Feeling McCoy Ornery

Some days, my prescription anti-depressants just don't work, and my slight mania takes over.  It's kinda fun, so I'm not complaining.  But I feel like doing radical things now:  things like going into Son #2's room and screaming, "Wake up now you little shit" for no good reason.  I sometimes feel like howling at the moon, or like making love all day.

Of course, I don't ACT on these urges....they just exist.  That's why I'm only cyclothymic and not fully bipolar.  But I think the McCoy gene doesn't help much.  Seriously, all my McCoy relatives are ornery and not quite right.  I've spoken of this previously, and even included proof that we are insane in a previous entry. 

For example, right now I am investigating two web sites:  deathswitch.com and slightlymorbid.com.  These sites offer you a way to reach out from beyond the grave and let your online friends know you have died, or lets your coworkers know important passwords, etc.  I find this fascinating;  I have made many friends online who I would miss if they suddenly disappeared.  Seems weird, but this is the Information Age, peeples, so get with the program.

So, call it what you may, but I am definitely feeling McCoy ornery today.  Maybe I should go visit my Grandpa McCoy, who is having a very tough time after Grandma's death.  He misses his life partner.  We never had a funeral for her, and it got too cold to spread her ashes over the lake or to bury the cremains, so I feel like I have no closure there.   We need a good old fashioned Irish wake -- where we can all get together and get down and dysfunctional. 

Or maybe I'll just go back to that making love all day idea.