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The Bar Logic

Photo from Pixabay She walked into the bar, briefly scanning the room. Through the flashing lights and half intoxicated patrons, she c...

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About

If you're interested in peeking behind the curtain, I hope you will enjoy the backstage tour!


Im not an artist and my creativity lacks so greatly that i am nothing more than recycled ideas. i am lunatic, and i chose writing to try and make the world make sense to me. hidden deep within run on sentences and cryptic forms of omission is the meaning of it all. everything that ever was, or ever will be. everything i write exists as pieces of a puzzle, only there is no answer... this isn't a professional blog. i'm sharing my thoughts and experiences with anyone who wants to listen to them.

This blog is my autobiography; emphasis on the "auto" because I've been on autopilot for as long as I can remember. The mask came off, so to say. I was given the choice, red or blue, but I chose both and now I see everything through purple glasses. My mind works like string theory, no beginning, no end. I can imagine every possible outcome of every situation, whether it has happened or was just imagined. At the same time, I have a sick detachment from the same reality.

I can't imagine why you would be interested in knowing who I am. Maybe you feel I'm charismatic or interesting and you want to know more about what created this delicious combination. Maybe you just recognize me from somewhere as someone else and you want validation. Sorry, I can't say too much about that without giving away the plotline. Whatever reason brought you here, to this page, thank you for your visit. Now let's drop the curtain...

Silver and transparent curtain


Act 1

Name tag with writing

I've been so many people throughout my life that sometimes it's hard to remember how it all started. Let's go back in time... No, wait, I think I've got it!

My name is Amanda, previously going by Ali because it was an abbreviation of Amanda Li. I never answered to Ali and I never will. In fact, I don't answer to any of the names I've been given in the past. The only name I truly identify with is Amanda. It was the first alias I chose for myself, back when I was browsing MSN chat rooms in 2001. Of course, you want to know more, right? But you don't really need to know my age or where I was born. Age is only a state of mind anyway and mine is somewhere around 1000 years. I'm a dragon, which is pretty cool. Though truthfully, I'd have to be the world's smallest dragon because I'm barely above 5 feet. But, I can always dream and in those dreams... Ah, who am I kidding? I'm actually terrified of dragons (and dinosaurs, snakes, alligators, anything that looks or has similar features). If I were a dragon, I'd have to be one of the horribly pixelated ones from the Spyro games for Playstation.

If I had to compare myself to a cartoon character, I'd choose Mandy from the Grimm Adventures of Billy & Mandy. Although I'm told I have a smile worth dying for, I rarely smile. I don't show any emotion. Much like Mandy, people call me cynical and jaded. The child-like wonder stage of life flew right past me. Over the years, I've developed sarcastic commentary as a coping mechanism to deal with this thing called "life". Most people take my comments as simple jokes instead of seeing the sad reality of my mental illness. Don't worry - we're getting to that part!

Act 2

Masks that represent the theatre in black and white


As early as 9 years young, I can remember thinking life is kind of crappy. It wasn't until I was nearing 30 that I accepted I had a mental illness. Several, actually. I suffer from depression, anxiety, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. Every day is a struggle, even just to get out of bed or eat. A constant war between my body and my mind. I never really have "good" days, I just have days that don't suck as much as other days. It's draining, but I'm learning to live with it. Well, kind of.

I would also consider myself to be antisocial (which nowadays is largely called "introverted"). I get my best work done when I'm alone. If I spend too much time around other people, I feel drained and lifeless. If I'm around too many people, I feel sensory overload and start to panic. Basically, I just prefer to be left alone (with a cat - always with a cat, I have 4) with no external distractions. Of course, the noise in my head sometimes gets loud enough to distract me. I can never tell if it's my anxiety making all that noise or the crippling depression that longs to suck the life out of my lungs. I take Zoloft to cope with it, but I don't find the medication does anything for the noise/silence combination. I do talk, and a lot (which is actually to fill the silence that I find otherwise deafening). When I'm not talking, it's because I'm deep in thought or unaware of the social protocol that I am supposed to be following. I've lost my social skills as a result of so much alone time.

No matter what, at the end of the day, I am who I am. I only want to surround myself with people who are comfortable with whatever that may be. If I sound like a loser to you, join the club. I don't know how to be loved, but I know how to be hated quite well.

Act 3

Keyboard of a typewriter

I was born with the mind of a writer, so my personal relationships have always been strained. I prefer to live inside a fictional world of my own creation. Can you blame me?

I started writing when I was old enough to hold a pen and I never really put that pen down. I am pretty much married to my career, although I would get a divorce if I could. Being a writer is a curse that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. If I had never started writing... Well, there's no sense thinking about things that can't be changed. The "writer mentality" is embedded in the way I see the world. I have to write to stay sane because if I didn't get the words out, they would eat me alive. Ignoring my ideas is like ignoring a wild animal locked in a cage. The end result is a disaster either way, so, why postpone the outcome? I pick up my pen or sit down at my keyboard and I let that chaos take over, possessing every cell of my being.

Because of this, my writing isn't the easiest to follow along with. When you read something I've written, you're going to wish you chose the Handbook for the Recently Deceased. It would be easier to read and honestly, dying would be more worth your time. The fact is: I don't write for other people. I never did. I write for myself, for clarity & to maintain whatever fraction of my sanity I can. There aren't any revelations in my writing, but there are a lot of philosophies about life and how to live it.

I know that everyone with open eyes is struggling to find meaning. But you know what? Meaning isn't something we can find; We have to make it. As Gerard Way wrote, "we only live forever in the lights we make." This, my writing, is my spotlight. My immortality. I'm sharing myself with you in the hopes that I can help you find your own spotlight.

I am not a life coach or a motivational speaker. Half the time I can't even motivate myself to get out of bed. I'm not trying to be a hero, either. I'm just a human being, and a shitty one at that.

Time to inspire on chalkboard

My main focus is writing about mental illness and struggling to live a productive life when you're suffering. I consider myself a philanthropist because I'm most passionate about helping people. With this goal in mind, there is also a blog section on this website. I don't want anyone thinking I have it "all together" or anything. I share my struggles and the lessons I've learned through the challenges I face.

My goal is to be 100% authentic in everything I do.

I hope that you'll find value throughout these pages, whether it's answers to your everyday questions or inspiration or simply encouragement.

Please, make yourself at home!

Black and silver couch