mychai's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

JP PSA

Ok, so what? I'm an attention freak. Looove the attention. If attention-getting was an Olympic sport, I'd be in the running for gold. If getting attention was a 90's band, I'd be Hootie and the Attention-Getting Blow Fish.

Every day, when I log onto this here diary, I look down at the counter and think, "Damn... it's barely moved all f'n day. Nobody loves the JP."

So, I scour the Internet for cheap and shameful ways to get people to read my diary. Because I associate hits to my diary with people showering attention upon me.

Oh... and incidentally, I also associate you ladies sending me naked pictures as attention, too. Just so you can feel like you can do a little extra for my self esteem.

I have come up with a few ways that you, a normal, regular reader of JP-Land, can help me get the attention I rightly deserve crave. They come in the form of nominations for different awards.

I don't care what you nominate me for. Just nominate my ass.

Go to the Anti-Bloggies and nominate me for whatever. There are plenty of awards, though "Sexiest diary writer" isn't one of them.

(can you tell my modesty has flown out the door today?)

Also, the Diarist.Net Awards have quarterly contests that I'm sure you all could nominate me for.

Am I groveling? You betcha. Patheti-sad? Uh-huh. So sue me. As quoted from one of the most moving quotes he ever said: "I yam what I yam." -- Popeye.


Question of the Day, which I've been asked at least a dozen times today:

So... see the Super Bowl?

Is "sorta" an answer? Because I sorta watched it. Sorta didn't.

I got off of work yesterday at 3:30, and the plan was for me to cook the Super Bowl dinner and head off to Terra's so the guests could eat.

The "guests" were originally going to be just her and me. But one of her gay guy friends decided to show up because his roommates were partying it up at his apartment and he felt all alone.

Suddenly, I was cooking for three. Which was no problem, but if I would have known earlier that it would be three, I would have made a bit more food.

I made some dry-rub ribs and some home-made BBQ sauce. Both were dead tasty, and I got rave reviews by the two people who tasted it. I also made some salsa which was good on its own. But it also mixed very well with Velveeta cheese.

And, for the tip of the iceburg that got me a good, "Awwwww!" from Terra...

I bought a bag of Terra Blues potato chips.


For a bit of seriousness, I will make this next segment as a type of public service announcement. Skip it if you don't want any seriousness out of my diary.

I'm a diagnosed bipolar with tendencies toward severe depression. It's no piece of cake, but I deal.

I'm not going to rattle on and on about how horrible it is. Because, well... nobody likes to hear a complainer.

If you don't have -- or have never had -- depression, you don't know what it is like. You can't even really comprehend what it is like.

Think of depression as another form of illness. Let's say... cancer. I've heard cancer is painful. And I've felt pain before: broken arm, headache, knee to the groin. But I've also heard that these pains are nothing compared to cancer.

Same way with depression. You may have felt blue and sad at times. But you know it when you are depressed.

I don't think depression is something to be ashamed of. I've had it for about seven years. The doctor I go to says I will probably always have depression problems as it is most likely genetic. This is definitely a worry for me, especially since I don't want to pass this on to my future kids. I can handle it, but I would feel bad about making my kids have to go through it.

Anyway... Depression is not something that can be controlled, just as cancer can't be controlled. It is a physical ailment. There are steps I can take to make the symptoms better, but the root of the problem will always be there.

I've had a person say to me very recently, "JP. You are strong. You shouldn't let a doctor tell you how you feel. Depression is crazy."

You can be as strong as you want, as happy-go-lucky, as 'normal' as you can be, and you can still have depression.

I'm in my manic phase right now. Since I am a master hider of symptoms, no one can really notice what's going on inside. Except for the fact that I haven't slept in 2 days straight.

That's evident in my baggy eyes.


Well, I am off. I should at least try for sleep. I have a hot date tomorrow. We are going to see the St. Louis Symphony.

Plus we are going to eat at--

Well... looks like you'll have to wait until tomorrow's entry to find out where. Terra reads this here diary.

Don't wanna spoil the surprise.

11:33 p.m. - Mon., Feb. 4, 2002

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next

latest entry

about me

archives

notes

DiaryLand

contact

random entry

other diaries:

sinnamon
unclebob
kitty-kaboom
mariel
stwig
eibisch
wicked-sezzy
johndavid
racer96
epiphany
switchcraft
roklobster