Bram's Blog

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm obsessed with comedy. I like when people laugh for a lot of reasons. Laughter can take a bad situation and make it okay. Laughter helps people feel connected and is one of those rare moments when you can see through the facade of adulthood that we're all told we have to adopt if we want to be a respectable member of society. People look sort of ridiculous when they laugh (exhibit A: the picture on the right. Those idiots just look foolish for daring to show their teeth and close their eyes. A tiger could easily devour them since they've got their guard down). But more importantly, I love thinking about comedy in a pseudo-philosophical way. Why do we laugh? Is comedy good for society? Why the hell are doggo memes so amazing (if you can manage to look at the picture on the left and not laugh I both applaud you and at the same time am deeply suspicious that you are sectrely a robot)? Only the deep questions. And one of the biggest quest

I'm one of the rare possessors of that greatest of nature's gifts: Bipolar Disorder. Even to say it's name evokes feelings of shame, as if it is some major defect of birth that destines me for the gutter. But in the time since being diagnosed I've found it to (non-ironically) be one of my favorite parts of who I am. But this post isn't just me trying to argue that what most people view as a huge obstacle to happiness is actually a huge asset (that shameless post will come later). Instead, I want to focus on one of the most interesting aspects of Bipolar: pyschosis. Bipolar is one of the few psychotic spectrum disorders, along with schizophrenia (which I'm given to believe is no longer even a thing and has now been split into several smaller classifications), and several others. But what does it mean to experience psychosis? When we think of psychosis we are flooded with depictions of mentally unstable people acting in scary, violent, and dangerous ways (than