Let things go.

It has come to my attention that I just need to chill out. My mother-inlaw was worried that I am just getting way too worked up over small things. She offered me some wonderful advice that I do intend on taking under deep consideration and remembering. If something has me upset I now have the ability to focus on it and decide if it is really worth getting upset about.



So this is my official kick off just chilling out. However it is difficult for me but, not impossible, because my medication causes me to be irritable at times. It also just amplifies my emotions. I am learning to work through it.


"That which does not kill us only makes us stronger"
Frederich Nietzsche

I remembered an episode of Star Trek the Next Generation the other day while I was reflecting upon past events. It was a Picard centric episode where Q was showing him what his life would had been like had he not been stabbed in the heart. Picard then received an artificial heart. Q showed Picard that he would never have had the same courage, ambition, not afraid to fail, and he would never had the drive to succeed. Remembering that installment made me wonder if I had not been afflicted with AD/HD my entire life, would I have the same character that I now possess today. The will to succeed no matter how many times I fail. The ability to get back up after I've been knocked down and out. I seriously doubt that I would.

"If it does not kill you, it will only make you stronger." I pulled through every tumulus event in my life. Granted I did have assistance at times. But for the most part I only had myself to rely on. I had no other option at my disposal. What was I going to do? Just stay down and give up? What people do after they get beat up by life and knocked to the ground is what defines them. That is how people are going to remembered.

I never realized that until just recently. We are defined by our past experiences and it is through hardships and tribulations that we learn how to construct lasting and real character. So if something is not worth expelling energy over, let it go. Save your emotions for something that will require your attention.

Thanks Chris

One of the worst days in my life.

I just got back from bicycling half way across Seattle and back again. The weather was perfect and I felt fantastic. Too bad the meeting that I was scheduled to keep I really wasn't looking forward to. Recently I've gone through my comic book collection and I've been advertising them on Craig's List and I am preparing to auction them on Ebay as well. I jus t s old some my prized possessions at a price that would make any comic book collector’s mouth drop to the floor. A few of those comic books I've had since I was a teenager. I cannot describe the intense pain that I felt inside, it hurt me so deeply to part with my Wolverines and Spider Man. I wanted to just turn and walk out of that cafe. And after I sold them I wanted to chase the collector down screaming at the top of my lungs "no, no, stop, oh please for all that is good in this world NOOOOOOOooooo! I changed my mind."



Today is literally one of the worst monumental biggest days of my life that I will remember for as long as I am alive. I am not exaggerating at all, I could not be more serious. I am going to mourn this day, mark it on my calendar, and remember it every year for as long as I am alive. And each passing generation it will be one of my dying wishes that this day be remembered. Do you think I am over dramatizing this? Please understand that I am not. Today is one of the saddest days of my life.

There are probably four days that I can mark in my life that I will never forget because it hurt me so much. The day that my grandmother died. The day that I got divorced from my 1st wife. And the day that I heard the judge say "the mother shall be the custodial parent and children shall reside with her. The father shall have visitation rights every other weekend and holidays." I was reduced to a part time father and all of my dreams, hopes, and aspirations were crushed. And today is the fourth day that I will mourn for as long I shall live. The day that I left my ex wife and the life that I created with her I had packed my car with every meager possession that I owned. I took my clothes, my car, and god damnit I had my comic books. Matter of fact my comic books were worth more than my car was then. My comic books are still worth more than the car I have today. They're worth more than the bicycles I depend on for transportation too. And anybody that knows me can attest to the fact that I spend a lot of money to maintain my bicycles, because I do rely so heavily on them for my health and transportation. You may take the liberty of comparing my relationship with comic books to that of a love affair. Because that is almost what its like for me, it has been an affair that is kind of secret but not really. However I've never educated anybody how deeply I love comic books. I was afraid that they would think that I was being childish and silly for being so obsessed. Every serious relationship I've been involved in since high school and that includes my ex wife and current marriage. I've concealed my abiding love affair with comic books. So that may give you some idea as to how long I've been collecting comic books and what they mean to me, every single one of them. Granted I do not collect like I once did, but I never really stopped our love affair.




I was of the age of 10, I may have been 12 years old. I remember the day so vividly and intimately when my love affair with comic books had begun. My first comic book, was resting on my lap that my mother had just purchased for me at the gift shop of a Seattle hospital. Earlier my mother wanted a bottle of Coca Cola to quench her thirst so we stopped at the gift shop. Little did I know my moment of destiny was going to be realized. As my mothers beverage and other items were being calculated my child eyes had rested upon the one comic book that has determined the events of my life to this very day. When I saw the printed media on the news stand I was entranced and needed to have it. I eagerly grabbed the magazine and I requested that my mother add it amongst her purchases. It was good thing that she complied because I was not going to accept no as an answer. After we had departed from the gift shop my mother and I were sitting in a waiting room anticipating the time when my name would be called for an EKG. My first grade teacher noticed that I would frequently be in a daze. After many doctor appointments and tests I was diagnosed with petty-maul Epilepsy. I was in the hospital that day for one of those numerous procedured. As I was looking through the pages of my new comic book I did not comprehend how so much excitement could be printed upon such the flimsy news print. The pages were leaping up at me and I could identify that a story was unfolding upon my lap. As I my small fingers were thumbing through the printed media I became unaware that there was world beyond the pages of my newly purchased comic book. It was as if everything had come to a complete halt and my tiny boy-hood ears did not register the octaves of the hospital transpiring all around me. It was as if everything in world had stopped and I could not take my eyes away from the pictures that were obviously conveying a story that had been preordained for me to see. My adolescent mind perceived that the events of my life had all been predestined and culminated to the day that I would be sitting in that Seattle hospital waiting room with mother and my comic book. I can still remember the title; it was Ghost Rider series one #3. Or it may have been Alpha Flight #19. I knew then that comic books would occupy a special place in my heart and mind. I was so secure in this knowledge that I knew nothing else would or could ever take its place or even compare. The magnitude to which comic books would enrich and enhance my life I was completely ignorant of.

What a cruel joke the powers that be had played upon me that day. I had my comic book nestled against my tiny lap and I was incapable of reading it. When I was a child my class mates taunted me relentlessly because I did not read very well. My mother refused to read my newly discovered passion that day and every day that proceeded. She always said to me that if I wanted to know what the words were in the bubbles, what the characters were saying, I had to read it for myself. I still have that 1st comic book that my mother purchased for me today. During the commute home I was completely engrossed in my comic book while my mother drove the 36 miles. I immediately retreated to the confines of my bedroom where I spent the remainder of that day sounding out the syllables in every bubble on all the panels and pages. It took me one long frustrating week to read my very 1^st comic book but I did read it eventually and I completed that task all on my own accord. I was informed by mother that if I wanted a new comic book I had to first demonstrate my newly discovered skills which I promptly did. My imagination was expanding as I received three or four new comic books at a time. I escaped to my bedroom which I imagined was my personal Bat Layer. My small mouth repeated the process again when I labored to construct the letters into words that were in the bubbles on all twenty of the pages that contained the elusive story. Over an extended period of time my reading skills improved and I raised my grades from D- to C+ and B-s. Unfortunately the frequent harassment my school mates visited upon me never ceased. After enduring those long days and constant bullying I was subjected to, I would nurture my blossoming relationship with comic books. My collection of printed media that I accrued did not match passionate affection I had for them. I could never bring myself to discard any of my comic books because they were my comic books and mine alone. My father would often trespass in my Bat Layer and take one of my comic books to read while he bathed. The thought of all that moisture collecting upon the pages of MY COMIC BOOKS filled me with rage. I was also jealous of anybody touching my comic books but me. One of the other many gifts I received from my love affair with comic books is that I became an artist myself. I was reading Conan the Barbarian one day while laying on my Bat Bed and as I turned one of the final pages I saw the most incredible pinup that my eyes had ever beheld. I inspected the amazing drawing closely and I was confident that I could draw it. I got a large piece of paper from somewhere and I set my mind to drawing that picture. Over time copied other pictures and my father purchased my 1st real drawing pencil for me that still I have inside of my art supplies today. I've worn it down to barely a nub that is slightly bigger than my 1st knuckle on pinky finger but I kept it. I traded those same drawings with my friends in the neighborhood for a brown bomber leather jacket that was too small for me. Later my friend’s parents saw the drawing and he got in trouble for having satanic pictures and they made him destroy one of 1st drawings (stupid fundies). My pictures that I copied from comic books were hung in my JR High School. The artist that I am today is the direct influence that comic books have had over my life.

Comic books provided me an entry way into separate world that Stan Lee or Bob Kane created. I could ride a silver surf board with the Silver Surfer and deny the will of the planet destroyer called Galactus. Or I could join Conan as he got drunk and womanized. Later when the worshiper of Crom sobered up I would join him as he cleaved the Devourer of Souls down the middle with a battle ax or with the sword of his dead father. When I wanted something on a slightly smaller scale I would join the Micronauts in an alien universe called Microverse and watch as they foiled the latest plan of Baron Karza. For my personal finale I would join Charles Xavier as he sat in his wheelchair and bravely led the X Men on mission to deliver humanity that despised all of mutant kind from a sinister plot that Magneto devised. Every news print page that I turned held either the salvation or the demise of the planet. The 20 page stories that unfolded in front of me were my 1st real love in life. The love affair I had with comic books was my one and only form of escapism that I had. The love I have for comic books is something that I've been nurturing and fostering my entire life. When the tantalizing story I was reading had concluded I knew it would be another 20 days before our flames would be rekindled. Next I would then retreated to the confines of my own alien world that I created with my own pencils and I was the lord over all I surveyed. I alone was god over the characters and landscapes that I sketched and I controlled the fate of everything. I still have those drawings and comic books that I drew and created as teenager.

I feel like I've betrayed my first love. I have a sense that my beloved is sharing our intimate moments right now that were once reserved for me. Those quite moments we spent late at night by the moonlight when nobody was watching us and it was school night and I supposed to be sleeping. I would carefully lick my finger tips with just enough moisture to turn the delicate pages so that I would not stain them or create a bend that would damage fragile newsprint. I am really jealous that somebody else is enjoying the pleasures those pages brought to me. I cannot help but to feel like I have a strong sense of ownership over that, like I have it patented.

So if you read all of that then maybe you’re willing to discover why I sold my beloveds today. My wife has sacrificed so much to make sure that I am going to get the help that I need to gain control of my life from AD/HD. I am not brining in an income and I want to contribute to our home as much as I can. I wanted to give something back to Jenny, and I had this opportunity to do it that for her. Selling some of my prized comic books was the very least that I could do for my wife who has sacrificed so much to make sure that I will get well. I am devoted to my rehabilitation and I am going to do absolutely anything that it takes to insure my success. The sacrifice that I made today and am going to do with the rest of my collection is necessary. This is a fact, SO BE IT.

So be it. I like that. I think that is going to be my new motto for my recovery. “Hey Shane what is needed for your rehabilitation? Anything that is required of me. SO BE IT.

Obama has “Yes We Can!”

I have SO BE IT. I think its kind of catchy in a way.

I just wish that sacrificing something you love a lot that means a lot to you, did not hur t s o incredibly much.

I am returning to Buddhism again.

First let me start this blog journal entry off by stating that I am an ATHEIST. The word “atheist’ was all capitalized because I feel for the purposes of this post I establish right away my philosophical world view. I am very well educated to what that word “atheist” implies. Philosophy really is the art of thinking, and the word atheist simply means without a god or gods. I am not one of those atheists that are pissed off at my perception of god, or an angry ex-Christian. I’m also not one of those atheists that is undecided if there is a god or not. I can already see some of your mental gears and wheels turning in your heads. Yes it is true, I do not know if there are or is a Supreme Being that some people call God or Gods. I do not know if such an omnipotent and omniscience entity exists. “Well then Shane, mister know it all, that makes you an agnostic then. You’re not an atheist at all.” Like I said earlier in this paragraph I am knowledgeable to what the word “atheist” implies. I do not care whether or not a Supreme Being exists or not. This supposed all powerful entity or entities does not even do my laundry, pay my bills, or even cook for me. There is no evidence that a supernatural being has interjected or guided my existence in a divine what so ever. Because of those reasons I am left with the conclusion that there is no God or Gods. Thus I do not offer my allegiance or my devotion to any God or Gods. So by definition of the word atheist “without a God or Gods” I can be considered an atheist.

Now that that is out of the way let me get to topic of this thread.

The books that helped me the most are not necessarily self help books. The books I read are mostly philosophical in nature and science books. Books like Frederich Nietzsche, The Genealogy of Morals and Charles Darwin The Origin of Species and The Descent of Man. I read more contemporary science books as well. Authors like Stephen Jay Gould, The Structure of Evolutionary Theory, Ian Tattersal, The Fossil Trail, and Robert Broom, Getting Here. I also like reading about what our great American forefathers had to say so I read the memoirs of Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and Benjamin Franklin. When I want something a little more on the lighter side I like to read science fiction. My favorite novels are Frank Herbert’s, Dune, Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451, and Philip K Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric sheep. All of those books have philosophical messages that the reader can really gain insight from about life in general.

Because I had suffered from a very poor self esteem I felt a profound need to expand upon my knowledge. I completed reading philosophical books like The Genealogy of Morals and The Art of War. Next I added science books to personal library and when I finished reading them I had learned a lot, and yet I was also left with what seemed to me like very profound questions. So it was at that juncture in my life that I felt an uncontrollable need to discover what my place in this world was. Who are we? Why are we the only sentient species inhabiting this third rock from the sun ? What is our purpose in life? What is life all about? Why are we here?

I wanted to become more intelligent because I drastically needed to build upon my self image. However at that point in my life the quest that I had embarked upon seemed to like it had ended at an impasse. I arrived at an intellectual fork in the road. One road would yield more knowledge and education that I desired but it did not even attempt to answer the more interesting questions I had. Then there was other road that did offer some explanations to the inquiries I had at that time. However these supposed solutions were purely speculative, hardly even hypothetical in nature, and in no way based in real science or research.

Let me set another record straight that I am a huge skeptic. I do not accept something as a fact until that which is in question can be empirically confirmed. If claims cannot be verified by scientific research I do not place my confident s or trust in them.

So I decided that the questions I needed answered may be found metaphysical philosophy. Siddhartha, the founding father of modern day Buddhism said a lot of very fascinating things. He taught the Eight Fold Path and the Four Noble Truths. Learning the philosophy of the Buddha offered me a way of thinking, and more importantly a way of life. Buddha espoused that all of us, everything in this world, and even our galaxy is transitory. Because all sentient beings and all things have a temporary nature, it is imperative that their time be spent maximizing their existence. Simply stated, this is the only life we're ever going to have, so you better make the best of it.

Buddhism enriched my life and gave me purpose. Becoming a pupil of the Buddha offered solutions to all of those very interesting questions that we all have. My purpose in life is to be the best me that I can possibly be. I learned that practicing acts of compassion we not only help those we're assisting we ultimately end up enriching our own lives. Mankind should not be charitable towards our fellow man for promises of rewards; instead men and women should assist one another for goodness sake alone. That act of kindness would then leave the benefactor free of debt and allow them to have the capacity to repeat the same process to those who are in need as well.

At one point in my life those were my reading habits and what I had learned, and that is how my life was enriched. It was at that time that I started attending a monastery and I became pupil of the philosophy of the Buddha. I took refuge in the Buddha and Sangha and according Buddhism I was considered a Buddhist. I devoted my life to the teachings of the Buddha and it was not until I acted upon the knowledge that I gained that I acquired an education about my purpose in life.

Last night my wife and I went to the grocery store to get dinner. While we were leaving I saw these statuettes of the Buddha in the garden center. Well actually they were not the Buddha, they were Hoatia. They laughing fat guy most people associate as the Buddha is not Siddartha. That is not important right now for the purpose of this entry. I commented to Jen that I liked those figurines and that I wanted one of them. It was while we were going down the elevator that remembered everything that Buddhist philosophy did for me. How Buddhism both enriched and enhanced my life. It occurred to me that that way of living must be a lifestyle choice for me again. I knew how was going to recover from the devastation that AD/HD caused in my life. I am so confident in my decision that not following through with my plans will never be a viable option. The tools Buddhist philosophy can offer me are going will play an intricate role in my rehabilitation. I feel a PROFOUND need to return Buddhism. I believe that this is going to be a FUNDAMENTALLY important to my recovery and ultimately my rehabilitation. My mind is made up, I am going to do this.

When I was at a very unhappy point in my life, I was also the most at peace. I was working in a warehouse that I profoundly disliked. I had to get up at 4:15 AM so that I may catch the bus and start my commute. After spending two hours on two separate busses, I would then walk two miles just to get to work. Then while I was working I had to endure the abuse of my superior who was a very negative and unhappy woman. This person had no right being in the position of power over employees because she did not even know correct procedures while searching their personal belongings that she suspected of theft. One day she assumed that I had placed company property in my backpack and she proceeded to inspect my baggage in front of my entire department and coworkers.

I continued getting up in the early AM hours every day, I walked the two miles every day, and I did abide the horrible working conditions every day. I did all of that because to a certain degree that AD/HD would allow my mind was at peace. Buddhism offered me a way to not be at odds while engaged in an environment that was very negative. Buddhism empowered me; it allowed me to be in a peaceful state of mind. I need to return to that philosophy once again. I must go back to a way of living that can give me the tools needed to rehabilitate and gain control over all the dysfunction that AD/HD and my destructive habits caused.

I said earlier on in this blog that I am an atheist and that I am a huge skeptic. Those two facts have not changed at all. Buddhism does not make claims that a Supreme Being exists. Any demi-gods that Buddhism says exists are extensions of our own selves. Buddhism teaches that universal karmic law is a fact and that we all have had past lives. Perhaps karma is true and maybe I was a slug, duck, or the queen of Sheba in a past life. It would be wonderful to have the chance to eat chocolate again, have sex again, love the people closest to me again, and fall in love with my wife all over again. It is my fondest hopes and desires that everything that I just said above is all true. The word “hopes” does not mean “faith” the two words are the exact polar opposite from each other. I do not live my life by faith but by trust and confidence. I do not have faith that the ignition key on my vehicle will work because I conducted, observed, and repeated that process many time.

Everything, this whole entire long post is leading up to this moment. I AM GOING TO BECOME A BUDDHIST AGAIN! That does not mean I will wear robes. It does mean I am going to attend a monastery again. It does not mean I will shave my head, and if I do its not because I am a Buddhist. It does not mean I am no longer an atheist and it does not mean I am no longer a skeptic. It does mean I am returning to a way of life that brought me happiness, clarity, and peace of mind. I need this in my life now more than ever before.

Like Kevin.

It’s not really difficult for me to say who my closest and dearest friend is in this world. That person is my wife of course. That is not a cliché patented answer, it’s the truth. Other than my wife my closest and dearest friend in this world is also a woman named Shellie. I was given the privileged honor of being considered as one her friends while living in Tacoma WA 5 years ago (five years! It’s hard to believe that it’s been that long.) Since that Shellie moved to Seattle, married, and is now pregnant (due July 8th) to a wonderful person whom I talked about before. His name is Kevin and today I am going to dedicate this part of my journal to him.

Webster defines Character:
3. The inherent complex of attributes that determine a persons moral and ethical actions and reactions: "education has for its object the formation of character"- Herbert Spencer.

I felt that it was pertinent that I establish that definition first before I attempted to describe Kevin. I say that because he is a man that is not in any way shape or form transparent. He is a very complex person that has many different layers that comprise his personhood. Which isn’t surprising to me at all because his wife (Shellie) is as equally complex.

Yesterday I helped my good friend Shellie and her

husband move, and today I really feel it in my arms.

It was hot and everybody got really sweaty. As you

can see in these videos and photos. Mason whom I just

met yesterday worked his off, well we all did, but man did he work.

Kevin stacked nearly the entire inside of that truck himself.

We carried all the boxes to him, but he stacked nearly all of

it himself. We all helped with the big stuff though. Shellie is

8 months pregnant and she was made to sit down and just

put her feet up. I did not take any photos or videos of her.

First I would have to say that Kevin is a man that has the strength of his character. There are so many positive attributes to his character; I find it very difficult to list them all. Kevin’s sense of morality is very well matched his perception of justice. His ethical codes of conduct are woven into individuality to the point that they cannot be dissected. It begs repeating again that it’s not surprising to me at all that Shellie married him.

KEVIN FEELS! I typed that all in capitals and in bold print because I want the reader to understand what I am trying to illustrate with words. I do not mean to sound like a broken record, but Kevin’s emotions, his feelings, are very complex to describe. Kevin is in touch with his emotions on a very deep and personal level, which makes him very. He feels absolutely everything. Kevin's compassion for the people closest to him is only matched by his love for them. Matter of fact I believe that these two emotions alone overwhelm him on a monumental level at times. My friends love for life brings excitement and joy to all that come into contact with him. One does meet Kevin, they encounter Kevin.

When Kevin confronts obstacles, situations, and problems he is very methodical is his plan of execution. Most people go about accomplishing a task with some idea how they are going to complete it. Not Kevin! He is like a grand chess player where every move is already carefully planned out. When Kevin goes about accomplishing his goals, he does so with iron willed determination. He will not be detoured from his plan, and the word “can’t” is not a part of his vocabulary. On that thought I have to add one more thing my friend. Like everything else, Kevin Feels! He feels situations, problems, and obstacles, which makes it all very personal for him.

This video of this pond was dug out by hands

and sweat. Shellie likes to joke around that the

pond nearly divorced her and Kevin. But very

amazing to look at.

This pond really is a testament to how hard the two

of them work. They deserve all of the happiness

that they can get.

Not everybody who Kevin ask ed to help
him move showed up. Those that did show
up he was very thankful for.

People like his JR high sweetheart with the dark hair.

Kevin asked that I go around and take pictures of everybody.
He jokingly requested that I get pictures of the girls kissing.

So here they are Kevin, locking lips. I am
joking. That picture isn't even them.

I am really going to miss this house that Kevin and Shellie

lived in.I used to bicycle to there house rain or shine.

We had many BBQ’s in their back yard. We walked to the

beach on the 4^th of July.(sigh) Sad.

Here is a picture of sweaty hard working Mason.

That Guy is not afraid of hard work at all. I was very, very,

happy that Mason was there to help Kevin. Because I would

have had to help Kevin do some of that heavy lifting. I mean I

did my fair share, but the huge ass stuff they did,

Kevin is a man that can apply himself to any situation and evolve. When he is confronted with a crisis his adaptable nature enables him to persevere. Kevin is the kind of person that is capable of learning everything and anything he wants. I have never seen him not finish something, or complete that which he set out to accomplish. When I first met Kevin he was working in a paint shop, making $12.00 an hour. After he married Shellie he entered into an electrician’s apprenticeship program. He is now making $25.00 an hour and has two years left on his apprenticeship program before he will become a Journey Men. The complex mathematical equations he is learning is absolutely amazing to me.

I never felt like I had to earn the honor of being considered Kevin’s friend. That is exactly how I feel about his friendship too, that it is a privileged honor. I feel that way about all my close friends, but especially so with Kevin. When I am around Kevin I have a feeling like I am in the club. I’m not talking about just any ordinary club either, NO! When we’re together I feel like he is making a part of The Fucking Club Man. Like he is one of those guys. He truly is the prime example of a real mans man. He is not a snob either, he doesn’t believe in classism, and he does not have an elitist personality. However everything that I just said above, I know that those he considers as his closest friends, he didn’t just give that friendship away. The kind companionship that he feels, the close brotherhood he offers to his closest friends. That is not something he just offers to anybody. For Kevin to make that kind of emotional investment in somebody they would need to be very special.

Kevin suggested that he should take the scenic route out West

Seattle to prevent from going down hills and shifting the load.

So Kevin, Mason, and me we’re all riding down this beach in along

Alki in the moving truck. There were a whole lot of bikinis on the

beach and we were verythankful Kevin decided to take that route.

At one point Mason got out of the truck and got us all free
ice cold energy drinks, which we all consumed much later.

Here are some photos of Kevin and Shellie’s new home.

I am very happy for the two of them.

They both deserve, especially Shellie, all the

happiness that they can get.

After the long hot day we all finally got Kevin and

Shellie moved. We could not wait to get the rental

truck returned and go home. At least I got to go

home and relax. Kevin still had to unpack.

Kevin and I get to the moving company and we could

not believe it. The gates were locked and his was inside.

Kevin handled it very well. He politely called the company

corporate head offices and they contacted the manager who

in return called Kevin and we got the truck inside and Kevin

drove me home.

If there was just one person in this world that I would want to be, that individual would be Kevin. If I was Kevin I would be smart and good looking. Which two great attributes to have. If I were him I would then have a huge affinity for life and infect other people with it. If I was Kevin I would have the uncanny ability to adapt. I could make people feel like that they are a part of something special by just being around me. I would make people feel like that they are in THE FUCKING CLUB MAN! If I were Kevin I would be able to work and succeed, and not work at failing all the time. If I were Kevin I would have a wonderful house and great big fucking dog. I am not saying all of that to put myself down. I’m just saying it because it’s the truth. I wish I was like my best friend Kevin.

I felt like a huge asshole yesterday because when we got to Kevin’s new home I went around investigating it for the 1st time. I proceeded down stairs where there is practically another whole entire living unit and I saw his wife sitting on a bed with her feet propped up. I went looking around the huge down stairs, stared out one of the window at their nice back yard, and I started crying. I’m such an asshole. Here I am crying in front of this 8 month pregnant woman, on what should be one of the happiest moments in her life.

I was crying partially because I was happy for her. I mean she has worked so hard to succeed and get that house life. She has finally done that. She has a wonderful husband and a wonderful house. She deserves to be happy. I was also crying for myself, because I had a plan for my life too. Except the plan I had did not include having to work and fail at every job I ever had. It included working hard, and enjoying the fruits of my labor.

I find it increasingly difficult to believe people when they say that I am smart. I don not feel smart at all. I mean it too; I am not saying that just to get attention. Anybody that knows me can attest to that fact. Since I was 20 years old I’ve never been capable of maintaining employment for longer than 6 months. If I could keep a job longer than that I was extremely fortunate. It did not matter how hard worked or tried either. I could not learn fast enough to keep a job. So when people tell me that I am not stupid, or I am one of the smartest people they know. I feel like they are either trying to make me feel good about myself or they do not know me very well.

I’m being brutally honest about myself here. I want to be totally transparent on this journal. I cannot help but to feel that way about myself. My entire life I’ve been beat down time after time AFTER TIME! It never mattered how hard I studied or how much I applied myself I always failed. I wanted and did my absolute best to be different and I just could not change.

I do not know how feel differently about myself.

I AM NOT CRAZY! Really I'm not.

I had another appointment with DVR today and presented my vocational decision to my counselor. Both my psychiatrist and my DVR counselor feel that I have made a good decision. I have decided that because I am in excellent physical condition, I should probably take full of advantage of that fact. I decided that I am going to pursue a career as a physical fitness trainer. The credentials required to become a trainer are not that extensive. If my new brain serving me adequately I believe the certification process is only 6 months. I have interpersonal communication skills already. I am very comfortable talking to a large group of people, I am persuasive, I am extroverted and I know how to sell. Plus I am in the physically fit. Being physical fitness trainer would release me free from the confines of a desk and relieve me of the mental tasks required to be competent in that kind of environment.

Blogger yet again loads so damned slow. Youtube loads so much faster



What is going to happen next is that D.V.R wants me to be evaluated by their own psychologist. They want to be sure my disability is not so severe that I could not complete my training.. Which is very understandable I am just not overly excited about talking yet again to another doctor about my symptoms and the anguish I had to endure for the last 36 years.

I AM NOT CRAZY!

Really I am not going insane, I do not hear voices. I talked a little about how I have decided to give my AD/HD a personality. I am talking to him more now. Not like extended conversations. It’s more or less me telling him to shut up.

You see now that I am not having such a hard time focusing and concentrating, that void is being filled with negative thoughts. However these are not quiet, they’re loud inside my mind. The voice that I hear inside my mind is my own, when I have negative thoughts. It’s not an audible voice, its internal, inside my mind. I want to make that very clear

The other day when I was going to DVR there is this rather long hill. I was going up the hill with little effort and I was feeling good. There was a time when I would never have been capable of achieving such athleticism. Any AD/HD spoke up inside my head and said ‘see Shane, I gave this to you. Why do you want to get rid of me?” I ignored the thought and just kept riding. The question was repeated, and I said shut up. Then AD/HD said no matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you work, I will always be with you until we die.

THEN THIS IS WHAT I THINK IS REALLY FUNNY. Are there any more imperfections that want to take up residency in mind?

Another voice came up to my mind and said. ‘Don’t forget me Shane, I am going to be with you too. FOREVER! It was my love handles. I am fit and thin now, but I will never be able to get rid of my love handles. I told my wife “Jen is like they are taunting me, making fun of me. See no matter how hard you work Shane, no mater how long you exercise. I will always be here.

DVR, starting vocational rehabilitation.

Hello friends.

As some of you may know I have been diagnosed with severe AD/HD and I am currently disabled. Today I had my 1st appointment with D.V.R (department of vocational rehabilitation). I believe that everything is very positive, I feel good about my counselor, and the direction which she guiding everything thus far.

All of the rehabilitation I am going to be undergoing won't do me much good if I cannot learn to manage my daily activities. I do not have basic life skills, I am incapable of surviving on my own right now. From the moment I got up in the morning in the mornings for 36 years, my mind has been assaulted with so many different thoughts and ideas. I was not able and I cannot filter or decipher the overwhelming amount of stimuli and information that my brain receives. For 36 years I've been reacting to impulsive behavior because for the most part I was incapable of thinking about consequences long enough to moderate my actions. So for 36 years I created dysfunction and chaos all around me. In the wake of all that insanity I never learned how to live, how to survive. I mean I never even learned how to wash my own clothes.

D.V.R is providing me with a Independent Living Counselor. This person is going to come to my home and, and...well. teach me how to live. I've already briefly met with this individual and I am very excited about finally learning how to live. The prospect of being educated on how to balance a check book and expenses, its all too much. I am very giddy about all of this. When I started take my medication I tried to sit down and write a schedule that I thought I could follow while I am rehabilitating. However though I am medicated, I just could not focus long enough to think of everything. Having somebody else who can help me achieve that task is going to be so wonderful.

I am also very upset and depressed, about all of this as well. I mean I am 36 years old, I do not have a career, and I am incapable of maintaining employment. In addition to not having a vocation or having capacity to keep a job. In the 36 years that I've been sentient and bipedal, in all that time I never once acquired basic life living skills. If I was left to my own devices tomorrow, I would not know how to survive.

If one word could sum up my existence right now, my personhood, my individuality, can be described as pathetic. I am the institution from which all other think-tanks derive their definition from for how pathetic something or someone is. I know how I must sound right now, and I apologize. If you can, try to imagine yourself as tremendously relieved and at the same time extremely depressed. To complicate things more add hope and excitement to that emotional gambit. I feel like I am on an emotional roller coaster right now.

I've made my decision on what vocation i would like pursue, no it is not going to be art. However I am positive that I am making a good decision.

Shane

I do not have the answers.

I’ve been getting a lot of emails from mothers, fathers, and wives of people who have AD/HD. And even some people who have it themselves. People asking me for advice, what they can do to help themselves or somebody they care about.

(Freaking Blogger is really pissing me off. I can load this very same video on YouTube a lot faster than it loads on Blogger. And I started uploading on Blogger 1st.)

The truth is is that I do not know, I do not have the answers. I only know what worked for me and how I came to terms with my affliction. I cannot give anybody advice because I barely know myself.

So my best advice for anybody asking what they can do for themselves or somebody they care about. Find a psychiatrist and get on medication.

I start my vocational rehabilitation tomorrow. I am excited about that.