They say the ocean's deepest terrain is the last uncharted space on planet earth, but that's a lie.
Rochelle Weber's debut Muse It Up Publishing release ROCK CRAZY takes us on a journey through the volatile and unpredictable realm of the human brain.
Disease suggests it is something like a flu bug that will burn itself out and return you to your body's version of "normal", but the brain is the central processing unit (CPU) of the human animal. It's synapses fire, sending messages from one brain cell to another. Chemicals are released into the mix, working in concert with the rest of this intricate organism to control the functions of the rest of the body, including rationality, emotions, and comprehension.
Bi-polar disease flips the switch and sends off wild currents to parts of the body not equipped for such chemicals, or overloads of nerve stimulator.
Rock Crazy is a very disturbing book because it takes you inside the nightmare...inside the unrest...inside the tunnel where you see, hear, and feel the inappropriateness of your actions, but cannot stop them. You become the fractured mind.
Medicinal cocktails have their own demonic hitchhikers that come along to further create a myriad of different polar opposite dysfinctionalities to add to the swirling emotional soup you battle every minute of every day
Those around you never know who they will be dealing with. At this moment sweet, the next a fiery termagant even when you're taking the cocktail religiously. As with most drugs, the body develops its own tolerance over time.
What do you do when the drugs have been exhausted...your loved ones are at the end of their tether, and the only thing left is brain surgery, implanting a chip into that still unknown world we barely comprehend?
This is a disturbing story, but well told. Once you've read this book, you will be one step closer to maybe holding back the initial gut reaction you might leap to the next time you see someone not quite acting the way YOU think normal should be, and you might feel a bit of compassion that there but for the grace of your DNA...
I give this book 4.0 stars.
You can find ROCK CRAZY at it's Muse It Up Bookstore BUY PAGE.
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|Rock Crazy |
A Novel by: Rochelle Weber
Genre: Sci-Fi Futuristic Romance
Release: October 14, 2011
Editor: Lea Schizas
Line editor: Penny Ehrenkranz
Cover artist: Delilah K. Stephans
Katie McGowan is bi-polar, and she’s run the gamut of medications, but nothing works anymore. Everyone says her she should have a microchip implanted in her brain that can regulate her mood swings. But Katie doesn’t want to be a robot. In a tough love move, her husband, Scott takes her to the Moon—and dumps her. Katie’s stuck on that God-forsaken “rock” and thinks she’s space sick. But she’s wrong; she’s pregnant. Now the surgery’s too dangerous and she has to go off her meds until the baby’s born.
Scott’s elated that he’s going to be a father and assumes Katie will take him back. He has no clue how badly he’s hurt her, how thoroughly he’s broken her trust—or that he may not get her back at all.
They were on Earth, at a bar near Champaign, Illinois, part of the Chicago metropolis, which had sprawled across the Midwest and even down to Cairo, Illinois, where it merged with the equally sprawling Greater Memphis Area. They were there to sing karaoke, and Katie McGowan was ‘sober,’ as usual. She was on too many medications to mess with alcohol.
She didn’t remember, later, what the woman said that triggered her. She didn’t remember deciding to react. She just remembered the hot, red rage. And the split. She watched herself do it as The Voice kicked in.
“You can’t do this,” it said. “This is inappropriate behavior.”
Katie tried to stop herself, but she couldn’t. Her arm rose, as if of its own accord, and poured the pop on the woman’s bleach-blonde, over-processed head. The woman came off the stool and shoved Katie. She flew across the room, seemingly in slow motion. Of course she threw her right arm out to break the fall, and she still hit her head on the floor. But the pain in her wrist was worse than the headache.
“I told you not to do it,” The Voice said. “Now, at least stay down. Don’t try to fight her. You’ve already lost.”
Katie lay there gasping for breath, smelling the old, stale, spilled booze and beer that had seeped into the floor. Someone helped her up. It was Scott, her husband, and she was wrapped in his arms while holding her wrist. The woman wanted to come after her again, but people restrained her.
The screaming started. Katie cowered in Scott’s arms screaming and screaming and screaming, while The Voice told her to stop acting this way, and people tried to restrain the angry woman, pop dripping from her soggy bangs.
“Get her out of here!” the manager demanded.
“Looks like her temper matches her red hair.” She heard someone comment.
Scott half-carried her outside. She was hysterical and still screaming. The other woman followed them out to the car.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy?”
Katie couldn’t answer. All she could do was scream. Just scream. No words, just that high-pitched wail that was a good octave above any note she ever managed to reach when she sang.
“Now why can’t you reach this pitch when you sing?” The Voice asked. “Stop it or you won’t be able to sing at all. Ever again.”
She threw herself across the hood of the sky-car, feeling its warmth. She kept screaming, and the pain flared in her wrist again. Her throat was sore, and her voice was going…gone. The screaming subsided, and she began sobbing, hoarsely. Darn it. Her physical voice really was gone! The Voice was merging into the background, but now her mother was there. Linda Snodgrass had been dead for over five years, but she still appeared and yelled at Katie.
“You stupid girl! I told you ladies don’t fight. What did you think you were doing?”
“I don’t know why I did it, Mama. I think I broke my wrist,” she mumbled.
“Serves you right.”
“I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry.”
“Quit whining, or I’ll give you something to be sorry for.”
Her mother faded away, and she started hearing what was going on around her again.
Scott was there, and the manager, and the woman who had shoved her, and several bystanders, but all she could do was cry and say, “I’m sorry,” over and over.
“Who’s she talking to?” the woman asked. “She really is crazy!”
“Katie’s bi-polar.” She heard Scott explain.
“Get her out of here!” the manager yelled.
“I’m so sorrrrrreeeeeee,” Katie wailed hoarsely. Someone stayed with her while Scott went back inside to get her sweater and his keys. She was powerless to stop this stage, as well. The sobbing and apologizing would go on for another hour or so. It was part of the pattern. She would apologize to everyone she met. And she would cry until she dehydrated herself and ran out of tears.
Scott came out of the bar and handed her sweater to her. She reached for it with her right hand and dropped it. He picked it up and put it across her shoulders. Then he unlocked the sky-car and helped her into it.
“Your wrist’s swelling up fast, baby. I brought you some ice from inside.” He handed her a bag of ice wrapped in a bar towel. “Your eyes look more red than green right now, and you’re so pale your freckles really stand out on your nose.”
“I’m sorry, Scott. I’m really sorry.”
He was oddly supportive this time. “I know you’re taking your meds. I’ve been giving them to you myself. And you still went off.”
“W-why?” Katie sobbed. “W-why? I’m s-sorry. I’m s-so s-sorrrrreeeee!”
“I don’t know. I don’t think the meds’re working,” he said. He reached over to pat her hand, but she was holding her right wrist, trying to cushion it and keep the bag of ice steady.