Random Crazy Thoughts
Sitting at the lunch table, my black baseball cap blocking most of the fluorescent light, I chewed on a well-cooked hamburger (sans bread) contemplating the other people crammed around the small break-room table. There were 4 chomping into hotdogs, dining on mac and cheese, diving into full-fledged Dagwood-burgers and complaining that the baked beans had been drowned in brown sugar. I wouldn’t know. For me, eating baked beans would be tantamount to attempted suicide by gas.
My mind isn’t quite right, as any in that room can well attest. It drifts into places no rational brain would dare to tread. Take, for example, my advice to a blogger with a diagnosed mental illness. What would the DSM IV look like if it were written by a person with schizophrenia or borderline personality disorder, or bi-polar disorder or…well… pick one? Would “Normal” be called Bland Personality Disorder? Or how about calling it Monotonous Affective Disorder?
I eagerly posited this to the 4 people the table, so Fran says, “I see your next blog forming.” I think Fran is psychic. Or not (according to which answer would result in a 72 hour stint inside a rubber room).
What would be some of the symptoms of Bland Personality Disorder?
- Unable to take risks.
- Hears no voices.
- Becomes fixated on one goal, such as budgeting for a vacation and saving for a new home.
- Cannot think creatively, as shown by the fact s/he has had the same job for 20 years.
There could be a secondary diagnosis. What about women who love having their nails done while boring the beautician to death—would they have Monotonous Affective Disorder with a secondary diagnosis of Manicuriac obsessive disorder? What about people who are so interminably nice you want to strangle them. Would they be Nice-issists?
Hey, doctors are people who can make mistakes. How many people with hypothyroid were diagnosed with Depression? Could these doctors be called Misdiagno-sadists?
If you were a woman living in Saudi Arabia who believed in free love, you’d be put to death. In the US, that’s called murder and we think people who enslave women are crazy. Well…at least we understand that only sane people think that way. My BAID. The point is that one culture’s crazy can be another culture’s sane. It’s fun to think about what people we call crazy would call people who think they’re normal.
I like this one. Lots of food for thought and, believe it or not, I actually think about these things without prompting. (But please don’t tell anyone because I don’t want to be diagnosed with Nonpromptoitis.)
No. You’ve already been diagnosed with Equinitis.
I’ve watched lots of people do this just down the road a piece. I would do it if I ever had a chance.
It was a lot of fun. I had to take my glasses off, so I didn’t get to see much. But I enjoyed the sensation of the wind in my face and the sound of my name spoken with a velvet soft French accent.
Would you mind if I posted this on facebook? It is SOOOO funny. I know my friends would very much enjoy it.
Please feel free to post it, and to pass the blog along to anyone who might be interested. I’m glad you enjoyed the blog entry. If you enjoyed that entry, you and others might be interested in the 4-part “Writing when you ain’t quite right.”
Each entry is only about a page long and tells you why I’m not exactly considered to be “all there.” My parents knew I wasn’t quite right at an early age. 🙂
That picture–with caption intact–should be hanging at a gallery! 😀 Oh, yeah- and with the photographer’s name, too. 🙂
I took that picture with a disposable click and shoot camera. It was one of those moments where I was in the right place at the right time at just the right distance away. In other words, I got lucky.