Blame It On My ADD, Baby –”Sail”//AWOLNATION

Posted: September 21, 2011 in blue

After more than twenty-five years of intense clinical analysis, I have arrived at a careful diagnosis that my habitual behavior exhibits some symptoms of both Attention Deficit Disorder and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I’d like to discuss this, because I think we need to reign in all the negativity surrounding interesting psychological differences that each of us may have. “Disorder” just seems harsh. First, though, just because Freud would want it, I’m gonna justify my diagnosis.


I’m reading on my bed. My eyes drift away from the book to a small dustbunny of animal hair (that’s a funny word, dustbunny. Hang on, I gotta consult some OED…

Ok, after accessing the Oxford English Dictionary, then remembering I left my beer in the living room while in the process of moving my study materials there, then fetching the beer back to my room, and finally looking up dustbunny, which the OED tells me is actually dust bunny (which out of the hundred or so sub-entries of the word dust, only dust bunny, dust cover, and dust mite are not hyphenated [constant pattern recognition and fixation, there’s the OCD] as opposed to, say, dust-flow, a stream or landslide of volcanic ashes saturated with water), I find that dust bunny is mainly a North American term, and the OED’s aggregation of its uses dates it back to 1952, when the Newark (Ohio) Advocate and American Tribune published the sentence,

“He [a child] can be happy enough if there are occasional dust bunnies under the bed, but he will be miserable indeed if we neglect to safeguard his place in a free society.”

Oh, the fifties.)

So I see the dust bunny, put down my book to pick up the dust bunny, and then glance under my bed where a small forest of animal hair has grown rootless onto the wooden floor where my bedroom chi needs to flow freely (the Chinese chi, not the Greek letter, which is how the OED defines the word [disappointing] [never let me blog with the OED open]), I fetch my shop vacuum, which, by the way, is a great solution for vacuuming hardwood floors, and three hours later, after finding piece of dirt after piece of dirt everywhere in my household, the whole place smells like a dinosaur burped Lysol and my book has been comprehensively neglected.


Now, this may not be the best example of “disorders” producing productive results, but what the term actually means is a psychological condition that impedes healthy functioning. REALLY what it refers to is a way of thinking or seeing the world that impedes someone from being able to sit a desk 8 hours a day and do what they’re supposed to do, whether that may be doing good in school or chugging away at that 9-to-5. DISORDER has become such a powerful term that we tell 13 year olds to pop cocaine derivatives so that Mom and Dad can brag to little Jimmy’s mom about the 98% their son got on his history test.

Plato and Aristotle just walked around talking to people about things like beds and tables and ended up producing the basis for cosmological Western thought, but no one told them they had disorders. Next time you do something and that little Freud voice in your head criticizes it, just remember that 2nd grade self-esteem program the school’s counseling department made you do crafts about: I’m THUMBody! (Cuz your thumbprint is unique? Get it? Clever, I know.)

  1. aaron says:

    Psychologists don’t understand what’s really important in life like taking care of the hardwood floors.

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