Anorexia and Overstimulation in The Name of Public Service

Posted on June 7, 2005 in Encounters The Orange

The first step I made toward breaking out of my temple of solitude came down hard. I attended an orientation for people who are interested in teaching adults to read at a local library. For two hours, I watched video tapes and power point presentations, some of which had flashing animations. One that I found particularly unpleasant showed a car bouncing up and down as it passed a loop of skyscrapers. When they asked us to evaluate the session (are they going to ask this for each and every minute?), I mentioned that the flashing animations overstimulated me.

If nothing else that will test their open-mindedness and knowledge of the disease.

I noticed that I bounced a lot in my seat. I haven’t been able to figure out if this means that the disease is acting up or I am just being tortured in yet another chair fashioned to fit bones shorter than my own. The woman sitting next to me could have stood being fed. I could have stuffed her arms in cardboard tubes. There’s a nervousness that I get around such petite people, a fear that if I move suddenly I might cause them to shatter or, worse, cry out in pain or fear.

Strangely, this woman and I did not look at each other. I can’t tell you the details of her face except I think she wore glasses. How strange to reduce an encounter to nothing more than a pair of wrists and hands appearing suddenly out of a pair of brown tubes.

I fled to the parking lot after the flashing and the strange young woman. My truck took me swiftly through the hills of Aliso Viejo, down into the valley split by the Interstate 5, and up El Toro to my home. I read the road like a continuous roll of newsprint, forced at me and at me. When I arrived home, Lynn had a turkey pot pie ready for me. I ate it while playing a computer game. When I looked at the clock, it was well after midnight.