Book of Joy

I ordered it before the election hell broke loose. The Book of Joy by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu. Comes in handy in these suddenly-dark days. Check out the back cover: they are dancing!

My day today was a surreal ending to an already-surreal stretch. I invited a friend, a very highly-functioning adult with ADD and dyslexia, to speak to my Individual Differences class. While I knew a bit about his daily struggles, I was blown away and humbled by his story. He has two computer science degrees and an MBA to boot, but none of it came easy. Eight alarms to keep him on track throughout the day; the alarm sound must change often as he gets used to it, and tunes it out. While at work, he takes Ritalin, in 4 hour doses. It helps with the focus, but makes him edgy. He only takes it during working hours, unless absolutely necessary otherwise. While coding, he has a metronome making a sound ever 2.5 minutes to keep him on task. the sound, again, must periodically change. Rings on his fingers? Not for love of jewelry, but to have something "legit" to fiddle with while in meetings. Daily mediation to calm the mind. And so on...  I had no idea; neither did my students. Probably the single most powerful class this semester.

I appreciated his dislike of Ritalin and caution with which he uses it. Students need to hear this. So many of them illicitly get Adderall to cram before tests without realizing what it does to their bodies and minds.

My pal A. is MIA. She is the one with depression/anxiety/OCD.
I hope she surfaces on Monday, or I am taking the matter to the Dean of Students, and will let them take over. I am vastly unqualified...

I was so frazzled by this whole friggin' week, I left my backpack in the classroom where I taught. Laptop (my whole life), student writing, everything. I have never done anything like that before. Once I realized it was gone (four hours later), I panicked. Started retracing my steps. Found it in a dark, empty classroom. Lucky me...

I am crashing. Take me away, my beautiful boys.