Handsome "average Joe" is down on his luck and needs money for his mother's operation. He kidnaps a wealthy heiress for the ransom. Holed up in his dank, one bedroom apartment they learn they're not so different...and a little about love.

There, I wrote a script for a Lifetime movie. Now where can I pick up my check?

I'M FEELING SUPER MANIC AND THEREFORE FEEL THE NEED TO WRITE IN CAPS LOCK. IT'S NOT THAT OBNOXIOUS, RIGHT?

I'm beginning to think it's impossible for me to write creatively when I've actually slept. Mike sent me a link to the National Novel Writing Month site and I'm feeling crazy inspired. By crazy inspired I mean very inspired. And also crazy. It takes place in November but I've got free time now so Ima just roll wit' it.

AWAKE FOREVER.

P.S. Happy birthday, Sabrina. You are incredible and I love you dearly!

My brand of crazy.

In my first entry of this piece of crap, I went into detail about how my disorder came to surface. However, I never explicitly said what disorder I have.

When I was around 15, I was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. When I tell people this, they often jump to the conclusion that I am schizophrenic...and in a way they are correct in that assumption. Most people have never even heard of this disorder, I know I didn't until I had been diagnosed.

I tend to believe in things like fate and burning sage to heal ailments. One of my most commonly used phrases is "I lost my train of thought." I'm nowhere near introverted, so I kind of dodged a bullet there, but I do have the tendency to become extremely paranoid about others' intentions (something that is very much associated with my disorder). I think that everyone whose ever met me can agree I fit into the last one.

Most of my symptoms aren't bad at all. I've found a nice balance between batshit crazy and having a social life. The general public still thinks I'm weird but these days more and more people seem to think I'm "quirky" or "eccentric"...and that's pretty cool. Having schizotypal disorder sometimes means the concept of matching clothes is lost on me, but dressing vaguely punk or hipsterish means people don't really notice or alternatively comment on how "fun" I always look.

I've embraced a lot of the facets of my disorder in the past couple years. Doing so reminds me that people don't necessarily think the way I do and I need to look at things from different angles if I want to truly understand and connect with them. I actually, for the most part, love having this disorder. It's kind of become my excuse to "not give a fuck" and I'm over 9000 times happier.

The only part I really, absolutely cannot stand is having an "episode". Maybe someone says something a little off-kilter, maybe someone does something strange, maybe I simply have a random thought...whatever the case, there are a few things that can trigger said episodes. What typically happens is I withdraw from the normal world because I am convinced it's not real and neither am I. I'll run on auto-pilot if I'm in a situation where I really can't escape but most of the time I'll just spend a lot of time alone trying to snap myself back to reality.

 It is the worst thing I have ever felt. You're not angry, sad, hungry, happy, anything like that. You're just scared. Scared and numb. On some occasions I'll become convinced I'm really a ghost haunting my own memories. The last big episode I had lasted about a week, I was literally afraid it was going to last forever. It was one of the only times I've seriously contemplated killing myself.

It should be noted that I rarely have significant episodes like that. I've never needed medication and if I force myself to talk about it when I feel a trigger it gives me perspective and I can easily calm down. It's really only bad during times of stress/depression and as I left my home, loved ones, and general "safety net" behind only 2 months ago, one could imagine how that may have held a large impact on my emotional stability. But hey, I pushed through it with the mindset that things would get better. And they did. I may have embraced some of these "quirks" but my disorder does not define me. I don't let anyone or anything hinder my potential as a human being, this is no different.

I'm going to try to make it a point to write every single day, even if it's short and horrible. I read this little piece of advice Chuck Palahnuik gave for aspiring writers not too long ago...he said that you should dedicate 20 minutes a day to writing. It can be total bullshit and if you're really not into it that day, you can stop at 20 minutes and just be done with it...but often times you find yourself really getting into it at that point and want to continue after your time is up. So that's what I plan on doing.

It's almost 8AM and I haven't slept yet so my thoughts are bound to be a bit erratic. In fact, I'm not even going to attempt to keep them organized right now.

I spent the last year or so learning how to be truly content in any environment. Now I feel like I'm learning how to be truly fulfilled, too. I thought for a long time you would have to choose between the two and I don't believe that very much at all these days. It's fucking incredible.

I lost body fat and gained quite a bit of muscle since I've been in Florida. The waistline to my pants are loose, the pant legs are tight, my shirts are overall bigger on me but the sleeves are tighter. It's sickening... in the good way. I plan on eventually posting some before and after photos but I've been lazy with actually taking any. I feel confident that I could keep up with the roller girls now but I don't want to just keep up, I want to be good. I'm either going to continue to lose body fat so I can take the route of speed or start really bulking to be an all around badass. I'll probably end up bulking just because I eat so freaking much and have no plans to stop doing so.

I'm tired and sore as all hell now so this update is going to be abruptly cut short.

End transmission.