Nana is 8 weeks old today and she’s just the little bitch you would expect from a German Shepherd of direct German heritage (her mother was imported from Germany). We’ve been trying to potty train her and she was doing real good for the first few days until she figured out she could pick up her water bowl and carry it across her enclosure spreading water everywhere. We put down Wee Wee Pads, but she turned those into chew toys and there’s no telling how much she swallowed before we just took them away from her. Finally, we resorted to taking her outside to potty between an hour to three hours, which usually works, unless she potties in her enclosure after only 45 minutes. There is one thing about her though, she is at least a week ahead of Rambo in intelligence and comprehension. She's already learned to run away if does something naughty, to put one or both feet in her water bowl while drinking, and trying to open her enclosure, which was inexpertly installed by the son of someone from Arkansas. Everything would be just a lot better if Nana wasn’t such a little bitch.

The writing is still going. I knew I couldn’t stop, even if I receive discouragement from unexpected sources. But, I have seen some new people reading my work and have received a few reviews. My Reputation has actually moved up a couple notches, too.

I am working on three stories that all relate to one protagonist. The themes are mental illness, friendship, homophobia, hate, love, and death. They cover a boy from the age of twelve to sixteen. The first story covers his memories of his childhood horrors of sexual abuse and drugs leading to residence in a juvenile mental health facility where he learns how to be a normal child. The second story concerns his introduction to normal life in a small town and a high school where he finds friendship with a Goth girl, a best friend who becomes his boyfriend, a vibrant gay culture, homophobia, prejudice and hate, love, learning how to ride a horse, and a little puppy named Alice. In the third story his life at school continues in the gay community, continuing his horsemanship, his training of his loving dog, his growing love for his boyfriend, and the death of the dearest object of his heart. I don’t know if there will be a fourth installment, but I’ll have to see what kind of reception I get. If no one likes it, what’s the point of continuing.

My mental state continues at a diminished level. I’m barely above being suicidal. I have been extremely depressed for three weeks. Tonight I told my son that and he said, “Duh, like I didn’t notice?”

To which I said, “It’s your job to notice; but, I understand why you didn’t. You have your own mental problems.” For the first time, tonight he admitted he was cycling between extreme highs and lows. If that isn’t bipolar, I don’t know what is. He goes to see his shrink Wednesday and I told him to talk to her and get her to help him. I’m beginning to think she’s reluctant to tag him with a bipolar diagnosis. The boy (he’s 40) needs help.

I’m calling my shrink on Monday and see if I can get on an antidepressant.