Quote of the Day, Love: Oscar Wilde

To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.

Go ahead and search it up

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Passion, Finance, and Dishes

(3 oz $94)
After filing out a contest entry for shoes,  a subscription of the fine literary institution and magazine of record known as Marie Claire showed up on my doorstep. I haven't indulged in magazine subscriptions for myself for a while, so I resigned myself to handing over the ten dollars. I started to read the silly columns about fashion with tips like wear shorts to work, and careers with ideas like, "put up an Ivy League banner in your cubicle."  The best and worst tip however was this one from the deep and thoughtful article, New Couples Rules,

"If dirty dishes cause tension, cut back spending each week so you can hire a cleaning service, then use the newfound time you have for something fun. "

Ok then! I'll just shuffle the funds from my chauffeur and chef to make room for the dish maid. The division of  housework can be a pain in the neck, but a glib suggestion like hiring a maid to do your dishes does not help anyone; not even the potential maid.  A bus pass would cost more than a person could make for twenty minutes of work. This ridiculous article sadly illustrates the incredible disconnect the wealthy have from, well, everyone else.  If you can afford a maid, you don't have to save up for one and visa versa. If you are going to save up for something, why not a house? Or, you could pay off the credit cards bill for the  $673 five inch pale pink suede heels or  $300 purple chiffon business shorts you bought at the behest of the, "deals and steals," column a few pages earlier. Consider a long-term investment in paper plates or this awesome new robot dishwasher! (click on the previous phrase to see the thing.)I'd rather have a robot than a maid anyway. It would be really awful to call your friends and say, "Come over and watch my new dishes maid." But to call them and say, "Hey come on over and watch my awesome dish robot," would be acceptable in almost any situation.

A great tip you can implement right now: buy a pair of rubber gloves, dish soap, and some sponges, turn on the water, and do the blasted dishes. One cooks, the other does dishes. If no one cooks, flip a coin for dish duty or have one wash one dry and put away. Think of doing dishes as  meditation time and a money saving venture too! Buy a  citrus-scented soap like Sud l'Orange created by marketing genius K Margeson.
top left. It's essential oils of blood oranges, sunflower, and grapefruit grown in organic greenhouses in Vermont will soon replace your in-home aromatherapy bills. Added bonus, it has flecks of real diamond dust for those tough burnt on foods and anti-bacterial silver too! Dishes never looked so glamorous!

Article quote: Henderson, J.  (April 2011) The New Couple Rules Marie Claire Hearst Publishing,  New York.
Dishes Photo: http://cbsradiobaltimore.com/main_bn/eyeongreen/2010/08/04/use-your-dishwasher/ accessed online March 29, 2011
Sud l'orange:By  me with the help of Publisher

Monday, March 21, 2011

Subsuburban Wildlife part II

So,I was up late on Saturday night and as I tried to get to bed I heard this weird yipping sound in the distance. Then the eerie howls started punctuated by excited yips. The howls and peals of glee at capturing some hapless animal and having a barbarian style feast seemed to creep closer. Now, I know that coyotes leave people alone for the most part, and as old cartoons will tell you are solitary creatures for the most part. I heard a group of at least five or six of them.  I remembered hearing about a "super pack" of over 400 wolves, . Could coyotes do the same thing? One or two isn't so bad but 400 of anything can be scary, even 400 hamsters would be unnerving.

Suburban coyotes usually look a bit like this

caninus coyotes

What I heard, I thought sounded more like this  x 400


Apparently in my mind, coyotes have become foodies. Tonight I'll listen for the frogs instead. As my dad says, "They eat bugs and sing you to sleep, what else could you want."

Pic credits
Wolf Pack: c http://www.feastoffun.com/topics/animals/2011/02/09/super-pack-of-400-wolves-on-the-loose-in-russia/
Coyote: http://www.informzoo.com/main/cat/17

Portlandia: Technology Loop

Sunday, March 20, 2011

New Candy!

I went to Cost Plus the other day and bought a few cheap bracelets for fun. I like their exotic food section and I happened upon the best ginger candies I've ever had. They are called Ginger Chews by the Ginger People and are not too hot or too sweet.
And,you can drop one in a cup of hot water and bingo, instant ginger tea. And, they work well to ease nausea a bit without burning your tongue off. Bonus!  I found a place on amazon.com that sells 24 packs. Whoohooo!

Great Blog by a classmate, please read

Crystallyn Galang and her funny stories about animals and more

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Verbal Gaffes 101

Yesterday I was on my way to class and as I drove down Broadway in Everett I noticed a new coffee stand. 
This is very similar to what the sign looked like:

It's name? Tsunami, complete with a tall wave painted on the sign.
I noted that it was closed. I think I know why. Maybe the creators genuinely don't understand that a tsunami is not just a gnarly wave to surf, I don't know. It was an ultimate case of  the collision of  bad timing and bad taste.

My favorite part, the jokerman font. I think it would interesting to maybe publish things like obituaries or other bad news in jokerman. It is so goofy that something like:
 I regret to inform you that you are being sued for $4 million.
or something more classic:

Your herpes test is positive

In the same vein: My sister took a class in  high school where the students were assigned to create an advertisement. As presentations usually proceed, students get bored. And though students had some pretty good ideas, the warmth of the room and my general lack of sleep contributed to heads nodding off and then jerking back awake in surprise. The last group was made up of two quiet guys who were in the skater crowd. They had dressed up for the presentation in shirts and ties, a big difference from their usual board shorts with a chain for the wallet and a t-shirt with a band logo. They were serious and they were prepared. Their commercial was of professional level; it had music, graphics,and a voice over, all in the age before photo shop and computer editing for the masses.Everyone was impressed and the room woke up. As the commercial ended, a graphic spun up to the screen and voice with a dramatic stage whisper said, "Genossssiiiide."
The graphic looked a little like this:
picture, me through publisher

The class clapped non-plused. My sister blinked a few times to make sure she had just seen and heard what she thought she had seen. She looked  over to the teacher, Mr. Saad, a millionaire at forty, he had taken up teaching and had a wickedly dry wit and was one of those people who spoke quickly because his brain worked even faster. It was clear that he wanted to laugh and like me, my sister finds it difficult not to laugh when something strikes her the right way.

The teacher, a true pro, didn't laugh and instead asked,"So guys, where did you come up with the name for this product.?"
One of the boys answered, "We flipped through the dictionary and I don't know, genocide just sounded cool."
"Did you look up the definition?"
"No, why?"
And as the teacher explained the boys began to understand the one flaw with their otherwise truly great assignment. To this day, my sister can make my chortle simply by saying in that same dramatic stage whisper, "genooociiide." It has earned us a few odd looks so we no longer use the joke in public. 
I only hope that when/if I get my own classroom that I can keep my cool as well as Mr. Saad. And I hope that I never make a gaffe like that in vocabulary use. Thank goodness for wiktionary.

Help Wanted, Apply Within

I have a long commute with very little to look at except for strip malls and other cars. I turn to NPR for the news for about five minutes but cannot stand any longer because it makes me cry and showing up for class with puffy eyes would certainly reflect upon the "professionalism" section of my grade. I then turn to the local alternative station The End or the local non-profit independent station KEXP.  On the way home last night sandwiched between an advert for engagement rings and a song about love gone awry was this little gem:
"I save the world every day," says a Tom Cruise like voice. "And no one ever knows it."                “Inquire about covert services at the CIA. Live the news instead of watching it? Equal opportunity employer."
The last part was my favorite because I would guess that, for example a person in a wheelchair or who was even just shard of hearing or wore strong glasses would have some major problems in operations. I don't claim to know anything about the spy game, but I'd guess that most spies don't secretly listen to someone and when they can't hear them yell out, "Huh? Could you repeat that?" So I don't think that last line is quite honest.  Is anyone else concerned that the CIA is advertising for spies? You would think that there would be a glut of people applying but I am told by a friend of a friend from high school who works in communications (putting up dishes and etc.) in Australia and the southern Pacific that most of the work is fairly pedestrian. Still, even he has to keep his work quiet. I always thought that the main reason many people applied to the agency was to be a spy, but in truth, I'm told many people are information analysts, translators, and office workers. Movies about a heroic file clerk would be pretty lame though.  Anyone who has ever read an Ian Flemming’ s Bond books knows that being a spy is soul-deadening, very important, and horrible work. Unlike in the Bond movies, the books usually end with our hero in a hospital recovering from multiple serious injuries, or a mental ward when M shows up and tells him to start again. I guess a Bond with PTSD, a neck brace, and third degree burns wouldn’t look as good in a tux. So for those of you looking for a job, the CIA is looking for spies, apply now, live in secret.... forever!

Monday, March 14, 2011


n an earlier posting, I made myself over using Instyle.com's Hollywood makeover tool. My transformations were made according to what the woman below (aka the Millionaire Matchmaker) says women should look like. 1.Straight hair 2  long hair 3.black eye liner  4. bangs if over 30  5. get a tan 6.If you have red hair, dye it. If you do not follow these rules, you are unmatchable.
Here is how Miss S. would makeover Bottecelli's The Birth of Venus. Even with emo eyeliner, still beautiful. I couldn't find any lipsticks that looked bad on her though. I also changed her eye color to violet.

the original

I thought I should give her a makeover using my rules:
So here she is: a pretty lady if a bit overdone and boobs out a bit much for day (or ever, especially at age 50)

Miss S. As she looks normally, note the boobs right out front
If other people can make recommendations for makeovers, why shouldn't I? Therefore....

Softer makeup, red hair, no bangs, and waves, she looks even better I think and notice that her boobs aren't  everywhere.

I think she looks prettier here. I got rid of the tattooed on lipliner for one thing.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Tightropes and Stilletos

Since I am single, I thought perhaps the Millionaire Matchmaker Patty Stanger (left) could offer some tips. Here are a few of her tips and a few from such excellent publications like Cosmo.  

What I have learned from reading Cosmo and the like and watching dating shows on TV or:
A Single Woman's Guide to Finding Mr. Right
Follow these directions:

Wear a really short skirt
(the tighter the better and no, you don't look like a hooker, really.)

photo from wickedtemptation.com

Be mysterious.
(Start a game of hide- and- seek and never tell him. If he knows to play,he's a keeper. )
image from: http://examiner.com

Get a manicure: preferably red 
(Claws= sexy duh!) 
image from http://longnailz.blogspot.com/2008/10/angelinas-sexy-long-nails.html

Wear the highest "f*#k  me" heels you can find
( If you can walk more than four feet, they're too low. )
image from http//shopzlot.biz/products/mudd-shoes-chunkie-black-heel

Do whatever is necessary to get long blond straight hair 
(Scientifically proven to be sexy ... unless there is humidity or your roots show.)

image from chttp://hairstylefashion.org/attractive-haircuts-and-long-hair-styles-for-women-2009-2010.html

Show off your sexy side.
(That butterfly tattoo on your hipbone you got when you were 19, show it off!)
image from http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-512321/So-long-thong-women-reject-chav-look-big-pants.html

Wear heavy cat eye makeup.
(Unless you look like a drunken raccoon, you've done it wrong.}
image from  http://www.eyeshadowlipstick.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/heavy-black-eyes-makeup.jpg

Order the lobster; it makes you seem exotic.
( Then only eat the salad.)
image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/phuson/2886049517/

 Get your lips done. 
( Lip gloss if  for sissies; go for the needle or go home!)

image from http://plastic-celebrity-surgery.blogspot.com/2010_04_01_archive.html

Always behave like a lady!
(When you twirling on the stripper pole, remember pinkies out.)

image from http://pictureofelegance.blogspot.com/2010/05/girl-in-white-gloves.htmlcaption

Go ahead; have a few drinks.
(Men admire a woman who holds her liquor like a linebacker and vomits like a lady.)
image from http://www.ehow.com/drink-shots/

Show just a bit of cleavage
(Show only two of the following: under, top, or side cleavage. Keep it classy.)

image from: http://www.imjustsharing.com/cleavage-yeah-im-going-there/B

Wear one piece of bold jewelry
(Worn properly it will hypnotize him to do your every bidding.  )
image from http://sliceofboredom.blogspot.com/

Have red curly hair. Be a decent person, educated, have a a kind heart, a sense of humor,   cooking skills,  and be semi-excellent at Trivial Pursuit!


Redheads are unmatchable; add curly hair to that and you may as well be a nun according to Miss. S. We are also supposedly, "difficult."  Well what the HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?! HUH?!!  I am completely even-keeled at all times and a sheer joy to be around in any circumstance! A ginger hater; that's what she is. And my hair when straight looks goofy as heck.
Well damn it!  I guess that I am doomed to a life of singledom. Good thing I already have a cat; now all that's left is for me to start knitting ugly throw pillows and  scrapbooking relevant Cathy cartoons.
I could follow her advice and look and feel ridiculous doing so. Or, I could just work on being happy. Trends are fun, and other people's advice is interesting.  but self-respect is timeless.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Dramatic Reading Of A Break-Up Letter by a guy who sounds like Mr. Sulu

I in

Don't You Know It's Gonna Be... All right!

I turned in my application for  student teaching on Monday. On the application, we were encouraged to write down any teachers with whom we especially wanted to work. During my junior high practicum, I worked with a great teacher at a school only two miles away from my house. On the last day, she told me that she would love to have me as a student teacher. Even if things hadn't worked out, I would still take that as a very nice compliment.
So, I got an e-mail a few minutes ago from the college's placement office and the teacher from my practicum has already agreed to let me student teach under her guidance! I can not emphasize how great this is.
After being told by advisers that that placement as a student teacher is often difficult and can take quite a bit of time because of the time and energy, paperwork and matching of a willing teacher to work a student, I am surprised and relieved to be set up!. It is nice to have something set already and a bonus is the chance to learn from and work under a great teacher. Also, even if my car breaks down, I can walk to school. This situation is a nice break from my 3 hour round trip commute to Everett and back. So in short, YAY!
I even received an e-mail from my teacher that read, "I am honored you requested me. And please call me (her first name). Call me any time with questions or concerns."

I am cautious about ever getting my hopes up too much or being to happy, (because usually if I'm happy something gawd awful follows pretty quickly,) but this appears to be a good situation. Thank goodness1

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

The Dangnabit Flu part II

You may recall a rant about a week ago discussing my fury and utter disgust with people who come to class, work, or just the public spots in general and then vigorously hack up all their various versions of the plague giving it to the rest of us. To bring a set of face masks or lysol wipes to class or work causes outrage and incredible offense. Apparently, I'm supposed to be flattered that a person would deign to share their precious virus with me. I'm not flattered, I'm dang sick and perturbed.
Because people in my program and other night courses are grown ups and pursuing time-sensitive degrees, missing one course is like missing four courses at a "normal" school. They are all dedicated students and most have a job and many have a family too.  As we all know, children are adorable germ an plague factories who innocently pass their contagions to their parents who then come to class much sicker than they should and voila! We're all sick. As parents, they are somewhat more immune to these germs. I am not. Now, I am not such a wimp that a mere flu or cold would keep me home from class especially during the crucial final weeks of the quarter.
Though I have an excellent doctor and I take my vitamins, umqua, and probiotics, I still get the dang flu and the worst version of it. I already had the upper resp.version and the stomach version. I got a sinus infection an ear infection, lots of throwing up, and vertigo. If it was just pain, I could get to class. I would be quieter and paler than usual, but still present. If it was just a matter of nausea, I'd take my various nausea meds and sprint out of the class when necessary. But, the pain is a good leve7 out of 10 (10 being the highest), the nausea is unrelenting despite trying three kinds of pills, a patch, tea, and candied ginger.  Showing up for class with eyes watering from pain , face a light shade of green, and stumbling around from vertigo is not an option. Add the long commute to the mix and you can see the problem. I just got a note from my adviser saying  that a she is concerned and thinks that if I get sick I may have troubles being a teacher at all. Ok ,just to state this for the record. Being absent twice  in four months is not that much. However, when I am in a class with (very nice, smart, and hardworking) people who have a freakishly awesome capacity to either not get the flu or to get a shorter non-throwing up version of it, I can understand how I would stand out. I was actually kind of glad when a few people stayed home sick; not because I wished them ill, but because it proved that they were humans!  Good news though, I have configured a method by which I will be in class no matter what. And, I declare now that if I see people with the damn flu and they do not cover their mouths when coughing or sneezing, I shall politely (and repeatedly if necessary,) say bless you and cover your bleepity bleep mouth (the bleeps will contain more PG-13 esque words) or I'll mercilessly pummel you about  the head with this sock full of oranges I just happened to bring with  me. It is a difficult situation because missing one day of class is like missing a week of class in a situation where classes go five days a week. Therefore, any absence is magnified 5x. ,
Here's the deal. I still have some pretty awful headaches from time to time. About 98% of the time, various medicines for pain and nausea keep the problem under control enough that I can come to class and work. However, if something exacerbates the headaches and nausea such as, hmm, a goshdanged flu bug that turns into a sinus or ear infection or both, you can see how my headaches would be much worse.
Because I had to deal with chronic intense pain and illness during my 20s and the first half of my 30s, I gained empathy, understanding, and patience when I find out that someone is suffering. Unless they prove my initial idea wrong, I assume they are hurting as much as they report, and if someone is sick, I assume they are miserable. Just because someone else could still function with these maladies does not make them any easier.
So my call for action goes as follows: Give people in pain and who are sick a break.  Do not assume that their absence from work or school is a prime example of their laziness and lack of dedication to the school or workplace. I can't speak for everyone else, but I can honestly say that I would much rather be in a classroom learning from gifted professors and with a super bright cohort, (heck, I'd even rather be driving down Brwoadway in Everett,) than lying here seeing starts, head throbbing with thousands of searing hot needles being inserted into my eyes and the world spining around me to conclude in throwing up. Also in the mix, I still have a fevor from the first round of this nonsense.
Currently, my head feels like the coyote's head in the cartoon above but with searing needles punching through me eyes.. and I feela bout the same color green as this background with the facial expression to match.
It is difficult for people to understand or sympathize with people who have ailments or injuries that are not readily apparent. For example, a broken leg is easily visible and you know that in time it will heal; that person will be free from the issues of the break in time.  Someone with a cold sneezes quite a bit and we understand that in a few days this will go away. People with chronic pain that is made worse by things like the flu are not quite so easy to read. Maybe it is the modern fear of butting in and maybe it is just plain fear. The idea of pain that does not exist to warn us as in the case of a burn or to show us to be careful as things heal as in the case of a bad cut or obvious coughing. Instead we have to take the other person's word on the issue and  living in a suspicious and cynical world means that often we find it easier to declare these sick people to be morally inferior or just not trying hard enough.
1. Try to put yourself in the other person's place before judging him-her.
2. Work on empathy and understanding. If you can't figure out how or why a headache could be bad enough to merit staying home and/or taking medicine, look it up on the internet or politely ask the person who's illness that you just don't understand what is going on. If you ask me, I won't be offended and I will always tell you the truth.
3. It is always better to err on the side of sympathy or empathy than on the side of suspicion and judgment. The truth is that most people are decent and want to work hard. The majority of people are not into pity parties, trying to get attention, or playing the martyr complete with sighs regarding their illness. Give  your fellow beings a break. The odds of you being treated well increase dramatically once you understand this simple concept.
Be healthy all, I'm going to suck on some ginger candy and go to bead then work on my coursework as soon as my eyes focus in again. My new plan means that I will come to class unless I am unconscious AND hooked up to machines. I'll be there with a cast, a bandage, a bucket, or whatever is necessary because now I have to prove a point.. Because now, it's on and if I am challenged and get ticked off, it is wise to not get in the way of my goal because when i start to feel contrary, nothing can stop me short of acts of God or nature. And really, I think I can probably figure out a way around those too. I will be in class unless I have an immediate physical emergency that requires immediate treatment such as a heart attack, internal bleeding, compound fracture, more than ten stitches etc. As soon as that emergency treatment has been administered and I am conscious, I'll be there darn it! . I may not look to glamorous, but looking good wasn't part of the challenge. Let it be known that when I was at the UW, I went to class only minutes after taking a flying flop onto cement resulting  in  a badly sprained ankle, a bruised hipbone, bloody knees. elbows and hands and I showed up. Yes, my paper I handed in had a bloody handprint on it and yes my jeans had rips where my bloody knees showed though, but damn it, I was there. I've showed up to class high fevers, throwing up (signaled by my frequent sprints to the ladies room), and much more. I am resilient and tougher than the average bear but even I have my limits.  It is not a sign of weak character or lack of dedication so please know that if I'm not there, it is for a good reason. Now forgive me, I see birds chirping and circling around my head and feel the world wobbling about. 
Take care, don't be shy using the kleenex and soap
. Stay healthy and positive everyone.

Coming Soon: A New Blog with an Intersting New Concept:

The High School Mascot
I am working on a new blog called
The East Lakehills Gazette

A fictional newspaper of my creation. First edition by April 1, 2011.

Coming Soon: An Almost ghost story!

GoD And DoG by Wendy J Francisco A happy little tune about the Almighty and our canine pals!

Favorite quote of the day

From The Social Network:
"I want to tell you something important. You will go through life thinking women don't like you because you're a nerd. That's not it; they don't like you because you're an a**hole."

personal note, nerds are fine, jerks not so much.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

I like Candy!

I love atomic warheads candy though if I eat more than three or four, they burn my taste buds. Oh well, that is how you can tell they are quality goodI don't care what anyone else says, I like Werther's candy.  I know that it is widely believed that only senior citizens like Werthers. Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm just old; after all AARP started sending me information as soon as I turned 35. Maybe they figure they should get me early while I still have most of my wits about me.

Monday, March 7, 2011


Hi everyone:
Please feel free to leave a comment even if it's just to say hello. Later this month, I will start me new blog (this one will remain,) Have a great week everyone!

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Funny clip!

Amateur Shrink of the Day

  You would think that finding out that the guy who seemed perfect and then dumped you suddenly is mentally ill would make things seem a bit better. It wasn't your fault, he was just hypomanic and every year around October, seasonal affective disorder kicks in and boom there goes the depression. It doesn't make me feel much better, but just kind of sad.  I wondered for a long time how my judgment could have been so horribly wrong; I can usually spot a jerk from twenty yards away.  It is more difficult though when the jerk basically behaves as two different people depending upon the weather. (To make things easier, let's give the guy a name. How about Mr. Y.?) Looking back, I can see some smaller episodes; Y would break down into  sudden crying jags or sport generally pissy mood swings followed by incredible periods of maudlin self-pity which would disappear within hours and then he'd suggest caterers for our wedding reception.
  Here's the scoop: falling in love looks pretty similar to a hypomanic episode. First of all, the idea that you have beaten the odds and found a great person who feels the same as you do makes a girl feel like she's won the lottery. It doesn't seem so strange that he discusses marriage and children after six weeks because you are both so happy and there is no reason to wait around. Right?  Try to remember that period when you first fall in love, don't you feel indestructible? As though you could conquer the world with only a gesture? As though God him (or her) self has turned the sun's warmth towards you after a very long metaphorical winter? Nope, it turns out that the guy you are dating is just crazy. He's done the same thing before and he'll do it again. 
(edit) I wouldn't be at all surprised if he had some new great love. After all, it was a pretty mild winter. (edit) A friend of a friend has told me that he has a new victim for this year. Again, she is the one etc. You would think by age 39, that this guy would understand destructive patterns. Yeesh.

The only thing he does differently is find women with different coloring; it's like his own Benneton poster of multi-cultural women. (As if changing cultures will cure mental illness and a -holishness).My guess would be that he's trying to hook up with an East Indian or someone from the Middle East. Oh and he'll dig them more if they're virgins and then insult them because of their beliefs. If you know a single woman doctor that is dating a guy whose chief claim to fame is being able to Charleston, you may want to give her a heads up. I sure as hell wish someone would have done so for me. When I met his family, it was as though they wanted to tell me something, but they couldn't. I understand the whole thing now. I wonder what they'll do with the new victim?
He also has a thing for doctors which again is ironic because if they have been in an elementary psych rotation, she should be able to spot it.



 Though all of us have been guilty of being in love with the idea of love at some point, we usually figure out the difference between the real thing and the concept pretty early on. The best lie is one you believe yourself and I, for one was fooled. I'm not alone in this at least, and again, that should make me feel better about my ability to figure people out. But, it doesn't: instead I just feel horrible for whoever Miss Y 2011, 2012, and so on will be. s and Miss Y 2006-9 were.  I wish sometimes that people had a holographic billboard that flashes "warning! There should be a scarlet letter J for jerk tattooed on the forehead of  (male and female) people who flat-out should not date, (or at least not until they get some issues squared away.)
 Crazy does not give you the right to be an ahole.
The problem remains that if I say that Y was a jerk, I seem insensitive to his illness. And if I chalk it up to mania, he ends up possessing no free will; and I don't think this is the case. Maybe he just now figured out that he has it and has not yet made the fairly simple deduction that he does the same destructive mating dance every spring and the same train wreck every fall. Before you deem me a monster though, read this.
·  . A few months ago, he wrote me a note telling me that he was taking a particular psych medicine. I looked it up and found out that it can only be prescribed if at least one other medicine for bipolar disorder has been tried and did not work. Therefore, he was aware of this problem and did not tell me, or any of the other Miss Ys for that matter. That omission left all of us wondering what we did wrong and why we didn't spot his obvious issues. How a person could go from wanting to marrying you and planning the reception for the next Spring to coldly slapping labels like, "needy, cold, talkative, too shy, too sheltered, or jaded," on us IF we can cook and want a family, we are ignorant peasants and if we are smart, we are cold and ugly. 
And in the grand tradition of self-unaware cookware everywhere, dubbing us as depressed or confused as to where the relationship was going.  In other words, Y could have gone out with Miss America 2003 who has her PhD in quantum physics and a masters in medieval Islamic poetry, is a chef, still competes in gymnastics, earns a million dollars a year, runs three charities to help the poorest and sickest people, likes animals and children, wants nothing from him except occasional sex and an intellectual conversation, (after which she'll go and sleep in her own bed,), and who agrees with him about everything, would still not be good enough. Her teeth would be too perfect or she wouldn't spend enough or did spend too much time with him. I thought the crazy notice would make me feel better and I am disturbed to find some real resentment and anger building up. Here's the deal: having an illness, be it diabetes, depression, or the flu, does not give a person the right to be a jerk or toy with other people's time and affection.  Being horrid knows no boundaries of race, class, gender, sexual orientation, religion, age, health, mental state, or season. The whole situation becomes even worse because it is possible that Y is so self-deluded that he believes the tripe he spews and still hasn't made the connection between his disorder and what he decries as his, "miserable luck finding the right woman,” because as he says, "they just aren't good enough."  Following this theory to its logical end means that statistically some people with bipolar disorder will be aholes. So will some clowns, some people who love to eat Doritos, some people with narrow feet, and etc.  I'm left unable to do anything with this new information. I feel it's my duty to the single female community, but trying to tell him about it would not only be futile, but also embarrassing. He would definitely interpret such a conversation as the workings of a desperate woman who cannot get over no longer being near his glowing perfection. And, he'd still be no closer to understanding or trying to change. As a thoroughly imperfect human being myself, I know how difficult it can be to change when the problem is clear.
To fumble around for the greater part of a decade in a kind of sisyphusian romantic loop is punishment enough. Still, I'll be honest, after reading some of the posts he wrote about me and the other Miss Y's of years past; I think I would be entirely justified in slapping him in the face just once. One slap for all of the decent women he strung along and left bewildered and wondering if they were crazy. One. Really hard. Slap!

  I wouldn't wish any kind of illness on anyone, but mental illnesses seem to me to be a special kind of hell. First of all, there is still a social stigma towards those who suffer. Though people rarely ever say so aloud, I think many still believe that the person dealing with a mental illness is somehow morally less capable.  One of the last bastions of socially acceptable prejudice is calling someone crazy. That word alone means that anything he or she says or anything he or she does can be discounted and ignored. No further argument is needed; just say crazy. After dealing with chronic pain for a decade, I have run into this line of thinking too. It is impossible to know precisely what another person's mental or physical pain feels like. So, when someone tells me they are in pain, I believe them and take them seriously. People can understand pain if the cause is obvious; let's say you have a broken leg and have orthopedic pins sticking out of it. That would be clearly painful right? You wouldn't tell the patient to toughen up and to work harder would you?  Still people see mental illness not as a complex mixture of circumstance, behavior and brain chemistry but rather as a moral weakness or perhaps a sign of not having the grace of God on your side and the sick don't.  It is easier to judge and label than to understand. Perhaps this stigma was so great that Y never tells women he falls for; he assumes that they will run. To be fair, many would. I think I would have. I looked up the medicine he said he was taking online and it is only prescribed after other bipolar meds have failed. That says he knew about it and chose not to take his meds. Every spring, he'll convince himself that he has changed through some series of exercise, diet, WoW, and talking to other dregs of society online and his profile will boast about his intelligence and gentlemanly ways. He will claim to love children and animals and his desire to find the one and get married. And the world is just lonely enough, that a few women will respond. He becomes a poisonous flower, blooming every spring and as it dies in the fall, it drags the whole garden down with it.
Looking into my crystal ball, I can see him repeating the same thing for many years. Finally, no women will go out with him because the word has gotten around and let's face it a 40 year old guy who still wants to date 25 year olds, that's creepy.  On that warm summer day, when he sits alone at the park and sees one of his summer women happily married and pushing a stroller, it will come to him that even though the mania may  difficult to control; his treatment of women was not. And as he goes home to a tiny condo with sparse furnishings except for the cold ghostly blue gray light from his computer, he will sit down and weep. And after a few minutes, he'll reactivate his account on every online dating site believing that women will flock to him and if they don't that he's too sexy for his cat and shirt anyway. He'll go on believing that in the past he has just had bad luck... believing that an inordinately large percentage of substandard females was sent his way over the years. He'll hit 40 and then 45, the paunch will become more substantial, being called long-term single and socially awkward will turn to the phrase weird hermit old guy. All I can hope is that in the coming years, his family or few friends who have seen this cruel pattern repeated will give the next girl a head's up.  And yet, he is still confident about finding the one. I guess he has one thing on me, either a great reserve of hope, or a great reserve of powerful delusion.

  "Hypomania, a less severe form of mania. People in a hypomanic episode may feel very upbeat, energetic and productive. To others they may just seem to be in a really good mood. This state usually can't be maintained for long. It either escalates into mania or crashes into depression. Seasonal Affective Disorder: A mood disorder often associated with depression. Can also be a symptom of bipolar disorder I. The patient will cycle in a hypomanic episode during the warmer months. This behavior may seem like confidence, happiness, or enthusiasm to others, but it is indeed hypomania. Patients repeat the same cycle every year as the seasons change. " (Wikepedia, Bipolar I and SAD)