Best of times, Worst of times

On Friday, October 3, 2014, my mother died at 6:05am. I was going to go down to see her today (October 6th) with Jess and Steph. She was in a nursing home and refused to eat or drink or take an IV a week earlier but I thought hearing we'd be coming down would mean she'd have something to hang onto awhile longer. I guess it's not all about me.

Twelve hours later Stephanie and Ben Fischer became husband and wife. He's a good man and they're a good couple and the day was tarnished a bit by the news of my mother but I held up pretty well. I was awakened by my sister Cynthia at 7:30 that morning and was told the news.

The first one I told was Peggy,  Then, while working out at the club, I decided I better tell Cynthia not to tell my ex, Diane about it, to spare Diane having to keep the secret until I could decide whether it would be better to share it with Jess and Steph.

At 9:19 am I texted and asked Cynthia not to tell Diane:

"Did you tell Diane? Let me decide when to do that, being Sxteph's wedding day and all. Thanks for taking care of all this. Love, Stephen."

 It was a moot point. When I finished working out we received a group text from Diane at 9:54 am:

"Thoughts and prayers with all of you and ur family. She was a great woman and I have so many find memories of Melba. She will be missed."  

I guess I could have expected that. Maybe Cynthia was right in not letting me worry about whether I should hide that or not but it should have been my decision.

The funeral isn't until October 18th. That's good and bad. Closure put off until then? Whatever...

Labor Day

Worst summer I can remember and Labor Day is Minnesota's official end of the summer season so good riddance

I don't go back and read past posts but I guess I should, they'd show a pattern. Once again Peggy has taken it upon herself to lash out at me and declare herself free of the evil nature I was put in this earth to spread like a deadly virus. This sort of came out of nowhere, as her fist text states:

Honesty without compassion is brutality so I could have handled that truth better about tomorrow. [going to her brother's].   But we are back to our old games already and we have to figure out a way of communicating when we are apart that is respectful and reduces uncertainty.  We shouldn't have to have synced calendars to say good night and good morning to each other like people who care for each other.  Why is that so fucking hard? I don't want mystery and intrigue.  I want to sleep soundly.

I tried the calendar sync before the last break-up, due to my memory issues, so I am confused and she's showing she's coming unraveled. But I was not going to give her the satisfaction of some two way text fight that seems to get her rocks off.

I asked her what it was that changed so much since she had just spent the weekend at some spiritual retreat:

Which part confuses you?  You told me on Friday morning that you understand why I run from you...because you are fucked up.  I do not want to be with someone who views himself as fucked up and even proud of it.  What are you doing to change that perception of yourself?  I just found all the recent stuff you put on Kickstarter to get funding for the lesbian porn novel again and the Rat Killer where you trash me and my alleged Adam's apple.  You sound insane.  You sound crazy on Twitter.  You are writing a public blog... bipolarmisadventures?  You sounded insane on POF in May.  Was it the drugs that you told me you changed and didn't that caused you to do that or is that really you?  Who are you now?  What do you want? Can you tell me?   Because I don't know.  And how in the fuck can anyone feel safe with that?

She was back out there online with her manic inquisitiveness. And I could have addressed any and all of these allegations, like whether I even changed meds, but these are her issues, namely trust, so I just let it slide.

She says she's OCD but this seems more than that. I find it fascinating and try to not take it so personally but if you throw enough shit against the wall something will stick. I'm almost 60 years old and I drive a bus so yes, compared to the other successful retired men she's been dating I'm fucked up. But she told me while she was with them she said, 'he's not Stephen.' Maybe I am just her booty call. And my body is hardly keeping up with those physical demands of driving this damn bus so we will see how long this job lasts. 

So, blah blah, she even sent me that above crap at 3am...

Then this afternoon I sent:

You have once again attacked me as if to be fighting back. Fighting what and whom?

I thought we had broken the pattern. Good luck. 

And she got the last word in:

Yay!  No money, no prospects, no soul, no memory, no conscience, no friends, a shitty car, a lying mouth, a preying dick and boring and glum to beat.  I think the grocery clerk would be doing you a favor.  Knock yourself out.

And then...

Free at last!  I am free at last!!

So I just texted my latest version of closure ...

You will never be free. You're free from me if you don't respond but free from your mind's delusions? 

Again, and I pray I have the strength this time, good bye.

Now what? A new season, another chapter, more resilience and a new twist, exercise. I do better with exercise.

She told me this blog wasn't even private anymore? Oops. 

My Body is Not Cooperating

I'm in pain. I've been swimming so I can't begin to imagine what I'd be like without that but let me document it here.

• My feet are in bad shape from that metatarsalgia crap. I ice them and have the gel insoles but I can hardly walk when I get out of bed in the morning and am walking like Walter Brennan by the end of my shift.
• I am not healing where I fell over on my bike a couple weeks ago. In fact, that's worse.
• My left wrist is now in my wrist brace I use for typing. I don't know what the hell happened to that.
• My right shoulder is coming in at about six out of ten on the pain threshold. 
• My upper back is about a four out of ten.
• I'm feeling a new level of pain that concerns in my lower back, like the makings of a ruptured disk. That's coming in at six out of ten and when I say six I'm saying that's a long way to go to be to a ten. When I feel pain at the eight to ten level I can hardly breathe.

All this is making sleep difficult and my mood less than jovial. Fuck. And now, as I type this, I'm contemplating going swimming. I'm in a depressed mood and am thinking maybe I'm working my way up to needing the endorphins to elevate my mood, which is a good thing if I continue to exercise. But my wrist? I'll worry about that when I finish swimming. Fuck.

Saturday:

I spent the afternoon with a woman I tried to find an attraction to but it just didn't work. I'm so glad she didn't invite me into her home, by rather to her address, and we rode around St. Paul and then I said I was simply not finished with the closure aspect of the last one and not ready. That's probably true but I'm back out there on POF anyway, go figure. The initial back and forths keep me occupied throughout the day while working, if I have a job. I sort of pulled too far ahead and the train crossing bar came down on top of the bus on Wednesday. That's not goo, huh?

Wednesday:

The death of Robin Williams hit me hard and the follow-up news hit me even harder. Not a word, a hint, a mention of being bipolar. I think I heard the word "mania" but I didn't watch much either. Jimmy Fallon used his whole show to pay tribute and on and on. So, I took to Twitter for my chance to make a difference with the likes of Matt Damon, Ron Howard, etc.

How cool would that be to just be retweeted or "Favorited" with a star? Of course, my delusions of grandeur got the best of me imagining me being called to talk on the phone, or invited to be on a talk show like "Ellen" but then my nerves took over and I have to go swim now. I'm up to a mile but my body is a mess. My shoulders are pretty bad and I don't know if that's from swimming or driving. I still have that pain in my right knee from falling on my bike and there's a pain of unknown origin in my left knee and hip. I changed positions on the couch and am sleeping the other way, with the board for support no longer supporting my upper body? I dunno, I just know I need to work out now.

I'm off tomorrow! Babysitting Mia but no plans in the works yet. Seems as though more than 24 hours is not possible with Stephie. We should take the canoe again since summer is almost over. Stay tuned! 

Back to the fishing pond

I'm back on POF.com. I even have a meet-up date in a few hours. She might be just what I'm looking for; a Scorpio, self-employed, funny, and a "floater" between kids so she can spend time with the grandchildren. Currently she's here in Eden Prairie. She has another in Colorado and hates Minnesota winters. We'll just have to see where that takes me. I've already rationalized where that would fit into my schedule and my goals for at least the duration of the summer.

I sent her a message while on break at work There I go again, writing too much. Will I ever learn?

Read your bio again. I really like almost everything you say in it. Okay, don't wonder, "what do you mean by almost?" I don't really think there is anything I don't like that you wrote but I'm not THAT transparent. Gotta have some mystery or what good is this early phase? I'm by far the world's worst at taking it slow with my feelings. What's that make me? Hopeless romantic or desperate? :-)

(Gulp) I'm new to talking to strangers on the phone. Be gentle. 
S

She wrote back, and I don't know if she's being serious or not:

New at talking to strangers" ....is that your way of saying I'm strange? Do you not like me? Where is this thing going? Geez, I'm a wreck and we haven't even talked. Oh, well, I'll call anyway. Going out to Whole Foods now. :-)

POF.com = Plenty of Fish.
I don't know what I want to come of this anytime soon, I'm sort of gun shy, but how can I not enjoy seeing a profile like this from WellAlrightyThen?

Wanted: sidekick, confidant.. partner in play! Someone who is ok meeting on the fly for happy hour, a round of street tennis, extreme goalpost golf, bowling, tubing or a game of chess … My trunk is a toy-box! (yeah yeah, pull your head outta the gutter )
Trunk inventory: tennis rackets & balls, a 6 iron, leathers, hiking boots, tennis shoes and flip-flops, floaty chairs (w/cup holders), towels, travel chessboard, sunscreen, bottled water and trailmix. (And that’s just the front half.)
I heard back from her and she said we could be friends. She's up in "Friendly Fridley"

Then there's the type who just take my breath away. Like this other Scorpio, trapped out in a city west of the Twin Cities.

Someone that likes to laugh and enjoy life and is comfortable just "being". Someone that I'm attracted to, but not in a plainly physical or sexual sense, but because I like to be with them and near them. 

But they can't even come up with their own words? Bummer

If you steal, may you steal all of my sorrows. If you lie, may you lie all of the nights of my life beside me. If you cheat, may it be death that you cheat. Then I will know I found true love.

I googled the last part, and she stole it from somewhere but so what? You know me and those Scorpio women, or you should. I fear and admire them at the same time.

The bottom line here is that I can read these profiles and exchange messages and it keeps my self-talk on what is now becoming a pretty routine job more positive than wondering what personality a sad, sick person is going to display that day. Who needs that?

Where's this all leave my feelings and my brainwaves? It's stressful meeting new people. And so soon after such an attack on my very soul? Okay, not my soul, but trying to shake the foundation of how mentally healty I am can have an impact on my self-awareness and make me self-conscious. I talked with Jane on the phone last night for about an hour. She has a great voice and cute accent. She asked me what my book was about so I told her about "TBTBF," not "Rat Killer." I do learn some things from my mistakes.

What about the concept of having more than one female friend? Of course, my libido says more than one intimate friend, but is that so wrong? We're not children here.

My first quarter ton pick-up
I picked up Joy at the library. She was my last ride. She was squeezed into her over-sized chair and the first thing I did was think she had literally shit herself. The seatbelt extender wasn't big enough for her. And when I got her off the bus I had to peek to see if she had left a shit stain left behind on the seat I'd have to clean up or at least report. She was at least 500 pounds and it was so sad. But even sadder is how I'm struggling with not judging her. Sure, maybe she has a thyroid problem, but I couldn't ask, could I?  "Is this condition your fault or a medical issue out of your control?" And she was bigger than this photo.

And she has a nice face but I could not get past the fact that she shit herself. And she was going for sympathy the whole time. I called dispatch and convinced them to let me drive by the mobile home park she's shopping so she can get out of her dad's dining room. That meant 45 minutes with her instead of eight. According to her and her sympathetic story, her dad has COPD and falls on the floor every night, in the middle of the night, going to or from the bathroom. She can't help him and it sounds like he stays there until her sister comes to get him the next day. Her 23 year old daughter is HIV positive since she was raped at age 14 and she has a glandular problem that caused her weight gain? I'm thinking it's anxiety and depression, but who am I to judge or diagnose? She says she used to do stand-up comedy until, "I could no longer stand up." and she has a leg that had frozen up completely under the weight but now can move 54 degrees, whatever that means. She says it means that maybe someday she can drive again and "when that day comes again I'll cry," she said. I helped her get her wheelchair into the kitchen and she plopped down in the chair and said, "See? This is the only place I can sit until I get my own place."


What am I supposed to say to that? I knew there'd be days like that. Not to be sarcastic but I think by "the only place to sit," she might have included not being able to sit on the toilet? It was bad. It was quite a way to end the night.

Meanwhile, back on POF
No reply from the two above so I turned up the wick. I spent a lot of time on my profile. What do I want to portray? My sense of humor of course. And my writing skills. Anyway, here's what I have today, Friday.

_________________________
About Stephen
The job I have now is sort of like semi-retirement and soon will be four days a week. After decades of anxiety-riddled sales, I'm helping people, like getting paid to volunteer. What a concept. I meet everyone from 95 year old WWII vets to people who were homeless crack heads, and "saved" when diagnosed with cancer. It humbles me and I NOW TAKE NOTHING FOR GRANTED.

But sometimes when I'm biking around the lakes listening to my fine-tuned Pandora station, and I see a little old octogenarian lady hobbling my way, [i] (They share the bike trails now with the high water), [/i] knowing she's just one misstep away from months of physical therapy and taking opiates that make her higher than she ever can remember, (knowing all she could do to break her hip is reach for her last Bell last jar of pickles she'd ever can,) I am tempted to holler, "Get a job, you're hogging the trail!"

I've been to London, Dubai, Barbados, Hawaii, and 49 of our United States. I wish I was into digital photography then like I am now. But capturing that perfect photo moment after dusk on a glass smooth lake from the porch of a cabin (no mosquitoes in this dream) with a best friend is where I want to travel next. [b]Summer's half over! YIKES![/b]

[i]My downfall? Hubris. I always thought I was smarter than everybody else. Turns out, I'm just smarter than the Republicans.[/i]

1) I can carry on a conversation with all sorts of IQs. That doesn't assure chemistry, but it doesn't hurt. And chemistry? Duh??

2) When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? Did you appreciate that moment for what it was, i.e. [i]a perfect moment?[/i] Is there anything better than laughter?

3) Honesty is not just a virtue, it's a way of life.

4) If you suffer from jealousy and the destructive suspicions caused by jealousy, save us both the grief, I'm monogamous if it gets that far.

5) Viewing the "Viewed Me" page and then not getting returned messages is not good on one's ego, huh?

6) I don't actually converse in bullet points, but I do organize my thoughts in that fashion.

I woke at dawn this morning to the sound of the city. There's something about hearing the light, intermittent din of city traffic in the early morning hours that makes me smile and feel glad to be alive and healthy. I rolled over and saw an empty pillow next to me. It had an impression left in it as if placed there by an intimate friend and lover from times past, but it was just me and my pillows again like so many days and months before. I fought the urge to feel lonesome again, like so many countless mornings before this one.

Is that what I've worked toward my whole life, to wake next to an empty pillow? Not bloody likely!

Then I started to think, "Don't I have something to offer just one special someone or will I always be making designer coffee for just myself? Who will laugh at my musings first thing in the morning when nobody else is around? Who will get to use the bathroom first? Will I have to start gargling when I use the toilet at 4:30 am just in case you want me to wake you with a kiss?"

Then it hit me, "Why the hell do I have THREE pillows on my bed? Even if I did have someone special to occupy one of my empty pillows, that other empty pillow would still haunt me."

And no, ladies, I do NOT have throw-pillows, bring your own damn throw pillows. Better yet, let's sleep at your place. The city traffic is fine, but sirens at 6 am? City life can be overrated. 

Let's discuss the elephant in the room. I think sex is stupid and I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. But sometimes I just feel stupid. I'll probably even die doing something stupid, like texting while driving. I never said I was a genius but don't try to say you don't do stupid things once in awhile either.
___________________________________________
First Date
We make no plans for a next meet-up until we've said good-bye and parted ways. It takes away the awkward pressure to lie and say, "Hey, this is great, let's make plans."

In other words, don't take this all so serious, it's just coffee to see if chemistry is there.

Then, the second, (or third) date? I haven't been to Duluth for a decade. Really, maybe longer. And don't get me started on the North Shore... I lost all my pictures of Duluth, gotta start over. Summer's Almost Over!
___________________________________

I've been getting some nibbles with that profile. But what then? And the meet-up? I went a bit far with one and then she asked ME to get together and gave me her number. There is no physical attraction. I'll blame Peggy for that. I put up with psychotic with a body, what did that get me? A goal, that's what. How about the whole package?

Sunday:
I had a horrible conversation with a woman Friday night and addressed it Saturday, which made it even worse. She said I was being defensive and even combative in the conversation. In my defense, she started out implying that when she heard I owned a camera with ONLY 6 megapixels she didn't want to have our first meet-up a free photography lesson. Then she went on and on and I finally said, "Take a breath."  I guess that was the combative part. The pertinent part of mentioning that awful person here is that it hurt me to be rejected like that. Nobody likes that sort of rejection. I felt a need for some Buspirone but fought the urge and worked through it.

While bored at work I got one of those messages I hate getting, from a profile without a picture, and read her profile.

About Me

I don't have any hobbies or goals or aspirations. I am addicted to TV and junk food. I abhor physical labor and exercise. I am looking for a man with no redeeming qualities to spend my final days on earth with.

Well, that's hilarious and it was fun all evening:

And she continued to amaze me with her wit. She's 49 and widowed, poor thing... Says she's a homemaker. Who knows? Who cares? She makes me laugh.

Update on POFJustLooking:  She quit responding after I asked, "Do you like leather?"

I spent two hours on the phone with another woman, a blond, hilarious, successful, never had kids, and a real estate agent. I think I have one coming back in town this evening from her cabin up north. We sort of have something tentatively set up. Good thing because I'm ready to dive in head first with the real estate agent. The whole conversation was great, and we didn't hog the stage, laughed, asked follow-up questions, etc. Does it get any better than that? LOL She lives near where I work so that could be convenient. She's not a morning person though. Guess we'll have to work on that.

It's 9:00 in the morning on a Sunday. I've been up for two hours, eaten, shaved and dressed for work. I'm going to go swim and head in to work. Is this my routine? Sure, for now.

I'm finding something else interesting about my new life. I don't have to have noise at all times. It's been just me in silence this morning. Maybe that'll help me in some way? More focused? I dunno, that's why I write these things down...

Update on the realtor: 
She's a drinker... Been there, done that. And her photo is NOT what she looks like, it's four years old and she hasn't aged well. She saw that micro-expression of disappointment when I first saw her.

She knew it and sent this message after not hearing from me:

Hey, Stephen, 

Great weekend. Amazing amount of talking. Incredible to share that much... in that amount of time. Wow 

Also seems we ran into enough glitches to know that we are not growing a relationship here; but we did establish a pretty decent connection. I like you, Stephen; and obviously trust you, have entrusted you with a lot of my personal stuff. That would not happen if I didn't see you as a truly good person.

Glad we met. Glad we talked. 

I'm not slamming the door on communications here. Just putting out there what we both already know.

That is not to say we can't communicate..... just a different direction.

Be safe... especially while driving the bus.

Gayle 

So, since I see no reason to tell her she's a drinker, I wrote her this:

Gayle,
Ever ask yourself why a guy who was making well over $100,000 a year as a pharmaceutical rep was divorced twice and driving a bus to help disabled? I have Bipolar II disorder, those passengers are my fellow peeps. It's not as bad as Bipolar I, those people are crazy, get hospitalized during manic episodes or off themselves during the depressive cycles, and stories about their condition end up on "Law and Order." But I get myself into trouble with my sarcasm or just get "off-balance" and wind up weirding out whoever I'm working for. That's the premise behind the two books I've written. Fictional auto-biographies about the battle with the fucking Rx drugs. I was on one for 14 months and then developed a lovely condition called suicidality that was so rampant and so obsessive I could not even get out of bed without going through the whole litany of suicidal thoughts; who's coming to my funeral, what will they say, etc. And it was Seroquel causing all that suicidality! And on and one and on. So, the last woman I dated from POF was also bipolar but otped to use AA and NOT her drugs. I could have written a book about that BP I. Whacked!

So, I'm out there just meeting people that are great like yourself. It was rude and the timing sucked regarding meeting that other woman but it was something I'd only tentatively planned and thought I better not stand her up. Bad karma...

In other words, like that Seinfeld episode, "It's not you, it's me."
Take care,
Stephen


It could have been that she saw the micro-expression in my face that showed disappointment when I first saw her. Or she read it here in the blurb on first dates I updated after meeting her:
__________________

FIRST DATE
It says "FIRST DATE" and it should just be a meet-up.

This is one of the more difficult things I’ve been involved in since my divorce. But the alternative is to grab the next one who comes along and try to make it work? Nuh uh, let’s not go there.

Phone calls can be deceiving and raise the expectations and increase disappointment.

This first date is not a fix-up by a co-worker, family, or friend, (somebody we can blame when it doesn't work out), or asking somebody you already know to have a cup of coffee, it’s flying blind, and solo. That's a risk we all must take.

Sure, there’s a profile and some photos but anybody can show their best side in words (copying and pasting though? Really?), and have an old/altered photo whereby the first real encounter elicits, “Wow, you’re not like your photo(s) at all.” [And that can go both ways. I know I looked MUCH better ten years ago, who didn't?]

If I am to find my next partner, and hopefully my last partner, on POF, what will the first date have to be like to know this is finally, (and we all know what weight the word “FINALLY” carries), the right person for me?

Maybe the first date should be in two parts:
1) The first part of the first date should be exactly five minutes long. (Smart phones have timers).
a. Come on, we saw the micro-expression(s) when we saw each other for the first time. (Post a current photo!) Did we feel betrayed by the profile photos?
b. And what if I/you bumbled on the first four questions I/you/we asked/answered, and we interrupted each other two times?
c. When the five minute timer goes off we should then each go to our cars and drive out of the parking lot. Then, if we want to extend the five minutes to either a potential relationship or potential disaster in the making, we circle and land and call it the truly, really first date.
2) The second part of the date helps us with, “I STILL don’t know what I want for sure, other than my cake and eating it too, but if we like each other does it matter for a few more dates, until I/we can sort that question out?”
3) Then there’s the etiquette of who writes what, and how soon, regarding whether there is to be a second date?
Fun, huh?
_________________________
I changed this again, it sounded too cynical:

It says "FIRST DATE" and it should just be a meet-up.

It says "FIRST DATE" and it should just be a meet-up.

Maybe the "first date" should be five minutes long. (Smart phones have timers). 
a. Come on, we'll see the micro-expression(s) when we see each other for the first time. (Post a current photo!) ? 
b. When the five minute timer goes off we should then each go to our cars and drive out of the parking lot. Then, we circle and land and call it the truly, really first date.
Fun, huh?


I'm not a therapist, but I play one online:

Thank you Stephen. I know you mean well. I've been going to grief counseling for quite some time and stay stuck between anger and bargaining. Anger at the whacks that put him on the PTSD meds that killed him and regret that I stood by and let that shit happen. More than you need to know...huh? It was a mess. Part of me is relieved that I don't have to deal with it anymore you know? Part of me wants to put back in the tape and start over. Part of me says I will never find someone to love more than him. Part of me wants to move on.

I replied:

Thanks for sharing, I won't meddle further. But the meds and the quacks who prescribe them? I have bipolar II disorder and the hell I've been through with the meds? 

After 14 months on Seroquel I became so suicidal it was the only thing on my mind the moment I woke until I went to sleep. I was getting free samples and the PA who was giving them to me was out of town so I ran out and voila, the suicidality vanished. When he got back I emailed him and said what was going on and how little I was sleeping? He said, "maybe we should increase the dosage."

Then side effects from other combinations, like the sleep walking, the shakes, rage, memory loss, hallucinations, (entertaining until they scared the hell out of me) and going psychotic when I lost them all at the same time in 2007 on a plane flight... Rx drugs, and those who prescribe them,... But enough about me. I'm doing fantastic now, and suffer NO SYMPTOMS but that's why I'm driving a bus. My hypomania (not as bad as full blown mania) cost me one job after another from my erratic behavior. That's the full story on my dealing with my sarcasm. What sort or trouble can I get into driving a bus? Well, other than an accident...

So yes, I mean well. And you didn't "let that shit happen." I was not owning up to what was going on and loved to blame others but the actions I took were mine alone. "I take nothing for granted" is a quote in my profile. And now YOU know why I say that. It's not as cliche as "I'm happy to be alive" but I am. The ONLY thing that kept me alive was not wanting my mother and daughters to hate me. I was THAT close every time I saw a bridge abutment, oncoming traffic, or waking the fuck up in the morning. But it was nobody else's fault, and wouldn't have been, because I didn't call for help, I was too macho to admit my "weakness." 

Let me help if you think I can. There's no turning back now, you know more about me than I should tell before six months of dating, but hey, you're different. Then if I can help you, that would make me happy and isn't that what is all about? Then your making me laugh would help me in return. 
Stephen

Then I got a short one from her, paraphrasing: "I've met a lot of pricks in my life but you're a fucking cactus. I'm going to go out and do something stupid now, don't wait up."
__________________

Is this worth the effort?

Striking a blow for my sanity

Endorphins and other stuff

I have been swimming pretty regularly. I used to do a mile (72 lengths) with flip-turns, non-stop. I'm up to a half mile and my upper body is killing me. That's only about 20 minutes so I'm not sure I'm getting that runner's high. It feels good and I weighed in this morning at 178.

I had a mishap with the bus yesterday on my second call. I was feeling groggy, having skipped swimming for a day, and getting about six hours of sleep the night before.

I did it by the book. The impact was like I took down a pillar at Cub Foods but this was all I did. I filled out the report, etc. Damn, I need to drive more carefully and being more alert has a lot to do with it so I'm off to the club to swim.

It's over with Peggy again. That'll mean less stress for me and moving on with my life. I promised I wouldn't write derogatory things about her here and now I understand her need for that pledge.

In a broader sense, those who use AA as a religion are never comfortable with any form of prescribed psychopharmaceuticals. I did that abstaining for a couple years and I can attest to the fact that while I was in a hypomanic phase, which lasted for months, I was the last to know I wasn't acting within the walls of mental normalcy. Of course I blamed the brilliant woman I was living with, specifically her inability to get me to listen to her while her concerns were escalating. Then my boss at worked threatened to fore me and asked about my meds, which at the time was ironic because I had bragged for months that I was squeaky clean. I was exercising so I know now that I can say how great I'll feel swimming but I know now, July 16th, that it would be wrong to quit the one Rx med I'm on. 

And that brings me back to AA, the religion, the addiction, the radical fringe factions hat give the good groups a bad ne and offer excuses for far too any druggies and drinks to get help.

I'll put another spin on it. Here's some sort of rationale sent to me out of context. It is the total reason I am not the same as an alcoholic:

"Writing involves fantasy; alcohol promotes fantasy. Writing requires self-confidence; alcohol bolsters confidence. Writing is lonely work; alcohol assuages loneliness. Writing demands intense concentration; alcohol relaxes."

To them drinking does all these good things, but to a person who is creative during manic or hypomanic phases it is 180 degrees different. Substitute the word "mania" for "alcohol" and you have any of is pegged.

"Writing involves fantasy; mania promotes fantasy. Writing requires self-confidence; mania bolsters confidence. Writing is lonely work; mania assuages loneliness. Writing demands intense concentration; alcohol relaxes. [okay, mania does not relax at all] 

I can safely say virtually every woman I've been in a serious relationship with had been an alcoholic. What's with that?

"Paychology Today's" list of manic sptims can she'd light o why somebody might want to be an alcoholic vs mentally ill. I've been accused of being a multiple addict, sex, alcohol, drugs, chats, etc. give me a break, they are all part of the manic state. 

What to Look For

In the Height of Mania:

• Increased energy and restlessness
• Excessively euphoric mood
• Extreme irritability
• Fast thinking
• Inability to concentrate
• Difficulty sleeping
• Poor judgment
• Increased sex drive
• Abuse of drugs
• Aggressive behavior
• Denial that anything is wrong

Sounds like some crossover there, huh? So, would it be same coverage another alcoholic? What's it gotten me so far?

What to do, what to do...

I got it, I'll break my promise!

Damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead. Peggy is me without meds. She's my inspiration to stay on meds. She messes with my head.

Here's her latest "Dear John" letter:

I did block you on my phone but not email.  I did not appreciate you stopping over and pounding on my door unannounced ... that type of behavior is frightening.  I talked to my close AA friends and my sister and they asked me to tell you that they have no desire to engage you in a conversation about me on any level.  So you should stop asking me for their contact information.  Their view is that your erratic behavior of late is caused by your once-again abrupt unsupervised medication changes (Trazadone, Benedryl, Buspar, Lamictal, Depakote and whatever else you are/were taking) in the middle of new job, financial, family and relationship stressors and the resulting withdrawal symptoms.  You are projecting your anxiety and fear onto me, calling me mentally ill and causing me undue stress.  As I told you many times, I cannot be with you while you are self-medicating.  You call your diagnosis bipolar (which we both know was originally concocted by Sarah) - I see it as multiple addictions (sex, booze, pot, pills, chat)  that have never been addressed properly through treatment.  Your denial of your addictions has lead you to a lifetime prescription med use that has fried your brain.  I think you said your mother "flies with the geese" from Xanax or whatever else she took - well, so do you.   I sincerely hope that some day you realize that you do not know how to live in the world as an unmedicated person -- because you never have.  You can not do that on your own.  You need help.  Unfortunately, my survival instinct says to run from you or you will pull me down with you.  I love you but won't destroy myself for you.  I wish you would contact your brother, ask for help, and have him commit you for complete detoxification and treatment.  That is what I would recommend.    

I left your stuff in the garage.  I cancelled the club membership but you have until 8/8 to use it unless you send me back the card key.  I would appreciate you just dropping it in the mail to me because I know you don't have the funds to pay me now.  That would be the right thing to do.  You can set up your own membership when you are able. Goodbye.   

One week BTW

I've been B.T.W. (behind the wheel) for a week now. I could do bullet points as to how it's been; exhausting, boring, humbling, fun and low stress.

I've been humbled by some of the people I've met. One woman slipped on the ice in January or February. She suffered two broken legs, one broken arm, and the other sprained from trying to push the city bus off her, which came to within inches of crushing her. I think that's what she said, the acoustics in the bus are not conducive to great conversations. She's still in a wheelchair.

The busiest road in St. Paul, I-35E, is under construction, so getting around that is a pain. I have to count on the GPS voice directions constantly and I'm afraid that's keeping me from learning the streets, literally. I'm using that excuse for not knowing the roads in a week because of my memory issues.

I quit the Buspirone:
I think my sleep is improving and I'm now more than 24 hours off the Buspirone all together, and am just fine! I think it had me a bit numb to the traffic decisions I have to make. On the other hand, Buspirone can decrease the side effect suffered from Depakote of itching. I've been itchy, especially in the evening, so we'll see how that plays out because I can't take Benadryl, it's on the no-fly list. Why not just keep cutting drugs out of the regimen until caffeine is a thing of the past as well as any OTC pain pills?

I'm swimming! 
How would I do this? I'm swimming! Peggy paid for my membership to LA|Fitness. I used to swim a mile non-stop with flip-turns. I'm up to a half mile with flip-turns and my shoulders are hurtin' for certain. I'm experimenting with when to swim. Last night I went to a club a couple miles from work and wasn't out of there until about 10pm. That made for not being sleepy anytime soon afterward but so what, I can sleep late. Well, in theory I can. I woke at 6:00 and did manage to sleep again until after 7:00, then did an 18 mile bike ride.


I took one day off instead of two. My lower back felt like the early stage of a slipped disk and my right shoulder felt like I had a pretty severe strain. But I'm exercising and off to the club now. That should take care of it, right? I'm not joking, that should take care of it. Swimming is the best exercise I ever did and I do not understand why I quit swimming since about 2000. But that's looking back and I'm moving forward, blah blah blah...

I spent several hours with Mia and Steph and had a surprise guest, Jennifer, Jess's best friend since two years before kindergarten. She told me what treatment to use on my feet. It's not the same treating metatarsalgia and that heal pain thing but it felt good so I'm going to get a squash ball and continue on my regimen.

We played the "Dora the Explorer CandyLand" version of and when Jess got home Mia wanted to play it again! I told Steph and Jen to go along with my being assertive and sure enough, Mia was tired of playing after her first turn. We all worked together and she liked it! So, off to Goodwill I went and got the "Dora the Explorer Chutes and Ladders" edition. It was half price on toddlers items at Goodwill so I got it for $1.59. At Amazon.com it's $31.00 plus shipping!  I love G.W.

I had a couple temporary tattoos so we put one on Mia's lower back. That's when I learned they're called "tramp stamps" so here is my Mia with her tramp stamp:

And the other tat went on her belly, of course:

N.A.D.M.

N.A.D.M. means "never a dull moment," which is my life. I woke on this holiday and had a goal of taking no Buspirone. I was getting to like my self-talk in that there wasn't much negative crap rolling around my head. But I decided I better check my checking account cuz I was on thin ice there. I mailed in my rent check, which is $720. I have my internet bill coming out automatically for $36 tomorrow. Oops, only $703 in my account?
WTF?

Peggy was hiring me to do some work around her place, first installing a shelf, and then painting. I told her I was a bit tight and would it be possible for me to put in five hours and have her deposit the cash in my account today? She didn't like that.

Here's the interesting part. I was looking at my payment history (which I never do, but Peggy asked me to), and "DietKing" showed up for June 27th for $74.99. I didn't catch that, Peggy did.

After more than an hour, three phone calls, etc. and taking not just half a Buspirone but a whole one, I'm back on track. I came home to capture the moment and then I'm off to swim and then to paint.

She saw this weakness in me, i.e. my anxiety when I try to handle my finances. She is going to help me with it, and that's a concern. I don't want her to feel resentment for that later. But I need help, or do I? Is that enabling me? I dunno.

We're going to ride bikes downtown at dusk after she gets back from a pool party while I'm painging. I have $18 dollar coins to my name that Mark gave me for Christmas. I don't want to borrow money from Peggy. But maybe she'll buy me something to eat downtown.

I'm really that broke.

My first week day driving alone!

I start work today at 1 pm. My emotions are many and varied. It’s been a week since training so even the basic stuff, like pre-trip check-off and how to do the online manifest are all but forgotten. But I’m on my own, good and bad.

It cut short my "vacation" but we had a great time Sunday at the Pride Parade and Loring Park afterward. Actually, the parade sucked, but I'm not a big parade guy. The festival afterward was fun and we took our bikes down there so Peggy loved that. I wore my diaper bag vest and they were handing out beads so I fit right in.

I told Peggy it would be like PG-13 Halloween but it was way more tame than that. I kept laughing that I'm gender challenged, so I wasn't sure why this person was getting such applause, other than great abs? 

I promised my "steady girlfriend" I wouldn't write about her but we revised that in my mind to mean I won't write anything derogatory that I wouldn't share with her, or more appropriately sharing things about her that aren't true, or slanted negatively, depending on who I was writing. I say this now because I had a great weekend with her, and have great times with her all the time, both at home and out and about. 

Meanwhile, back in my head:

As for my progress with sleep, I am getting a lot of it. In fact, I became quite used to, or dependent on naps. With the 1:30 to 9:30 shift we’ll have to see how that works out. My caffeine intake is more than at the end of my career with Nissan, and I have to decide how late I’ll be taking my last drink, which will most likely be soda like Diet Coke or Diet Mountain Dew. I'll play it by ear and make sure I'm not tired, not that I'm worried about it. But the naps, a rare thing for me in times past, are something I could get used to. Last night I slept about six hours and that was on top of about two hours of napping yesterday. That is HUGE progress in that arena. 

The money situation is precarious. Two weeks with no pay, (the original scenario if I would have had to wait until they assumed it would take), and I’d have been in rough shape. One week out or work still sucks, and an offer for about ten hours of painting at my girlfriend’s house for $15/hour will help but still cutting it close. I also get to hang a shelf for her, so I'll be diligent and put in some hours and make the financial worries dissipate. They're not going away anytime soon. My car has overdue repairs in the hundreds and I am nowhere on how to tackle the educational loans. All this job is going to do is make ends meet with less stress.

So, how am I feeling? Hell, I’m somewhere between scared and nervous, or is that anxious?  Yeah, that’s the ticket.

I better overcome that anxious feeling quick, and I’m sure I will. I need to be completely safe and alert while driving because one accident that’s my fault and I’m out of a job. And the camera never blinks. It’s like a black box, recording everything but not storing it unless it feels a sudden jarring. Then, it goes back twenty seconds and  records the next twenty seconds.

I started  swimming! Peggy gave me a three day pass and now she's going to sign me up under a friends and family program. In the olden days I was doing 72 lengths (one mile) non-stop with flip turns. I'm trying to remember how long that's been and the best I can recall is that it was before 2001 at least, if not longer. I'm up to half a mile and it will get better. The feeling afterward is not quite the full dose of endorphin's but I know it's coming and it'll be my drug of choice when that kicks in.

Where's my head at today?

I've cut Trazodone out of my regime and that was easy. I didn't sleep well with it anyway, as I'm coming to realize now that I'm off of it. Peggy says her friends who got off of it took as much as three months to get over the need for it, or whatever the terminology.

I cut my Buspirone back to half again, and that seems to be fine as well. It's as if things are all fine as long as nothing rocks the boat. Then, I sense a disturbance in the force, as in a need for my meds, whether it's real or psychosomatic, (see a pattern?), until that blows over. This time it's different. I know I'm going to struggle with my route and I will struggle with the tasks before and after each pick-up and drop-off. But that's going to be fine so no reason to stress out about it.

As for my personal life? I'm going to get through this week and then go into next week. I don't know if I'm off Thursday yet. I also don't know if I can pick up hours on the 4th, which I will definitely do if they're still available. That could save me financially, and that could cut down on that stress.

My Only Regret While Waiting to Work:
I didn't get down to see my mother. I had to go to the food bank Monday morning so going last weekend was out. Then I got the call yesterday afternoon so that wasn't in the plans anymore. My mother's arms are so weak she'll be in the halfway house for some time to come. She's not dying but she could give up the will to live, as many do, if she is weak and pushed too hard to get back in shape. I was going to shift my trip down there to the 4th and bring Peggy, staying at my brother Dwight's in Lincoln. Oh well...

11:34 am:
I took another half of a Buspirone. I leave for work in an hour. Sure, it's stressful and normal people without anxiety drugs would feel the anxiety, but why on the first day? Too late, I swallowed it. 

The Morning After:
I thought it went well, and after several hours I had confidence I'd be able to actually pull it off. At one point they went over a new route and for the life of me I wasn't able to remember "I-35 to Hawthorne to 26th west." I said it over and over and hey, I did remember it. 

My new schedule hasn't been what I had hoped. I woke at 5:00 with diarrhea. I hope it's something I ate and not my nerves telling me something. Can't a man just have diarrhea without wondering the source of one's affliction on so many levels?  What did I eat?

My Second Day:
Talk about a steep learning curve, or is it a shallow one? Which way means I caught on quick? It could have been an easier scheduled route, and that I figured out the 24 hour clock, but either way it was easier. I forget things, like the word "manifest" instead of scheduled route but those will come.

Then I picked up a guy in a wheelchair. He moved his chair using the movement of his head only. It was as if a set of headphones were hovering over each ear. I got him on the lift and he mumbled to have me shut it off while the lift rises. Then we got him on the bus and I forgot to make sure there was a belt extender, so put his belt on improperly, and with apologies all round. I drove him downtown on I-35E, and stayed on the right side, which was the bumpiest road in Minnesota, meaning the bumps were magnified in the back of the bus. I apologized to him again. "Sorry, that road was bad. I should have chosen another route."

"They're all bad," he said. Was he being literal or just saying what his life was like?

I picked up my second passenger because I don't know if they are customers or clients. Then it was her and me taking the first passenger to his place. "Take seventh," he said. Only I didn't hear him. I asked the woman, who was what we term ambulatory, had to repeat what he said. Between my hearing issues and the bus noise, and him being in the back of the bus, along with his difficulty talking, she was a great help.

"Eventually turn right," he said. I heard that as I followed the GPS into the left turn lane.

"He said to turn right," she said.

"I think he meant eventually," I said, trying to be sensitive to the fact that he was right there and I didn't want to discuss him like he wasn't.

"He said to turn right," she repeated.

"You meant eventually, right?" I asked him, seeing him in the rear view mirror. He hardly has enough neck muscles to keep his head elevated, let alone kept from bouncing all over during the bumpy route. I wanted this ride to end. And I didn't have the belt fastened with the shoulder strap in the proper place, so I certainly didn't want to get in and accident or even stop suddenly, meaning the camera would come on, possibly showing my improper seat belt usage.

But I wasn't stressed out by it all.

"I've lived there five years," he said. "I know how to get home." Had he lived in that particular place for five years, and lesser places, or in the homes with family as care givers before then, or was he not needing this five years earlier? How do I find out things like this? Do I ask them? "So, what brings you in the chair?" Inquiring minds want to know, and I'm not being glib.

I delivered him to the entrance, thanked him, apologized for the rough ride again, and got back on the bus.

"Thanks for helping," I told my other passenger. "That was rough, huh?"

"Yes," she said. "That is so sad."

Is it sad? Is there a positive side to that? Is he a grandfather and able to watch his grandchildren grow up? Was he hit by a drunk driver? Is he suffering from MS and this was slow in coming and only going to get worse? Inquiring minds want to know.

Day Three:
I picked up a guy in a wheelchair, and his friend with a walker. Young guys, and seemed to be good friends. Then I picked up a woman who was also in a wheelchair but was blind. She had a PCA (personal care assistant) who might have been her daughter because she didn't help much. I let her off first. Then I almost said to the others, "You think you have it bad and then pick up somebody like that. I'm keeping my mouth shut so far. Good thing, huh?

I am going to see the president

The gates open in an hour and I'm going to leave before then. I want a seat, not standing room only. They've shut the lake down, roads, paths, boating, etc. It's as much of a spectacle seeing the security as the president.

So, what did I do to prepare? I forgot to refill my Depakote. I am literally all out! WTF? This is the first time so let's review. I'm going to be schmoozing with strangers for a couple hours and I'm going to be so self-conscious about how I'm sounding it won't be as fun and memorable as I'd hoped.

Plus, I sent an email to the chairof the Minnesota DFL and was thinking how cool it would be to be able to ask my question regarding the economy:

Ken,

Here is a different perspective on the job market. I took a $12.50/hour job driving a bus for disabled. I started two weeks ago and finished my training Saturday. 
I have to wait until at least July 7th WITH NO PAY for my criminal background check to come through, maybe EVEN longer. The real irony is that I'm waiting for the results to come in from Concord, NH, but I never lived in Concord. 

Did Homeland Security make it any more streamlined? Doesn't sound like it. 

I also signed away my private medical history and therefore had to have my psychiatrist disclose that I have bipolar disorder, and what prescription meds I'm taking for that. What happened to HIPPAA? 
Even before I had the interview I had to disclose my age. What's with that? 

This position is not to drive around children, (where I would expect major record checking), but adults. And while waiting for the results they can't even let me shuffle papers or wash buses. 

Plus, having left the last job I am now with no medical insurance for three months again, (required tenure to qualify), and then paying about $150 for very basic coverage out of my monthly pay? 

Did I mention this pay and benefit package is only because I'm now a Teamster with all their bargaining power? That's going to cost another $30+ per month for what? Did I have a choice of that in Minnesota?
I'll be there at Lake Harriet early tomorrow. 

Patriotically,Stephen M. Wigg

It was fun imagining a few minutes with the president. Now I'm worried about what I'd say to try to be funny, or too passionate, but not in any way, shape or form worried about clamming up.

I know how to turn an occasion into an event. How am I going to turn an event into a personal journey? What if I do fine mentally? Wow, that's the attitude.

8:20:

Why did I wait so long to head out

? They said the gates open at 8:30. I guess I should have wondered what gates those were. Not I be cynical but I think I'll be lucky to be able to see him at all.

CLICK HERE for the transcript of is speech. 

Shh... Can you keep a secret?

Steph's boyfriend Ben sent me a text this morning:

And then he followed up with another one this afternoon:

He's going to make an honest woman out of her. I'm a bit choked up about it and not in the mood to try to capture it but here goes. 

He asked for my blessing and I gave it. Then I tried to keep my mouth shut regarding me and my condition. It's not about me, it's about them. I told him about raising Steph different from Jess in that I didn't tease Steph. 

I also said I didn't have any money for a wedding. 

I asked about his religious stance. He was raised catholic and spent some time in a mega church when he was in Alaska. There's hope for that boy. Ben Fischer. I hope I spelled it right. 

That'll make an honest woman out of her. They've been together for three years and living together for a year or so. 

Two Week Vacation Already?

Two week vacation already? I joke of course. I didn't go in to work Monday, the 23rd. They hadn't heard back from Alameda, California or New Hampshire.

"You mean Nebraska, right?" I asked her. It started with the same letter so I cut her some slack. "And that Alameda thing was a restraining order, not some arrest."  I sure didn't want to expose that.

Let's make a list:

• I'm making $12.50/hour eventually
• I'm a Teamster, Local 120, but it's still shitty starting pay?
• My really bad benefits don't kick in for 90 days? 
• I had to disclose my age before I even came in for an interview?
• I had to disclose my mental condition even before I drove a bus
• I had to stop Trazodone cold turkey
• I had the worst shift ever for somebody stopping Trazodone cold turkey
• I now had to disclose a restraining order in 2005, or was it 2004?
• I don't know where that woman is so if I have to contact her I'm S.O.L. (shit outa luck) 
• And now I'm also on some checklist in New Hampshire?
• I'm making $12.50/HOUR EVENTUALLY!

I tried to call her yesterday but settled for a voice mail. In it I said we'd have to discuss me washing buses or something until the criminal background check panned out, I'm innocent. 

At about 3:15, (my shift would have started at 1:30), I got a call. The earliest they'd maybe have something back from New Hampshire would be about July 7th. 

WTF?!?

"I never lived there," I told her.

Bottom line? There's nothing First Transit is able to do and I'm not going to do much about it either. 

Making the best of a bad situation, I decided to take advantage of my time off by attending an event at my favorite venue, the Lake Harriet Band Shell. CLICK HERE for article on the event.

The band shell seats 800 but they're giving away 2,000 tickets. Doors open at 8:30. How early will I go? Do I want a seat? What else do I have to do?

On the other hand, the forecast? Not so sunny. It'll be like going to a rainy Woodstock but different.

I'm planning on getting there early, as in 6:30. Why not? The line for tickets that were being handed out yesterday at noon started forming at 4 am. That's early. However, this time there are serious restrictions on what we can bring. No packs, liquids, etc. It'll be like loaves and fishes, i.e. something will just be provided. After all, it is Minnesota nice, right?

Best Cadet Ever

"Who wants the early shift?" the boss woman asked. 

"I do," I said. "I'm up early anyway." I had no idea what the early shift meant. I wasn't sleeping well but concluded that the Trazodone didn't make a difference because I just don't sleep much with or without it. I'm up at 5:30 or 6 am as often as not so what the hell?

"His shift starts at 4:00," she said. "His name is Mike." Could I have picked a worse shift for my sleep problems? Some of the problems earlier in the week were of my own doing, having fallen asleep before 7 pm on Wednesday, for example. I even had a hard time doing the math. This was a virtual swap of my sleep cycle. I'd have to try to get six hours of sleep. I'd have to wake up at 2:15 am. Falling asleep at 8:15 pm? Not bloody likely.

Ever have that feeling when you only get a little sleep? You know,  "edginess and what feels like low blood pressure, and all of the sudden I would feel faint?" In other words, how much of these symptoms of four hours of sleep that first night were due to the Trazodone withdrawals? Come on, quit blaming the drugs, Stephen. How about as bad a schedule as anybody could have?

I fell asleep before 7 pm again. I didn't know that of course, and I play this guessing game. I fall asleep each night on the living room couch. When my Roku goes into stand-by mode, it displays a clock. "What time is it now?" I ask myself before I get the answer. "Oh gawd, let it be 1:30," I prayed. No such luck. I was screwed.

I was in another quandary; fall back asleep on the couch and miss the alarm in my room, or try to fall asleep in my room? My shrink asked if I had ever been enrolled in one of those sleep studies. "No, I have a bad mattress and both my hips and my back hurt so when I wake up to go to the toilet, it's too painful to get back to sleep."

I have another quandary that was worrying me more than a little at this late hour of 9:00 pm. "Will I hear my alarm?" I have a Radio Shack alarm that I've had since 1973. Problem is, I can't hear it if I have a sound-muffling pillow covering my right ear. The compounded bad news there is that my left hip hurts too much to sleep on, so my right ear is not exposed if I'm ever able to sleep in the fetal position. In fact, I usually get back to sleep by getting my iPhone and tuning in to Ira Glass on "This American Life." I don't like Ira much. Most news people are close-mouthed about their religion, Ira is a militant atheist Jew. I place the iPhone under the pillow and it magnifies the sound. It works nine times out of ten. That first night, or was it early morning, I listened to the whole episode. My luck, it was a great one called "Little War on the Prairie." What are the chances it's about the largest mass execution in American history and it took place in a little town an hour from here?

I only had to do this miserable shift twice, and the first alarm didn't even have to go off. I don't remember how much I slept, though it wasn't much. That's a new tact for me, i.e. not to fret about my sleep, as I'm lacking it, thinking back on it, or preparing for the next go-around. I was up before 2 am and had two strong cups of coffee, working on another to bring into work with me.

I drive from the southwest side of Minneapolis to the northeast side, right through the downtown interchange. It's quiet that time of night. However, Hennepin Avenue is an interesting demographic. It's a cacophony of taxis and black Lincoln Town Cars. If one ever wondered what the disproportionate number of Somali immigrants do for a living, the answer is found at 2:45 am on Hennepin Avenue. I felt sorry for the women who were walking home. Not because I'm a racist and it was just them and the Somalis, it's because a woman doesn't belong on the streets at 3 am in any town, U.S.A., let alone Hennepin Avenue in Minneapolis.

There's not a lot of things I'm sure of in my life, but I am sure the limos are not there to shuffle people to their jobs for the early shift. It was sort of cool seeing how the other half lived.

So, I get to work at 3:40, (five minutes early), and there are a few buses getting the pre-inspection. It's a whole checklist. I ask a guy if he's Mike, and then another.

"Yes," Mike says.

"I'm the one who's training with you," I tell him, trying to hide the combination of exhaustion, lack of sleep, and early caffeine buzz at the same time.

"I didn't know I had a trainee," he said. "Good thing you're here, I was just pulling out."

"Oh good," I thought. "And what if I'd have been five minutes later? I don't know a lot of things for sure, but if I had to go home I would not have slept the rest of the night. I would have just had "Dispatch" call him back to base.

Let me just say this about Mike; he's a 62 year old who doesn't believe we should raise minimum wage, or that there is such a thing as global warming.

The first day was fine. Mike had this thing he said that started to wear on me pretty fast though. "We gotta boogie." he said I was too fast around the turns and too slow to accelerate. I guess along with no concerns about global warming he wasn't concerned about the effect of taking a three ton bus and putting the hammer down to accelerate vs. saving gas?

There was no classroom time for training on the Mentor Engineering Ranger system, and that sucked at 4:00 am. I had to drive streets I didn't know and mess with the system at the same time. The concept is cool but implementing it on no sleep? I live to tell about it. Or, I guess I could sarcastically say I guess I understand why they don't let us talk on our cell phones, it would be one too many things to worry about.

I'm looking at the paper manifest, and then the Ranger screen and then I hear, "Let's boogie."

I'm not saying he wasn't a good trainer, I'm saying I don't boogie before sunrise. On the bright side of things, sunrise was about 5 am and there was something sort of cool about seeing that come up on a sleepy town until rush hour hit. At that point I was four hours into a stressful workday with a huge bus and new equipment, being led around by a republican. What's wrong with this picture?

I'm heavy on the graphics and light on the brain dump for a reason; how many ways can one describe exhaustion? There's a saying that's even on the lapel of our florescent green vests, "If you can't do it safely, don't do it." I shouldn't have been driving as long as I did without a break Saturday morning.

I was barely able to keep the bus on the road for a bit. I was totally discombobulated trying to figure out where I was without the GPS. I know, I hate learning curves, but we were heading to the VA hospital for the third time and I thought it was a route I'd taken before, looking for landmarks that would help me. My internal compass was spinning like Admiral Byrd's on the North Pole, so that wasn't any good. I told Mike about 8:00 I needed a break but we had to boogie to get our vet in purple velvet jogging suit to his destination. Who knows, maybe Mike was a homophobe as well. What are the chances?

I guess the low point was merging onto 55 mph traffic at 20 mph and having Mike holler, "you're merging onto 55 mile per hour traffic at 20 miles per hour, we have to boogie."

I apologized more than once, and confessed I wasn't alert enough for that last venture. I sort of mentioned that I had asked for our 8:00 lunch break, or at least hinted at him driving but he didn't hear me or something.

As the say wore on I was starting to suspect he was picking on me. There's a gyro-scope thing on the steering column. It has three or four green lights and the same in orange lights. I think there are four orange ones, the fifth could be the dreaded red one. If a driver sets the red one off the camera records the previous 15 seconds and the next 15 seconds. It's sort of like the airline black box, i.e. it's always recording, just not storing it.

Here's what sets the camera off:

• Stopping too quickly
• Hitting a curve
• Cornering too sharply
• Mike yelling at me

I was driving along the scenic route from Minneapolis to St. Paul along with Mississippi River. I thought the lights were all magnetically triggered. Whatever the reason, it turned orange. "No, no no!" Mike screamed. as he saying "go" or "no?"

"How many lights?" he's hollering? "Did you set off the camera?"

"I didn't watch how many lights," I told him honestly. "I was watching the road." I wanted to say, "I was watching the fucking road and trying to decipher if you were backseat driving and saying go or stop.  "What would have happened if I had not tried to stop?" I asked.

"You would have run the red light," he said.

"Then what happens?" I asked.

"We would have gone back to base," he said. Then he used a term that sounded dead serious, like really bad, to describe what mandatory back-to-base means, and it didn't sound nice.

Okay, so it was the second time he was concerned about me setting off the cameras. The first time was defensive driving. I was on a narrow street and wasn't sure if the driver on my left was going to be giving me my lane or not so I hit the brakes.

And then there were the more than a few times where Mike, from his vantage point, was hollering, "You're going to hit the curb, you're going to hit the curb!" In my defense, I only hit the curb one of those half dozen times he was sure I would do so.

"You were so close I could have put a piece of paper between the curb and the tire and it wouldn't have cut it," he said once. What does that even mean?

The nice thing about his schedule is that he normally gets off at about noon. He was on that schedule of 4 am until 12:30 pm five days a week. He'd been on it for a year and a half. By the end of the second day, I think I had him re-evaluate his relationship with his wife of 34 years and such a schedule, and he said he might not keep that schedule forever. Oh, another thing about Mike; he has a cabin in the woods. Don't get me wrong, that sounds nice... in Colorado. A cabin in the woods in Minnesota in the summer? He hadn't been there lately, know why? It's been too wet. Know what that means? Too many mosquitoes. Did you know we know how to spell M O S Q U I T O E S in Minnesota?

Well, he had five days of eight hour shifts. I wanted to get going on the increased pay ASAP so we worked ten hour shifts. And that meant leaving home at 3 am and getting home about 3:30 pm. Near the end of the second day there was a traffic jam. Instead of the now familiar I-94 road Mike was running me through all sorts of side streets with all sorts of railroad crossings. I was hurting. I was tired. It wasn't safe.

We made the last drop and I asked him to drive back to base, I didn't want to push my luck.

How tired was I? I actually wanted to take a picture of the lift operation. I consciously had to make sure I didn't hit the wrong button while somebody was on the lift. What would happen if I hit "Fold" when I should have hit "Down", or vice verse? Or "Fold" while they were wheeling themselves onto the bus? Or any number of stupid things a person with little sleep, and being told to boogie by a republican would do. Each time I delivered a client/customer/patient/victim safely I phantom high-five'd myself. When I'm this tired, the little victories help. Of course, Mike said I had to boogie a bit more in the loading and unloading process but I'd get the hang of it.

"Good job," he said when we got back to the training room and sat there as he filled out the forms in triplicate with blue pen.

"You're the best cadet I ever trained."  I didn't say it but who decided to give us a title for two to three days of training? And why not pre-cadet, or plebe when we were doing the BTW training?

I got my schedule:
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday from 1:30 pm until 9:30 pm.
Thursday and Friday off
Saturday and Sunday from 11 am until 7:30 pm.

That's like banker's hours. I'll admit it, I'm a TV addict. If I am home in the evening I watch TV. I don't watch TV in the daytime, but I suspect Mike does. So I have a great schedule and only one hurdle to overcome.

Now all I had to do was get my schedule and await my criminal record report to be cleared going back seven years. That put me in Minneapolis, Omaha, and Portland. My wife at the time had moved to Concord, New Hampshire but I just moved the furniture out there, stayed two nights, and was kicked to the curb. Guess where I'm being held up for my criminal background check? Yep, Concord, New Hampshire.

Don't blame her, I lost my meds and went psychotic. I'd have kicked me to the curb too if I were her for what I did. It was psychotic.