I spent a lot of time in the sun today out on the tractor- about six hours (four 32 ounce Yetis of water and about six albums on spotify- not different yetis I’m not fucking rich I refilled the same one over and over again), and while I got a little sunburned even with several applications of sunscreen, it was still a great day. I just love being out there alone and with absolutely nothing on my mind but cutting the grass.
The other day I was chatting with Anne Laurie, and after she and I exchanged pleasantries she asked “You ever get around to treating that adhd” which is precisely how a conversation between two people with no filter and thick skin should start. Anne Laurie was quick to observe this in me as far back as the late aughts when we were at a meetup somewhere and I was still drinking. At any rate, the answer, of course, is no. I’ll get around to it or I won’t. I’ve made it this far.
In all seriousness, I don’t think I want to and at some level I am scared to. I know there would be some big benefits. I know it’s not normal to go downstairs to wash dishes, start washing them, see the trash if full, change the bag, say to yourself if I don’t do this now I won’t do it until it is a problem, start to take it out, see the compost bin, grab that, take the trash out, dump the compost, decide the compost bin needs to be hosed out, realize the hose is at the front of the house, go to disconnect it and decide to water the plants on the front because you don’t know when you will bring the hose back out front, then disconnect the house and go through the house to the back and hook up the hose, hose out the compost bin, decide that while the hose is out and running you should water the garden, do that, get sidetracked and prune the tomatoes with the hose running, finish watering, and realize you should probably unclog that corner gutter while the hose is out, go get the ladder from the shed, unclog the gutter, put the ladder away, turn the hose off, go back inside to finish the dishes, realize you are two dirty to clean dishes, go upstairs to shower, decide you should scrub the toilet before showering, scrub the toilet, get in the shower, get dressed, go back downstairs, finish the dishes, see your phone on the counter and holy fuck how is it five already you just went downstairs at two to do some dishes and now you have 8 missed calls and 13 missed texts.
Again. I know this is not normal. I’ve seen the look on Joelle’s face when she comes outside the Tempe house and sees the entire contents of the shed and carport in the driveway being hosed down when two hours ago I said I would be right back I was just going to take the recycling to the street.
And I know it is not normal to know you have to write something due in two weeks and to sit and think about it and write it all out in your head in between stressing about having not started on it yet and doing that to yourself until about 10 o’clock on a Sunday night and then sitting down and writing for three hours straight and being done. You can proof it in the morning.
So yes, I understand that treating it could have some great benefits to my executive function. But what will I lose for a gain I do not value? Will all the fascinating conversations in my head go away? Will I no longer be able to get in a car and just drive for hours with the music on blast and lots of things I have to pay attention to and threats to assess to occupy me as my mind gets to relax and go into a flow state and I can just think and daydream? Or like I do when I am on the tractor- the noise of the mower and the noise cancelling headphones with loud music and the need to really focus on the lines as I cut, and then I am just free to daydream and write blog posts in my head often times blogposts I won’t write for six months or a year?
It’s just a risk with very little in the way of upside for reward. I’ll stay like I am. If it were damaging relationships or my work, I would address it. Another point for Joelle- she gets me and is ok with it.
Another thing- I wish everyone could experience music the way I do. Maybe they do? I don’t know. But I just get the worlds best feeling from ASMR. Just these rolling waves of tingly warmth going down my spine and my arms and legs that I can only compare to the first time you do ecstasy (and not that molly crap). I don’t know why I do have these effects, and I don’t know if I was born this way or rewired my brain dropping acid and eating mushrooms from age 13-19, but I sure am grateful for it. It just feels so good.
And it’s not a particular genre of music- it’s something in specific songs- the squeak of the guitar chords and Miley Cyrus’s inhalation on You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go with Johnzo West, the harmonizing between Prince and Appolonia on Take Me With You, the “WOO HOO” and chorus on The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani, basically anything that Natalie Merchant sings, etc. There is no genre or type in which I do not experience it, and again, is just so great. This cool tingly blast down your body that feels like a big hug and all the hairs on your arms and legs and neck stand up.
Would I lose that if I treated adhd? Fuck that.
The other day I was tweeting over on Elon Musk’s hellsite that one of the things I really, really like about Tim Walz is he reminds me of the men I looked up to when I was a kid and the kind of guy I wanted to be. This was all back before talk radio and Fox News and angry facebook groups and incel youtube videos and then ultimate shock of a black President radicalized all these guys into become absolute fucking nutters.
I grew up around tons of them- blue collar guys who worked in the mine or at the mill or at the Koppers petrochemical plant or farmed or were mechanics. Veterans, almost all of them. The guys who coached little league and were cub scout leaders and taught you how to fish and were on the volunteer fire department. The guys who put plows on their tractors and plowed the side roads and Post Office and who volunteered to be the dunkee at the town picnic to raise money for the church and who go to the church spaghetti dinner even though the food sucks and they weren’t a member of the church anyway. Guys who had a chainsaw in the back of their farm use truck or the light truck beater they used to drive to the mill, so that when a storm knocked down trees they could listen on the scanner and go help clear debris. The guys who every time they cut their grass also cut the elderly neighbor’s and refused any money. Yeah they all had guns- they hunted or needed them for varmints on the farm. But they were not gun nuts.
I don’t think they were all racist scumbags at heart. I don’t want to believe it. It would suck too much.
Regardless, that is what Tim Walz reminds me of and why I like him so much. You just know he was the best platoon sergeant his platoon ever had. They still talk about him like my buddies talk about our 1SGT and later longest serving Sergeant Major of the Army Kenneth Preston.
That’s it for me. I got cantaloupe to eat and I am going to rewatch Deadpool tonight and Deadpool 2 tomorrow night and see if Breyana wants to go to the theater this weekend. Behave.
