I woke up this morning with the sudden urge to learn how to play the bongo drums.
I woke up this morning with the sudden urge to learn how to play the bongo drums.
After work, I had to stop at the pediatrician’s to pick up my son’s prescription for ADHD, then I ran it over to Walgreen’s. All that extra running around and gas is thanks to the U.S. government and their pain-in-the-ass laws about ADHD meds, which they classify as a controlled substance.
By this time, my own ADHD meds had worn off, which means unlike what amphetamines would do to normal people when they wear off — and that is crash and zonk out — when ADHD meds wear off all that pent-up and suppressed hyperactivity comes out full force like a rocket. In other words, I’m like Taz.
I dropped the prescription off and they said it be 15 minutes to fill. In reality, it turned out to be almost half an hour. I wandered around, looking at merchandise, picking things up, playing with them, turning on Halloween decorations and a few early Christmas decorations.
Finally, they paged me. I went up and that’s when the fun started. I had to hand over my driver’s license to prove who I was. My distractability was at an all time high. I’m looking everywhere except at the pharmacist. I think I was looking at a advertising display for something, it probably had interesting colors, or I was reading the text, whatever. He was trying to hand back my license and I didn’t notice until he finally waved it in my face.
Then he started ringing everything up and I got to play with the debit card reader thingie, whatever they’re called, and I had to put in my pin several times because I kept making errors. When I finished, I started drifting again, and didn’t notice the process was complete or that it was beeping for me to remove my card. He again had to tell me to do that.
And all this time, I never made eye contact, I’d just sort of pass over him as I talked as if I couldn’t focus on him.
I left embarrassed and worried he thought my erratic behavior came from abusing my own son’s ADHD meds, maybe even alerting authorities, when the reality was, I was off my own meds.
Nevertheless, I was very proud of myself. Why?
They had a display of toy cars and it was the first time I’ve ever saw a Fiat 500, however, I exercised a fantabulous amount of self-control and did not buy the car even though it was only $5.99 and even though I walked around the store with it in my hand until they called my name.
And that’s the truth.
Another week gone
Where do they go? I don’t know
To join dryer socks?
If you’re anything like me (and if you are, I apologize), you tend to hate certain exercises and quickly get bored with others.
Running, I’m good to go, even if I sometimes take more days off between runs than I should; I still look forward to my runs and enjoy them (well, except for those first several minutes where you question your own sanity and wonder why you torture yourself so until the endorphins hit, the sun comes out, and the birds sing).
But other exercises I’ve always hated.
Stretching has always been my ultimate nemesis. I could neven touch my toes in grade school (and still can’t). So any stretching regimen I start ends quickly in pain and frustration. I don’t need such negativity in my life. I get it, I’m a failure at flexibility.
Push-ups are another. Loathe them. I don’t know what it is about them, but I really have to force myself to do them. Bench presses, on the other hand, I don’t mind and in fact, when I can feel the burn in my chest, shoulders, and triceps, I become motivated to do extra reps. But push-ups, I just collapse on the floor and give up.
Sit-ups and crunches I hate as well, and not because they sometimes hurt my back. I always need something to hook my feet under or I just sort of thrash away like a turtle on its back. In high school gym it was very embarrassing.
And that must be the reason for my dislike of certain exercises, there is some sort of psychological association with high school gym where all the other boys were towering over me, muscles rippling (think The Crusher from Bugs Bunny), and they could pound out dozens of push-ups, sit-ups, as well as the dreaded chin-up, and throw in an iron cross for good measure, while I’d struggle with my skinny spaghetti limbs trembling and flailing around, never accomplishing anything.
Now that I think about it, high school gym class was exactly like that for me.
Anyway, I meant to talk about how I start doing some exercises, but then quickly forget to do them, but I got off on a tangent on why I skipped gym all the time.
I was noticing a pain or weakness in my hamstrings and buttock the last few weeks when I step up onto something, like curbs or stairs.
Running was causing a strength imbalance and the stretches I attempted weren’t helping.
I realized I had gotten away from doing hamstring curls on my Weider Crossbow and doing rows on my CardioFit. I call them rows, but the machine is like the Tony Little Healthrider (see below).
These machines were all the rage back in the 80s, so I picked mine up at Sears after our stairstepper died (and Sears wouldn’t do anything so I wrote the CEO, then got a whiny letter from the store manager. “Why didn’t you contact me first?” Because I wanted you to squirm). The Healthrider seems more aerobic, with little resistance. My CardioFit has an adjustable piston to increase the resistence, making it more anerobic, although I’ve rarely dialed it past 2 (it goes up to a muscle- and joint-punishing 9).
Sorry, I did it again. The point is, after a week of this cross-training, my hamstrings feel much better.
And I apologize for taking forever to make that point.
I’d say I’m about 80 to 85% done with my first round of edits for my urban fantasy fairy tale.
This is the first time I’ve read it through. Strangely, I’m still very excited about it. That must mean it’s horrible.
Right now I’m editing for flow and continuity. I see where I called one character Bill, when his name is Benton. That’s what happens when you grab scenes from a trunk novel and don’t do a thorough read to catch things like that.
I’m back to a concern I mentioned several weeks or months ago about the relationship between two of the characters. They’ve known each other for less than a week and they’ve already fallen in love. Yes, I know such things happen in real life, if infrequently. And yes, I’ve read some urban fantasy romances and it seems the characters are jumping in the sack almost immediately. And therefore, I shouldn’t be that worried, but I am.
I’ve never written anything romantic before. I’ve never been concerned with the love lives of my characters. But beyond this being my first attempt at romance, its also my first attempt at writing a sex scene. To be honest, I haven’t even read very many sex scenes.
And this one has two so far. Scenes that, lacking any literary experience in the matter, I don’t know if they come off as hokie, or cliched, or downright boring.
I wonder if I should pass it to some beta readers to get outside reactions?
Despite only running on Monday, although I did do some weight training, and eating more than my fair share of my wife’s Dairy Queen ice cream birthday cake, my weight is down below 200 pounds at 199.7. Woot!
For you couples out there, when you go somewhere together, who drives? The man or the woman?
I grew up in a time when men were the drivers and women were passengers.
Lately, I’ve been noticing more women driving with men as passengers and it still looks out of place to me.
Not for any sexist reasons; I certainly don’t believe gender innately makes someone a better or worse driver. Nor do I believe men are somehow ordained to rule over or control women.
In my case, I drive because for one thing, I get carsick as a passenger. For another, I drive my wife crazy because I don’t know what to do with myself as a passenger. I can’t read or play on my phone because of the motion sickness. So, I fidget, tap my feet, or drum my fingers, play with all the dials and switches, and constantly change the radio station. Being a passenger magnifies my ADHD.
So, very early in our relationship, my wife realized it was better for everyone all around if she let me drive.
Then she could read and play on her phone and ignore the fact that I wait until the very last second before applying the brakes.
Since I spent most of this blog going off on attention deficit fueled tangents, I’ll spare you any political rants for the week.
TheRump is still an orange turd though. Never forget. Never normalize his hatred, bigotry, or incivility. Resist.
Enjoy your weekend. Here’s a song to send you off with:
The Greeks named today
Let me get the Public Service Warnings out of the way:
Be aware there are unscrupulous people selling “protective” solar eclipse eyeware that doesn’t protect you from shit. Amazon has been policing the sutuation, but many have already been sold.
That said, I’m really ticked at my ADHD procrastination. I saw solar eclipse glasses for sale at American Science and Surplus back in March when we were buying fun items for our kids’ Easter baskets.
I regret not buying them then because now they’re impossible to find. But then, if I had bought them, I wouldn’t remember where I put them these five months later.
Yesterday, I saw a sheet solar eclipse film for $27 that you could cut to your specifications. I figured I could cut them up so we could wear them on our faces, as well as buy an SLR 58mm empty filter to glue the film to and screw over the SLR camera’s lens.
But when I hit Add to Cart, I kept getting errors. Later, when I finally seaeched again, the price had jumped to $67! I hate the law of supply and demand.
So, I guess we have to go to the old school, tried and true method of putting a pinhole in a cereal box and watching the eclipse’s reflection through that.
Or, I could just go on FB and view the millions of FB Go Live events everyone will be posting.
Well, there’s another total solar eclipse expected on September 14, 2099. Maybe I should buy them Tuesday and out them away.
You remember the old Volkswagen ads, right? Fahrvergnügen! Which means, “driving pleasure.”
Tomorrow, we (specifically my wife) get to once again enjoy Fahrvergnügen!
We will be picking up our new 2017 VW Jetta SE. I don’t expect much sleeping tonight as we wait in restless anticipation like it’s the night before Christmas.
Our first car as a couple was a Jetta. Great car that we drove into the ground because neither of us are mechanics.
Weird thing was, it had no lap belts. It did have a shoulder belt. The salesman at Ernie Von Schledorn (“Who do you know want’s a car?”) told us that a lap belt was unnecessary because the dash was heavily padded to protect our knees in a crash.
And we believed the asshole.
Anyway, it was still a great car and we were fortunate never to have tested the padded dash.
But we wondered as we test drove and finally decided to welcome this new Jetta into our family, why it took almost 25 years to look at another VW?
My son and I were thinking of naming the Jetta, Jarvis, because that’s a good German name. My wife is leaning toward Jean-Luc, because … Piccard. And really, Star Trek and Patrick Stewart trump a Marvel AI anyday. Sorry, didn’t mean to trigger anyone by saying trump. Dang. Did it again.
And no, I’m not unhappy with my Fiat 500 already. In fact, here’s a
My Fiat 500 is still the most fun car to drive I’ve ever owned or even test drove. I have no idea where all the bad reviews come from. I haven’t experienced any issues at all and still find it an extremely enjoyable ride. In fact, no one shoukd be allowed to enjoy driving this much.
I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Well, maybe for a 500 Abarth, that little scorpion badge is pretty cool. Or maybe a 124 Spider. But that’s several years away.
I am thinking of adding a throaty performamce exhaust at some point though. I think Gina would sound good with a growl.
Yeah. Sorry. I forgot to weigh myself again. Don’t worry. Wednesday I see my doctor for a regularly scheduled annual checkup and I’m sure his scale will tell me I’m still a fat slug. It always does. No matter what my home scale says, I can always count on his scale to add several pounds. That scale hates me.
Update on Zagg
Last week i ranted about Zagg making hard screen protectors for the Samsung Galaxy S8 that are for shit. They only have glue along the two curved sides, which causes several problems.
One is they create an airgap between the screen and protector which inhibits touch sensitivity, forcing the user to press harder.
The second is they just fall off because there isn’t enough adhesive holding the protector to the glass.
My wife’s just fell off. My son’s didn’t fall off when he dropped it but the Invisible Shield itself cracked.
I invoked their warranty, which is a free replacement whenever you damage it. They send you a replacement screen protector and a prepaid envelope in which to send the damaged shield back. I suppose that prevents people from submitting endless claims, getting a free reolacement, and selling them to others.
The other day I received an email from Zagg. “We received your damaged shield. Thank you. And we charged your credit card on file for $10.99 for shipping and handling.”
That isn’t free! I call that being charged. Bastards.
Fuck them. Fuck all of them. Fuck the Nazis. Fuck the neo-Nazis. Fuck Nazi sympathizers. Fuck Nazi apologists. Fuck the KKK. Fuck white nationalists. Fuck white supremacists. Fuck fascists. Fuck racists. Fuck misogynists. Fuck bigots. Fuck homophobes. Fuck Islamiphobes. Fuck anti-semites. Fuck TheRump. Fuck Bannon. Fuck all the fascists in the GOP. Fuck anyone who rationalizes hate, prejudice, or who blames “both sides.”
Because there is no middle ground here. Both sides aren’t to blame nor are the radicals on the right and left cut from the same mold. The responsibility lies solely with the alt-right. They don’t plan “peaceful” protests or rallies. They come armed to intimidate and provoke fear. They come to spread their loathsome message of hate in an attempt to win over new converts who get a hard-on for these primitive chest-pounding threat displays. These are nothing more than recruitment rallies and the more media attention they get, the more successful they are. That’s how bullies work.
And the only way to stop a bully is by standing up to them, refusing to back down, refusing to be intimidated. And by answering with force if need be.
If anyone tries to spread the blame to both sides, if they try to make claims that the alt-left is just as guilty as the alt-right, explain to them there is no alt-left.
There is no alternative to denoucing hate, prejudice, and racist beliefs. In the end it comes down to this: you either support hateful, fascist slime or you stand with the rest of the human race. There is no middle ground.
An Alt-Right Haiku
Hate, prejudice, racism
We stand against you.
And how about some classic Anti-Nazi songs?
One characteristic people suffering with ADHD have is impulsivity. We are impulsive! We do things first, then think about it. We don’t consider the consequences of our actions beforehand. In other words, we leap before we look.
Long before the phrase, “Dude, hold my beer” came into the vernacular, those of us with ADHD said, “Watch this.” We don’t need alcohol to deaden our self-preservation center. We were born this way.
My childhood was rife with examples of impulsivity, of “Watch this.”
Friend: Bet you can’t jump off the garage roof.
Me: Watch this. *screams*
Friend: Dude! I’ve never seen anyone do a lawn belly flop before.
Friend: Bet you can’t climb to the top of that tree.
Me: Watch this. *screams*
Friend: Dude! Good thing that big branch stopped you.
Friend: Look at this minibike I made. Wanna try it?
Me: Watch this. *screams*
Friend: Dude! I forgot to mention it has a high center of gravity and you can’t turn at high speeds.
Friend: Go kick that cat off of our baseball field.
Me: Watch this. *screams*
Friend: Dude! I’ve never seen a cat that mad, clinging to a person’s leg before. That’s a lot of blood.
Friend: Our dogs are fighting! We’ve got to stop them. Go grab yours.
Me: Watch this. *screams*
Friend: Dude! That’s a pretty deep hole in your wrist.
Anyway, I could go on.
But you get the point, impulsivity sucks.
It is also expensive. I become suddenly interested in something, a hobby, or what have you. I read everything there is about it. Join tons of forums so I can talk about my interest with others. And I spend money.
Then I lose interest. And again, impulsivity kicks in and I purge my life of that interest because, of course, “I’ll never be interested in this again.”
My most famous and regretable “I’ll never” was when I threw out all my Silver and Bronze Age comic books when we were moving. I had Captain America #100 through 150. I had Conan the Barbarian #1 through 35. And others. All in the trash. “I’m in my 40s. I don’t need these. I’m not interested in comics any more.”
Yeah. You guessed it. Over the last decade or so I’ve been buying them back on eBay.
A more recent example, but not nearly as costly, was an interest in drawing. I went out and bought some drawing books and several types of drawing pencils. I worked for several months learning how to draw. I could draw a realistic human eye like nobody’s business. I’d like to show some samples, but I purged all my drawings from that period. (Somewhere I have a blog post featuring drawings from high school, if you care to look. Found it.)
Then I lost interest (or found a shiney new interest). After a few years of not drawing, I finally got rid of the books several months ago. I mean, it had been years, right? “I’ll never want to learn how to draw again.”
Yeah… Who’d have guessed? I mean, really? I went searching my bookshelves for the drawing books, then realized, oh, yeah. I got rid of them.
Today, I wisely went to the library to check out a couple beginner books on drawing. At least I’m not spending money.
Yes, impulsivity is the reason I’m a jack of all trades, master of none. I learn as much as I can, as quickly as I can, about an interest, but I lose in it before I can master it.
By the way, if you play guitar, I’m thinking of selling my 2008 Gretsch Duo Jet in silver flake. I mean, I haven’t touched it in two years, right? “I’ll never play guitar again.”
Future Me: *screams*
In our previous episode of “Adventures in ADHD,” I mentioned how important routine is to a sufferer of Attention Deficit.
Today, I bring another good example from personal experience.
Routinely, when I get home, I put my phone by my computer to charge overnight.
Routinely, when I get out of my work clothes and into that evening’s comfy clothes, I put my wallet on my dresser.
Routinely, in the morning when I dress, I put my wallet in my pocket, go downstairs and put the phone in my pocket.
Yesterday, for some reason, When I changes out of my work clothes, my phone was still in my pocket and I set it on my dresser, as well as my wallet.
This morning I got dressed, saw my phone and put it in my pocket. Do you see the problem? The action of taking the phone and putting it on my pocket was an unanticipated step in my routine that took the place of a normal step.
I continued to get ready, and left for work. I parked my car, got out, and felt something wasn’t quite right.
I reached into my pocket and…
This meant, not only could I not buy anything, my morning coffee because our Keurig is down, but I also can’t get into work or use the elevator because my keypass is in my wallet!
Its going to be a great day. Thank god its Friday.
To some people, routine means stuck in a rut, but to someone with ADHD, routine is one of the few orderly things in a chaotic world.
For instance, every morning I would make myself a mug of coffee with breakfast. I’d hardly drink it and as I got ready to leave for work, part of my routine for the last several years was to pour that mug into my travel cup then take my Adderall before screwing on the lid and leaving for work.
The last two mornings, however, I changed things up. I thought, why do I dirty a mug when I could just brew the coffee into my travel mug, cutting out all those extra steps?
So that’s what I did yesterday and today. And guess what I forgot to do as a consequence?
That’s right. I forgot to take my Adderall.
You may call it living in a rut, or doing things by rote, or even being unimaginative and boring, but the fact remains, for many of us suffering with ADHD, routine is our lifeline keeping us from being swept away in a river of chaos.