I once believed I’d write a textbook on the geology and geochemistry of ore deposits at some point in my life, after many years and many “publish or perish” articles approved and archived. That’s not going to happen. And that kind of sucks.
However, I’ve discovered that no matter where I sit or stand, when the opportunity presents itself I love to tell embellished anecdotes of my life, whether it was youthful exploration of the wilds of the world (definitely mania-influenced) or the jobs from which I was fired to the myriad of relationships left as so much pointy wreckage just everywhere. And the thing is, so much of this has to do with behaviors and actions resultant of poorly developed management skills for my bipolar, PTSD, anxiety, etc.
I’m going to write a book. It will be anecdotes from my life… perhaps strengthfully embellished with superlative hyperbole. It gets a laugh. And it will not be a woe-be-me chronicle devoid of introspection and extrapolation to my worldview and how I feel I exist in this world.
It’s tied together now. I’ve got a title. It is the weaving, meandering, and necessarily guiding cable bringing a theme and direction to my book. In large part, this clarity came of choosing a title.
This is going to be so much fun. Major studios, start bidding on film rights now.
Peace be with you.