I didn’t actually find out I had ADHD until I was eighteen, spending my first year away from home at a little college in the mountains of Colorado. It was called, very subtly, Colorado Mountain College. I signed up for a class called Abnormal Psychology, simply because Abnormal is such an intriguing word. It turned out to be a regular psychology class with more science, which disappointed me terribly. But at the very end of the year, just as the snow was starting to turn into mud, we started studying learning disabilities. When I read the description and symptom list of ADHD, it was like finding a map to my brain. It explained everything.

I’ve always seen the world a little bit differently from most people. I constantly see the big picture, and I can hardly force myself to focus on the details. The view off of my deck includes mountains, a forest, and a sprawling city. I can’t focus on just the tallest mountain, or a certain tree in the forest, or a skyscraper in town. I see it all at once and I can’t separate it out.  That’s because ADHD isn’t really an attention deficiency – it’s attention surplus, with no control. People with ADHD focus on everything, all at once.

Unless they don’t.

This is where it gets confusing for me. There is a symptom involved with the disorder called hyperfocus, which is basically focusing on one thing – say a video game, or a tv show, or a series of books, or surfing the internet, or an idea – to a truly bizarre, obsessive level. It gets to the point where I can hardly think of anything but the subject of my hyperfocus. It can honestly be debilitating. I do it a lot.

It’s those two factors that have made ADHD such a fantastic thing for me. Because I can’t focus on it, the real world bores me. So I think harder. What’s in that forest that I can’t see? Easy – a bear. Only no one notices because he’s green, and he doesn’t make any noise. He’s the rare Silent Emerald Bear. He kills people, but only if they look right at him. Why? Because he only eats eyes, and how would he knew who had them unless he saw them? It’s about there that the hyperfocus kicks in, and suddenly I can do nothing but write about this bear. It’s exhilarating. I move out of the real world into a reality where bears are green and picky. I live there more fully and completely than I do in the real world. And then I move out, and then I’m on to the next one. It might be ghost pediatricians, or geriatric unicorns. And so on. Living inside fantasies is something I’ve done since I was a child, and now as an adult, I get to do it even more. Even better.

So, ADHD is fantastic, and more people should give it a go. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bear to write about…

The story is called “Cats and Quantum,” and it’s 1500 words long, give or take. It involves cats and quantum, and is, in my opinion, pretty amusing. My physicist friend said that my crazy little story was more scientifically correct than I knew when I wrote it, so that’s good, especially considering I know so little about physics. Oh, also, this is the first science fiction piece I’ve successfully written. Lots of firsts with this one. In all probability, it will also be my first rejection. And, believe it or not, I’m pretty damn excited about that. It means I’m out there in the trenches doing what writers do. And if it is accepted, I’ll be that much more excited.

So, now to enjoy the night Thanks to all the people who helped me make this happen!

Wait.

I had twice as much work than I’d had before. I had to re-write something on almost every page, add whole scenes, change dialogue, pull scenes out, and then edit it all back into a recognizable shape. Sigh. It would be worth it, though. I was ready to conquer the world, and I planned to do so as soon as spring break started.

That was my first mistake.

My second was trying to start on a plane. I’m not especially fond of planes; airports are generally fun and full of interesting people, but being crammed into such a tight, awkward seat, flanked by complete strangers, for hours on end is not my cup of tea. Additionally, I greatly dislike the idea of people reading over my shoulder as I write, and no matter what my row-mates were really doing, I couldn’t shake that feeling. Giving up, I thought I’d just work on it while I was staying with my aunt and uncle. I had a week, after all. That was also doomed; even a two-hour time change feels like major jet lag when you wake up at two thirty to catch the plane.  Besides, we were busy adventuring – no time for the real world. Whenever I’d open the document, I’d get intimidated by the wall of text in front of me and I’d go read instead. So no go on the spring break plan. Oh well, next week.

Only not. When I got back, I found myself overwhelmed by stuff I absolutely had to prioritize over the story. I fell into a sort of funk, not feeling at all myself. This is due to an accumulation of small troubles, and the fact that I’ll soon find out whether or not I can officially continue my education at CU Boulder isn’t helping. In short, I’m extremely stressed. As a remedy, I’ve decided to partake in a bit of escapist therapy, namely reading Lord of the Rings again and avoiding all other media. All of this has pushed everything back even more, and it’s starting to look like I won’t get to work on it for another week at least. I was hoping to have it ready for submission by tomorrow.

So, there’s that. I’ll get it worked out, I know, but at the moment, it’s like this gigantic Frankenstein’s Monkey on my back, screeching and pulling my hair, and it’s not helping my already frazzled state. Hopefully, this blog post will placate the monkey long enough for me to get my affairs in order so I can start taking care of it again.

P.S. I know I didn’t complete the Tarot Challenge thingy, but it was spring break. It could not be helped. More writing will be posted soon.

The Hermit

Also known as:

On which this iconic image is based:

Which is what I was listening to while I wrote this:

Over The Hills and Far Away

For a massive population center, a place where people go to live among other people, this city is a lonely place. They all are, so far as I can tell. Even when they’re walking among one another, or packed into subway cars like human sardines, they don’t really see one another. It’s like they’re all made of saran wrap or something. They’re see-through. And if they’re mostly transparent, I’m completely invisible.

Eyes don’t linger on the man with the wild gray beard sitting on the park bench or in the subway, wrapped in blankets insulated with yesterday’s news. People don’t care to see past the surface, or think too much about the staff on which I lean. It is a useful concept. Only those who are invisible are really free. They don’t pay me any mind when I’m rooting through a trash can or riding the red line back and forth for hours, stave at my elbow and a glowing lamp on my knee. Because I am not seen, I can search the city in peace, waiting outside buildings for days and wandering the  streets at all hours in all weather. No one asks me what I am looking for, and I don’t have to admit that I don’t really know.

I’ve got a feeling that what I’m looking for isn’t here. I didn’t really expect it to be. It wasn’t in the last two cities, either. So soon I’ll be sticking out my thumb, catching a ride, and I’ll start the hunt all over again, and search for the reason I’m still searching. It’s time to ramble on.

*

I used the symbolism from the card as well as the basic theme behind a ton of Zeppelin songs as fuel for this one. Turns out there’s a reason Zep chose the Hermit as the symbol for that cover – They deal with a lot of the same stuff. The connection was so evident that I had to weave them together somehow. Maybe I’ll continue this at some point – I like the connection.

Farewell until tomorrow!

A member of my sister’s awesome Twitter writing crew proposed this group creativity experiment, and I thought I’d give it a go. Here’s how it goes: John Remy of mind on fire (http://ow.ly/1njVQ) will pick a tarot card at random every day for one week, and every day participants have to use the card as a spark for something creative, be it fiction or poetry or a drawing or a dance. I’ll probably stick to the fiction side of things, but poems are also a possibility.

Today’s card is:

Knight of Swords

Which inspired:

Knight of Sporks

The brave warrior, clad in a uniform of white and red, pursued his foe through the crowded court. The man, portly in size and wicked in deed, had done him a great dishonor. The exchange of goods and the payment of debts was the law by which the court abided, and the blackguard had violated that law. In a transaction between the two, the paunchy pillager had not given him the money he was owed. A lesser man would have accepted this fate, but it was a matter of honor for him to collect all that he was owed. So he pursued the man to the furthest edge of the court, finally laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Sir,” he proclaimed, summoning all his courage, “the burger was $2.15, and you only gave me a dollar ninety.”

“Fuck off, kid,” the robber said. “It’s just a burger.”

A Very Silly Little Poem
by Kate Galey

Ravens don’t read literature,
I’m relatively sure.
When you see one out your window
and quoth thee ‘nevermore,’
they don’t get the reference
to Edgar’s poor Lenore.

How odd it must be for them,
the same response each day
when all they want is a quick worm lunch
before they go along their way.
“What is this ‘nevermore’ thing
that people always say?”

“Is it because we’re black?” they must ask
the other ravens in the tree.
“They never say ‘nevermore’
to any birds but we.
Why must they say that very word
to every raven that they see?”

So, good folk, next time you spot
a big black bird, for me,
don’t quote ‘The Raven’ to the raven;
Instead just let it be.
Only then can we put and end
to this birdie bigotry.