Post Toasted

 

A funny thing happened on the way to the lighthearted, carefree post I'd intended for Monday. I had planned to share the fact that I've really been enjoying creating songs with the help of artificial intelligence. Many of them are funny, others are traditional songs, and a few are serious and soul-baring.

I'm fully aware of, and have some sympathy for, the people who are having conniption fits about AI music, pointing out that in the Terminator movie series, Skynet's first attack on humanity was the creation of the brain-devouring song "Baby Shark - doo doo doot doo doota doo doo." It's a song that literally gets deep into your brain and then says "I'll be back."

But personally I feel okay with using AI to assist me in music creation (Suno being my app of choice). I claim this right because in my colorful past, I have been a professional audio producer, I have fronted two bands live on stage, I have written actual songs for decades, I was nominated for a Grammy (that's the award with the sweet little old toothless lady on a pedestal), I'm a paid member of BMI with a lot of registered works, and my songs have been performed live in concerts (by famous artists). All of which is my way of saying that I've paid my dues, so all you whippersnappers who want to bitch about it can just get off my virtual lawn!

So for Monday, I'd planned to share a funny rock anthem with you (and I still will, soon) but it seems I can't just post audio on the blog. So I'd have to post a link to a video of the song. Meaning I had to make a video (with time running out). I took a darn good stab at it, but a number of technical snafus were complicating the process, and then there was another snafu and... my brain exploded, with shards expelled so forcefully that there were reports of skull fragments plunking into Lake America and The Gulf of America. Not to mention in between those two, where there was...America.

The explosion was mostly, but not completely, metaphorical. Because thanks to my recent twin diagnoses of autism and ADHD I know that I was having an autistic meltdown. The mental system overheats, the gears lock up, and the sufferer can basically do nothing until, with the glacial passing of time, the brain has cooled enough to try jumpstarting again.

And yes, all of this is weird as hell for an almost 74-year old. Mind you, there's no question that the diagnoses are accurate, as the clues have always been screamingly obvious. And yet...nobody around me knew. Kathy didn't know. And I didn't know. 

So getting the official diagnosis seems like it should be no big deal, because it's simply labeling a cluster of traits that you've had since childhood. You can't catch this stuff - it's baked in at the factory. A factory that apparently has pretty liberal policies about employees using drugs on the job.

But the reality is that getting the diagnosis IS a big deal. A very big deal. Because those of us with ADHD overthink everything. It is, in fact, our only way of thinking and it's not in our power to stop it or slow it down without medical intervention or a big cartoon mallet. And so we review our entire lives through this odd new filter, understanding things which were never clear before. And getting into serious questions about our own identities. Did I make the choices in my life, or were those made by my brain gremlins?

It's all exhausting and, no doubt for you, pretty boring.  Oh, there is humor to be had in this odd new state of affairs and we'll be having it right here. But for now, I just wanted to explain how my short-term brain blowout derailed Monday's intended post.