, the empty nester kind of alone. The kind of alone where you know a lot about people and relationships and you don’t forsee putting either one into your life just to not be alone anymore.