Almost Famous or He’s Finally Exhausted?

I am a perpetual, creative motion man. If I didn’t have a wife to spend time with and to let know that she’s important to me, I would probably write, make music, and code non-stop. It’s part of my bipolar disorder, but it’s also one of my innate qualities.

I’ve been in an intensive collaborative creative project for the last few months and will continue for a few months more. I am writing a podcast musical with a couple of songwriters. We just put out the first episode. It’s at the bottom of this post if you’d like to hear it. I did all the writing and the marketing and this Saturday I told my wife I was exhausted and in need of a break. Later that day, my wife got off the phone with her mother and said, “I was telling my mom about your project and that you were exhausted. She said, ‘He’s finally exhausted? I never thought that would happen!'”

It struck me as funny. I laughed at it. She’s a wonderful mother-in-law and likes to give a good ribbing from time to time, but it left me thinking. I know I’m exhausted, but am I exhaustING to other people? Is my perpetual motion a perpetual nuisance?

As someone who handles most of his own marketing, this is often a concern of mine. Are my friends just sick of it? Maybe less than I think, but I do think I can be a lot to take.

And what is at the core of all this nearly inexhaustible work ethic? Well, of course, I love writing; otherwise, I wouldn’t do it. I also believe in my writing. I think it’s worth reading, and I believe with the right visibility, my writing could catch on. I truly believe that it is a matter of time. This musical could be the lucky break. It’s a unique project that is getting a lot of play–much more than anything else I’ve written.

But I’m gonna be transparent with you. Deep down. What is this drive? I’m not even sure I know myself, but I often think about a party I attended in my twenties. My wife and I had formed a tight bond with a group of young couples from church. We called ourselves the DINKs (Double Income No Kids). It was such a fun group and was such a formative time for us all. At this party, a Cuban-born friend started doing a party trick: palm reading–something he’d learned from his abuela in Cuba.

With great interest, I watched him read a few palms. It was very entertaining and he frequently assured us that it was just a fun party trick and to not take it seriously. My wife went first. The only thing I remember is that her palm indicated that she would have a couple of other husbands on down the road. It’s been 27 years, and so far it’s just been me. Then it was my turn.

The party was starting to get boisterous. We were enjoying cocktails and munchies and had split into groups: the living room group, the kitchen group, and the palm reading group in the den. The lights were low and we were laughing and enjoying each other’s forecasts. My wife left her seat on the ottoman next to the chair Carlos was working from. He was a big man–tall, full-bodied–with a very neatly trimmed beard and a snappy haircut. He was a good speaker–quick-witted, engaging, smart.

He offered my hand and he put it in the palm of his own hand. The only light in the room was the lamp next to his chair. He turned my hand to the light and began tracing the lines of my palm–occasionally making sounds like “hmmm.” Every reading I’d watched was about relationships, children, and careers, but not mine.

He said, “Wow, David. This is really interesting. I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”

If my wife didn’t say it, I’m sure she thought it, “Heeeeeerrrrre we go. There is nothing ordinary about this man.”

He pointed to a longish line and said, “See this line? This is your fame line. David, in all the times I’ve been doing this yours is the longest fame line I’ve ever seen.”

I said, “Wow, really? You think I’m gonna be famous?”

He examined it a little closer and said, “Nope, but you’re going to be almost be famous.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t tell you, but I think that you’re gonna get very close several times.”

Jesus. Almost famous. That seems worse than not ever getting close to famous! I’m almost going to be famous?!

I think that on some level, that sparked a desire in me; a desire to conquer Fate. Doomed to be almost famous, and so far, my palm has not lied. In my musical and writing endeavors, I’ve been close to success—especially with writing. I believe that I am close to a hit blog, a hit book, or a hit musical. So close! Almost famous!!! ARRRRRRRGGGG!!!!

I can hear my wife saying, “Why does it matter? Just enjoy it. Why do you have to be famous?”

My answer is, “Well, I don’t have to be famous. I just want to be successful. I want my work to be acknowledged, read, enjoyed, and profitable.”

But to be totally honest? I wouldn’t turn down a little fame either.

E-Vatar Episode 3 – THIS IS E-BODY! E-VATAR – A Podcast Musical

Episode 3 – "This is E-Body!"  – In their E-Vatar, Taylen joins a new friend, Clarke, for a trip to the club exclusively for E-Vatars.In order of appearance:Narrator/Peyton – Sean RooneyTaylen – Thomas Farnan-WilliamsClarke – Sam BriggsMusic and Lyrics by Brian Eads and Gregg StandridgeBook by David Wilson-BurnsDirected by John Burns
  1. E-Vatar Episode 3 – THIS IS E-BODY!
  2. E-Vatar Episode 2 – A New World
  3. E-Vatar Episode 1 – Peyton, I'm Coming Home to You
  4. E-Vatar Season 1 Trailer


poisonI’m grateful for medicine.

Without meds to help me regulate my moods (bipolar), I’m quite certain my life would be a series of disasters. But as all people dependent on medicine know, there is often a trade-off. There are side effects and there are dangers. There is no one more compliant with psychiatric medicine than I am, and that comes with a cost.

In the fall of 2017, I needed a med change–a regular occurrence in the treatment of Bipolar Affective Disorder. My doctor increased one drug and added a new one–something brand new on the market. It’s a drug you’ve seen in commercials a dozen times and I was hopeful that it would level me out–and it did. But as a person who was already struggling with anxiety, it began to get out of control soon after starting it. I never connected the two. The doctor then put me on an anxiety medicine to help with that.

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beepMy twin brother and I shared a room from womb to thirteen-years-old. Those of you who have had a roommate know that you must develop and agree on certain rules to keep the peace. For example, we agreed that the last person to get in bed must turn off the light. Paul was notoriously and egregiously derelict in following this rule. There were several nights when, in our stubbornness, he and I would leave the light on until two or three in the morning because Paul refused to turn out the light under the terms of our agreement. Of course, I would eventually give in, huffing and fuming, and turn off the light.

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I’ve been blogging now for 8 years.  I admit it, I’m an addict.  I love to write and I love to share it.  I like to see my stats go up.  Like crack to me.  It doesn’t preoccupy a lot of my time because I’m a fast writer, but when I get going, I post at least once daily , at least until I get addicted to something else.  MyWifeSaysImComplicated is the latest of ten blogs.  TEN.  The reason I started this new one is that there are many things I want to write about that don’t fit into anyone of them.  How is the possible?

Here are a few of my other blogs:

Regular, Average Java Programmer


I started this blog because there seemed to be a gap in the java programming blog world.  There are so many excellent blogs for very advanced programming issues.  I use them to help me do my work, but sometimes I need something a little more basic; something for the average Joe corporate programmer.  So I started this to blog my experiences and solutions for the RAJP crowd.  I haven’t hardly published anything in years, but it is still my my popular blog by far. 50k visitors and 112k hits.  I’m sure that’s peanuts compared to most other tech blogs, but I’m proud of it.

I have an anonymous blog for bipolar stuff

It’s anonymous because I discuss personal details that I wouldn’t want the people I know about.


5143851946_e8cb2ae83f_nSeven years or so I discovered a writing form called flash fiction.  1000 words or less which tell an entire story.  I published under the tag #fridayflash.  There are
many that do this every Friday.  I haven’t done it for awhile, but I’ve written around 50 of them.  Some of them are good, and I’ve removed the really bad ones.  Look for some original illustrations as well.

The Smell Collector

This is a complete web serial.  It’s quirky and heart warming.  If you can’t read the banner, here’s what it says

“The experience of smell is the closest thing we have to intimate human contact.  A woman’s perfume, a whiff of cigarette smoke, a little bit of diesel fume, and some spearmint gum might come close to someone’s first kiss, for example.  Of course, it’s impossible to create a first kiss without the human element, but for Jim Bronson, it’s the best he can do.”


Fly By Night

5144073684_a1367e1297_nI wrote 50k words of a web novel and then got stuck.  I know how I want it to end, but I just can’t connect the dots…yet.  To me, it is some of my best writing and I know that one day I’ll pick up the trail again.

“Daniel is a 30-something computer programmer whose life has so far been a series of very fortunate events. His friends and family consider him to be lucky. To them, he just seems to sail through life. In fact, his nickname is “Lucky”. Well, Daniel’s luck is beginning to run out. His marriage is falling apart. His career is stalling. He can’t deal with his two children. He feels alone and depressed. Daniel is losing his way…that is, until he encounters a guide. This guide isn’t a therapist, a pastor, or a guru. In fact, Daniel’s not even sure if it is human. And soon, Daniel will be given a night job and a new direction.”

The Non-Aspiring Amateur

“I have a degree in music education.  I love to sing, play piano, teach, write, lead music in church, direct choirs, act, play the tuba, draw, and cook.   I direct choir and lead music in church professionally.  But all the other things I do just because I love it and if I tried to go pro with any of them I’d totally lose my mind.  It would be too much.  So instead, I content myself with being the best amateur I can be.”

Bay City Runaway

This web serial comes out of my obsession of San Francisco.  It’s about a lonely drunk living in San Fran who encounters a teenage runaway girl, and their unlikely friendship.



mountain profileI’ve been blogging for at least a decade.  I blog fiction, stories of my artistic endeavors, bipolar issues, and computer programming, but I’ve never written a regular old blog.  No theme.  No particular subject matter.  Just whatever I feel like writing.   I have a lot to say.  I have so much to say, in fact, that I often talk to myself on my commute.  I interview myself, I speculate, I work things out, I entertain myself.

I write tons of Facebook posts, many of which I never publish or if I do, I often delete them.  I just don’t want to overwhelm my friends with my always preaching my preach.

My wife says I’m complicated, and I tend to agree.  The bipolar brain is by nature complicated, but there’s more to it than that.  I’ve always been a heavy thinker.  Nothing I think, say, or do is simple, at least when you compare it to my wonderful wife.  Simple-minded isn’t an appropriate word for her, but things are just more simple for her. I suppose I should envy that, but I wouldn’t know what to do with that kind of brain.  It’s kind of like the idea that if you gave a out-of-shape guy a perfectly fit body, he would likely be out-of-shape again within a year or two.  That’s what I would do with a simple brain.  I would find a way to make things more complicated.

But the truth, as I know it, is that life IS complicated.  Take religion, for example.  Some might say that there’s nothing more to it than to love your neighbor and love your God.  And they might be right.  If you did those two things, then you’d have it.  But the truth is, loving God and loving people are not so simple to me.  And perhaps it’s not so simple in all actuality.  I suppose I won’t really know until I croak!