So Much More Than Tics
We finished the class with standing sprints to Bring Me to Life by Evanescence, a five-minute climb to 4 Non Blondes’ What’s Up, and cooled-down to The Jam’s That’s Entertainment. As the opening bars to Beck’s Loser filled the room, the spinners slowed their pedals to a stop, dropped their heels, and stretched their calf muscles. I turned the music down to a conversational level and said, “This is my favorite song lyric right now.”
Beck sang out: In the time of chimpanzees, I was a monkey.
“Wait, what did he say?”
“In the time of chimpanzees, I was a monkey. That’s how I feel every day of my life.” No one asked me what I meant. The night before, I posted the lyric on my Facebook page to honor the start of Tourette Syndrome Awareness Month. My theme this year—Tourette Syndrome: So much more than tics. It’s the tics that get all the attention. Those unwanted movements and vocalizations are displayed with either respect or ridicule all over social media—the people who jerk, the people who cuss, the people who whistle, blink and bark.
Yes, the tics are obviously an issue. I disturb the people within earshot with my grunting. I cause people to look away with my long, dramatic, face-scrunching blinks. I’m sure people wonder why I jerk and torque my body as I walk down the street. Scratch my arm until it bleeds. Blow air across my eyes. Lick my lips, wipe them off. Lick my lips, wipe them off. A thousand times a day. The tics are the visible symptom, but there’s so much more. It’s the rest that derails me.
I loaded my Facebook post with hashtags, the disorders that accompany Tourette: #OCD #ADHD #ASD #Anxiety #Insecurity, and the takeaway I want people to grasp: #NotAJoke #NotAPunchline #ItsABigFuckingDeal, and the reason for my post #TouretteAwareness. I considered using #Embarrassment, but it seemed pathetic. But if I’m honest, embarrassment is the biggest one. I’m embarrassed by my tics.
“What are you working on?” Susan peeked over from her side of the couch as I created an image of my Beck quote with my tagline ‘So much more than tics’ beneath it.
“A Facebook meme for Tourette Syndrome Awareness Month.” A five-minute debate over the proper meaning of ‘meme’ sprung up, and then she volunteered to take over using Canva, the graphic design tool she uses to market her business.
“PowerPoint is fine. Plus, I’m basically done.” A true statement, but I also knew if I let Susan take over, she would advocate against the Beck quote. I already know this approach is weird and oblique. I want people to have to think about it. I want them to arrive at their own understanding of the alienation I feel because of Tourette. I don’t want to hold their hands and lead them through the maze of my mind, even if they never get it. Which is good; I don’t think anybody got it.
My Facebook following is laughable. Of my one hundred or so friends, I suspect sixty or seventy have unfollowed me, bored with my bitchy anti-Trump sentiments, my weekly spin playlists, and my reshares of silly running memes (at least those are actual memes). Only eight people liked my post. Not much of an impact for Tourette Syndrome awareness. I have no idea how many people read it and didn’t like it, or simply didn’t understand. No one commented, no one asked for clarification.
I considered using my pulpit at the front of the spin room to discuss Tourette Awareness Month, and why the chimpanzee quote is significant to me, but it seemed inappropriate. I worried that the Y might get pissed at me for going off script. So, I’m telling you instead.
The fact that the song title is Loser isn’t lost on me. My disgust with Tourette Syndrome is well documented. I spend untold hours bemoaning my ‘loser’ status, feeling sorry for myself, feeling different from everyone else. This is an area I’m trying to improve, trying to transcend. I’ve made progress, but I’m a work in process.
Take a few minutes to listen to Loser. It’s a great and unique song, unlike anything else recorded (lyrics below).
LOSER
In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey
Butane in my veins and I’m out to cut the junkie
With the plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables
Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose
Kill the headlights and put it in neutral
Stock car flamin’ with a loser and the cruise control
Baby’s in Reno with the vitamin D
Got a couple of couches, sleep on the love-seat
Someone came in sayin’ I’m insane to complain
About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
Don’t believe everything that you breathe
You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
So shave your face with some mace in the dark
Savin’ all your food stamps and burnin’ down the trailer park
Yo, cut it
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Double-barrel buckshot)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
Forces of evil in a bozo nightmare
Ban all the music with a phony gas chamber
‘Cause one’s got a weasel and the other’s got a flag
One’s on the pole, shove the other in a bag
With the rerun shows and the cocaine nose-job
The daytime crap of the folksinger slob
He hung himself with a guitar string
A slab of turkey-neck and it’s hanging from a pigeon wing
You can’t write if you can’t relate
Trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate
And my time is a piece of wax falling on a termite
That’s choking on the splinters
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Get crazy with the cheeze whiz)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Drive-by body pierce)
Yo, bring it on down
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(I can’t believe you)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Sprechen Sie deutsch, baby?)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Know what I’m sayin’?)
