Ah, romance is in the air

Or it is in India anyway. A Diesel store in Bangalore, India recently gave away free blowjob knee pads with purchases of $150 or more. See? Romance!

I mean, what says "I care" more than a set of patent leather knee pads? Especially in such classy packaging! As if the image of a woman's gaping mouth wasn't enough, it actually says "Buy one and get one pearl necklace free!" on the side of the box. Honestly, what better way to ask your lady for more fellatio while simultaneously letting her know you care about the state of her knees? Or maybe you're just implying that you're expecting her to be on them so much that they'll surely get all banged up, and no classy gentleman wants a ladyfriend with ugly knees, right? Right.

Manic depression is one big fat bitch kitty

Manic depression, also known as bipolar disorder, is defined by the National Institute of Mental Health as "a brain disorder that causes unusual shifts in mood, energy, activity levels, and the ability to carry out day-to-day tasks." This definition is unbearably euphemistic and was clearly written by someone who has never experienced the disorder in question, firsthand or otherwise. That's not to say that it isn't accurate! I would certainly say that I experience shifts in mood, energy and activity levels, but they're no longer very unusual. Not to me. If anything, they've become terribly predictable.

You want to know what bipolar disorder is like? It's like this:

Bipolar disorder is like being on a silly little boat in a big angry body of water. Only you stay in the troughs of the waves for weeks or days, not just a few seconds. You don't stay on the crests for so long, but it's still usually a matter of days. The few days on top of the wave are always fantastic. They are called manic episodes. During my manic episodes, I have huge amounts of energy and I eat little; I'm outgoing and friendly; I'm impulsive, confident and I wear short skirts. The troughs, on the other hand, are miserable. I'm fatigued, withdrawn and despondent; I eat too much, and I lose interest in everything I ordinarily enjoy. I just want to sleep. These troughs are referred to as depressive episodes.

However, these aren't the worst. Not even close. The worst bit is that little bit in between, when I'm at the crest of the wave and I start to feel myself falling back into the valley at the bottom. It only lasts a matter of hours, a day at the most. That is all I would be able to take. It's like this:

I've got all the energy and impulsiveness of mania and all the self-loathing and misery of depression. This is dangerous, I've been told. This is when people attempt suicide, apparently. Not that I'd know anything about suicide attempts. I'm told these periods are called mixed states. Clever.

Today is a mixed state day. I'm terribly disappointed in my brain chemistry right now. I wanted a few more days of mania. Of crest, if you will. It's like being high. I need that high. It's the thought of those highs that keeps me going the rest of the time. If you've ever done cocaine, I think you'll know what I'm talking about.

During my manic episodes, everything I do is something I want to do. Even driving over the hill to Santa Clarita for class is a good thing. I enjoy everything, and it's fantastic. When I'm depressed, I only do anything I do because I know it's something I ought to do. Except the crying, I do that because I can't help it. Aside from the few moments of intense hopelessness and despondency, I'm like a zombie. Only instead of brains, I just want sleep. So now, it's like this:

I know that I have at least a week of zombiedom to look forward to before I can get my high again. I'll do stupid things to try to get my mania back, like listen to painfully upbeat music incredibly loudly or do the twist to "You Never Can Tell" in front of my mirror for an hour straight. I don't think it helps, but I'll keep doing it anyway. Just as long as I know I'll get my high back, I'll keep going, and I'll keep pretending to be happy in front of my family; they don't need to know, after all.

I should be studying, but

Instead, I've been watching this poorly made movie and reading the news. This is how I came across the knowledge that the Demi and Ashton Foundation (which works to eliminate child sex slavery and human trafficking) has teamed up with Jack Vartanian to create a terribly fashionable necklace to help raise money for their foundation. These necklaces are selling for between $710 and $2,760 on Jack Vartanian's website. 50% of the proceeds will go to the Demi and Ashton Foundation.

Clearly, the object of this campaign is to help raise awareness of (and money for) their cause, which is undoubtedly a noble one. However, I can't help but feel that the design of these necklaces is just a little, well, tasteless. Honestly, gold, diamond encrusted handcuff necklaces aren't exactly the epitome of class even outside the context of charity. Also, the fact that they released this collection of necklaces for Valentine's Day seems a little inappropriate.

Maybe it's just me, but I can't help but feel like using a symbol of bondage to raise awareness of a cause in which forcible bondage is often actually used is fairly bad form. Nobody would make earrings shaped like bejeweled shopping carts to help raise awareness for homeless people in Los Angeles, would they? Or a little gold razor blade pendant to to benefit a suicide hotline?

In response to criticism, Demi Moore told the New York Daily News that the necklace "symbolizes the bond of love and the importance of freedom." However, I am still of the opinion that Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore probably could have picked a less offensive symbol for their cause. I would also be willing to bet that if asked, a real victim of human trafficking would not say that the blinged out handcuffs represent love or freedom for them.

Risa's First Blog

Well folks, here it is. A blog of my very own. It's not like anyone will ever read it, so it's more like an online diary than anything else. I'm not even sure why I'm doing this; I need a life. All I do anymore is go to class, look for jobs and text people who probably don't really care for me. And now I blog, evidently.

As my blog title suggests, I'm not very bright. I am constantly doing silly things and making an ass of myself in the worst ways. You know there are those people who can do incredibly silly things and manage not to alienate everyone around them? Well I'm not one of them. It would appear that I am incredibly proficient at repelling people whose company I enjoy, while somehow winning the affections of people with awful teeth and greasy hair. Not that some people with awful teeth and/or greasy hair aren't good people, I just can't stand people with poor oral hygiene. It's one of my less serious character flaws, I feel.

Well, there isn't really a whole lot about me that's remotely interesting, aside from my large oddly shaped nose, perhaps. Nonetheless, I will attempt to keep my (probably imaginary) readers entertained with this silly little blog. I hope someone likes it, anyway.

Er, now isn't this cute?