ADD, patterns, focusing
Had a stress headache last night.
Went to work at 10 and was asked by my boss/friend if I'd smoked pot yesterday because her mother said I smelled like it. I had lit a patchouli incense yesterday and she thought it was pot.
So today I wake up in a fairly good mood and now I have no idea why I've plummeted.
ADD--Attention Deficit Disorder. I do believe I have it. I never really thought about it. I remember being eight, in class, and staring outside. I could never really remember what the teacher was talking about. I remember entertaining myself with my hands, my lips, writing every which way I could think of--forward, backward, upside down and that from left to right and back again, so you either flipped the page around, or looked at it in a mirror. I remember freaking my classmates out with that particular gift of mine. Of course, it didn't get me far in the academic arena.
My mother would tell me about a sunday dinner at somebody's house and I'd complete forget because there was something else more interesting when she was telling me, like how my corn on my plate looked was similar in colour to the butter melting on my potatoes, or how the weave of sinew in the meat looked like the little lines on my own skin. Or the pattern on the plates.
When I'd wait for the bus, my eyes would roam about. I'd spell out words in my head and in my head when I came to a vowel the 'voice' would go up, and then down for a consonant, so it was like music in my head. Or I'd count the number of letters in a word, forward and then backward and I realized that a word of seven letters, when counted forward and backward, added up to 13. All words with odd number of letters began odd numbered when counted like that.
My attention to such frivolous details kept me from about half of life, I'd say. And it still does.
I see patterns in colours and shapes and sizes and repetitions here and there. Sometimes I'll organize things--like my books go from tallest to shortest. But most times I'll just look around and then try and find the pattern in whatever I'm looking at. But it's mostly visual--what I'm looking at.
I remember when I was about six or seven and I had the mumps and was feverish and all that. I was lying in my bed in my room. My room had a border up by the ceiling and sometimes that border would move. Those patterns of slathered-on pastle colours would suddenly start moving, sliding around the room, within the confines of the edge of the border. I tried to tell my mom, "Mom, the wallpaper's moving!" Of course, she didn't believe me. The pattern in the pattern that I came to realize was that: when the wallpaper started moving, I'd pass out soon afterward. So when the pain in my neck and my eyes became too much, I'd stare at the border and will it to move, so I could sleep again.
Patterns.
My son takes Ritalin. He hates it. He says he feels dull and flat. I don't know if I want to take Ritalin and feel dull and flat. I mean, I already feel dull and flat already, what do I need something external for? My son takes Ritalin because he has ADHD. He is hyperactive; he needs to slow down so he can learn some things. I can learn things, I just need something to help me stay focused on things that require my attention, like the goddamn dishes. I don't think Ritalin is going to do that for me.
And that was a major tangent there, folks! Because I had initially wanted to talk about how flat I felt today because I had a shoddy evening last night.
Went to work at 10 and was asked by my boss/friend if I'd smoked pot yesterday because her mother said I smelled like it. I had lit a patchouli incense yesterday and she thought it was pot.
So today I wake up in a fairly good mood and now I have no idea why I've plummeted.
ADD--Attention Deficit Disorder. I do believe I have it. I never really thought about it. I remember being eight, in class, and staring outside. I could never really remember what the teacher was talking about. I remember entertaining myself with my hands, my lips, writing every which way I could think of--forward, backward, upside down and that from left to right and back again, so you either flipped the page around, or looked at it in a mirror. I remember freaking my classmates out with that particular gift of mine. Of course, it didn't get me far in the academic arena.
My mother would tell me about a sunday dinner at somebody's house and I'd complete forget because there was something else more interesting when she was telling me, like how my corn on my plate looked was similar in colour to the butter melting on my potatoes, or how the weave of sinew in the meat looked like the little lines on my own skin. Or the pattern on the plates.
When I'd wait for the bus, my eyes would roam about. I'd spell out words in my head and in my head when I came to a vowel the 'voice' would go up, and then down for a consonant, so it was like music in my head. Or I'd count the number of letters in a word, forward and then backward and I realized that a word of seven letters, when counted forward and backward, added up to 13. All words with odd number of letters began odd numbered when counted like that.
My attention to such frivolous details kept me from about half of life, I'd say. And it still does.
I see patterns in colours and shapes and sizes and repetitions here and there. Sometimes I'll organize things--like my books go from tallest to shortest. But most times I'll just look around and then try and find the pattern in whatever I'm looking at. But it's mostly visual--what I'm looking at.
I remember when I was about six or seven and I had the mumps and was feverish and all that. I was lying in my bed in my room. My room had a border up by the ceiling and sometimes that border would move. Those patterns of slathered-on pastle colours would suddenly start moving, sliding around the room, within the confines of the edge of the border. I tried to tell my mom, "Mom, the wallpaper's moving!" Of course, she didn't believe me. The pattern in the pattern that I came to realize was that: when the wallpaper started moving, I'd pass out soon afterward. So when the pain in my neck and my eyes became too much, I'd stare at the border and will it to move, so I could sleep again.
Patterns.
My son takes Ritalin. He hates it. He says he feels dull and flat. I don't know if I want to take Ritalin and feel dull and flat. I mean, I already feel dull and flat already, what do I need something external for? My son takes Ritalin because he has ADHD. He is hyperactive; he needs to slow down so he can learn some things. I can learn things, I just need something to help me stay focused on things that require my attention, like the goddamn dishes. I don't think Ritalin is going to do that for me.
And that was a major tangent there, folks! Because I had initially wanted to talk about how flat I felt today because I had a shoddy evening last night.