Misophonia and How Can You NOT Have it?

Misophonia.  Ever heard of it?  Yeah, me neither.  Until this weekend.  Not that I need another onia or obia and yet, I have had this since I was a kid.  Now, I admit, I could just be a hyper-sensitive ass who is highly judgmental.  But misophonia is not a judgment call issue, it's a fact issue. And that fact is YOU MAKE SO MUCH NOISE EATING.  

It's true.  Every smack, every slurp, every chomp I hear as hammer blows in my head.  Rationally, I know I make noises when I eat.  I know it is impossible to not make a sound while eating.  But all the noise noise noise NOISE.  

The condition started to be talked about by the people in the white coats in 2001.  That would explain why you've never heard of misophonia (Greek for "extreme dislike of sound").  It's just the type of thing I would feel idiotic telling anyone about, least of all any type of doctor.  But it's nice to know I'm not crazy alone.

From the time I was quite young, my oldest sister would bestow the loving words of "stop smacking your lips, Jane" and, my favorite "you choose the crunchiest cereal on purpose don't you?"  True, it was Cap'n Crunch.  Point taken.  

When I was somewhere in the 10-15 year old range I picked up on it.  With age comes wisdom, and I know that I am friends with many noisy eaters and drinkers.  I could name them, yet, that would be pointless.  And rude.  They don't know that I've heard every sound they've ever made.  And they don't need to.  Because misophonia, why, it sounds even more ludicrous as I write about it.  If you had known misophonia was a thing now, you'd have looked and discovered several books on the subject.

Sound-Rage. A Primer of the Neurobiology and Psychology of a Little Known Anger Disorder posits that misophonia is a neurological condition where triggers, such as gum chewing, will set off the urge to flee.  Or flee really, really angrily away.  For me, I flee in my mind.  Or I scream quite loudly.  In my mind.  

As I've already said, if the sound of someone eating makes you want to scream, why, that makes you a jerk, a lunatic, or a bit of both.  Now, the next time I have been "triggered" to "run screaming out of the room/start punching you in the face" I will simply say, "my misophonia is acting up" and leave it at that.  Whoever I say it to need not know what misophonia is, they just need to know my onia is hurting, so back off.  And while I'm at it, your epidermis is showing.  Do something about that, won't you?

The Art of Bonding

It dawned on me the other day that the people with whom I worked  for 15 years are in another place in my life now.  Friend-wise, I like to keep in touch with people.  I recall my AP English teacher saying to us, the seniors in her class, "Most people only have five good friends their whole life.  Chances are, the people you feel are your five right now, will not be five years from now."  She had a thing for fives apparently. She also said that E.T. was a Christ figure.  But we can discuss that another time.

Most of the class acted in denial, "as if!"  I didn't, because some of my friends from kindergarten were sitting with me in the class.  I still keep up with them.  But keeping up is different from constant contact isn't it?  

Because of social media platforms you can "keep up" with former classmates and co-workers, should you want to.  However, I meant a more active friendship when I started writing this.  If you work with someone, you see them every day.  You know about their families, you know when they're sick, you know what they smell like.
That type of knowledge implies a certain type of intimacy.  And it's that type of intimate give and take that the people with whom I spent 15 years is lost.

Now, is such a drift intentional?  I don't think so.  Am I broken up about it?  Not really.  It just hit me as a little bit sad.  And it hit me as a lot like school.  I wasn't buds with all 700 students in my high school class (class, not school, that was more like 4,000).  Same with the radio station.  I was closer to others, and that is the way of things.

Now, I realize that I will most likely never have that workplace comeraderie again.  As an independent contractor it's just me and my clients.  Going into each relationship I know it could be very short term, or long term.  Same thing with being on a set.  You  gravitate toward other crew members who seem to be someone you'd get along with.  Someone whose about page is not instantly there for you to check and see what they're into.  You have to find out all on your own.

And perhaps that's my point.  Once you discover the person behind the public facade everyone has to some extent or another, you form a different kind of bond.  You create a community.  Some bonds are stronger than others.  Some just come undone and drift away.  
No one knows when the goodbye will be permanent.  

Now am I going to say "be kind to each other"?  No.  will defer to  who says, "don't be a dick."  I think that if everyone, as a whole, realized, just a little more often, that this  contact (in person or online) could be final.  Today you could be saying your last words to someone, or be making your last post, or writing your last witty remark.  If that occurred to the the world's inhabitants more often then perhaps there  would be a little more effort to  do better, to be funnier,to be friendlier,  to succeed.  

And a million voices cried out in agony and said, "don't waste your money."

While I was in Atlanta this weekend, avoiding a HIRL with  ,  and I went with our collective brood of five girls to see an advance screening of Turbo.  The girls are aged 2 to 8.  They like it.  Under further questioning, my 8 year old said, "well, it wasn't actually funny, but good movies don't have to be funny." Damn her powers of reason.  Then she added, "but it was no Despicable Me or Mega-Mind."  

I was mildly amused at the attempt at a salt joke.  I heard Samuel L. Jackson speak of snakes and planes.  But that was just in my head.  If only.  

If I had but a fork I would've gouged out my eyes to prevent the 3D confetti flying into my line of vision.  Yet I would've still been able to hear the dialogue.  

I pretended Paul Giamatti was saying, "W NNNNN B C" and yet.  It.  Still Sucked.

Were the voice actors untalented?  No.  Was the animation shoddy.  No.  Was the story unacceptable?  No--don't give up on your dreams, your true friends and family believe in you and can surprise you, your heroes can be like other people too, and people go to car races to see wrecks.  It just wasn't entertaining.  At all.  To me. Or to Kelly.  So that makes it valid.  

If you are forced to take your offspring.  Fake an illness and pass the chore onto someone else.  Trust me.

  

Monsters University Movie Review

Took the kids, got the glasses, ate the popcorn.
 
Monsters, Inc. amused me.  I knew the voice talent, I liked the animation, plus, it was clever.  All those monsters in the closet and under your bed at night were real.  And they were scaring you because the screams of a child powered their world.  Like I said, clever.

Monsters University is a prequel.  Mike was never taken seriously as a monster as a kid, Sully was the BMOC and they become unlikely friends with a rag-tag group of misfits.  

I was expecting more of an Animal House reference but only got them disrupting the mellow guitar player on the grass.  I will just hope/pretend that was a Stephen Bishop homage.  

It's not Revenge of the Nerds, or Animal House, or anything remotely clever or truly funny.  But the voice talent is superb so you can't blame them.  And it looks great.  Sure, I find 3D annoying at best but this one, uh, not so much came hurling out at you.

So you have your misfits, against all odds, etc. etc. clearly cliche-ridden.  I wasn't going expecting a Christopher Nolan twist.  But I thought it would be funny.  Ier.  Funnier.  

Monsters University.  My kids are under the age of 10, they like it.  The soon to be 7-year-old found some of it scary, but just scary because it was a confrontation scene.  It's not riddled with adult references.  The story sends a good message (It's ok to be different.  Just be you.) And it has Helen Mirren.

At its conclusion did I wish I had those 110 minutes back?  Noooooo.  But it left me with no great laughs, no clever catch-phrases (it's so fluffy I could die!)

Monsters University is well worth the wait to see it in your home.  It most likely will not cause you to wish you could gouge out your eyes should you pay to see it in the theater.  Save it for the matinee....or just wait.  It's not going anywhere.  

#review #movie  

I Meant to do That

Have you ever waved back at someone who wasn't waving at you?  And then you responded by laying your forearm across your head to scratch your ear because you meant to do that?  Flop sweat stays with me for a solid 30 minutes when I pull that stunt.

Today was no different.  I got on the elevator with two men.  OK, I got on after a clever remark and then, because they were together, couldn't figure out if I should get on or off first, but I digress.  The taller one hit the buttons.  1 and LL.  They weren't sure at first.  What did I do?

Well, first I suppressed inappropriate laughter in the elevator because I kept hearing, "going down Mr. Tyler?" in my head.  I chose not to say that to two men with whom I was not well-acquainted and was also confined in a moving box.

I got off at LL.  I turned left.  They followed me.  Dammit!   Not my floor.  So I proceeded to walk out the door onto the roof of the parking garage.   Who puts a roof on the first floor?

What would you have done?  Turned around upon realizing your error and get back on the elevator?  No!  It was the Not You Wave on a much larger scale.  Two strangers could see me.  Plus all the hidden cameras I assume were watching.  I didn't see any.  That's why I said hidden.

There I am, on the roof, and immediately I pull out my phone. I meant to do that. Clearly I can't walk to my car, because it's under the roof.  My car knows I avoid direct sunlight at all costs.  I hear the men walk toward their cars as I pretend to check emails.  OK, I was actually checking actual emails.  But it gets better, because I totally commit to this roof charade.  I walk around the roof in the hopes that there was a way down without having to go back into the building.  Of course, no way out.

That's when I start with the impromptu photo session of the graffiti across the street and the tree pictures.  Satisfied, (faking satisfied, oh, I didn't fake it, I'm an actor remember?) I strode back into the building and got back on the elevator.  After I tried to leave via the stairs which only led to a different part of the first floor.  Stupid stupid stupid building design.

One LL later and I'm walking toward my own car.  I meant to do that.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Recently, +Jim Herrin wrote of things which scared him as a child. This was egged on by our 6 and 7 year old girls watching movies that were, questionable. He said that our oldest is more like him in that images bother her while the youngest is more like me and is far more creeped out by the real world.

What movies scared me as a child? Yes, the Wicked Witch of the West was bothersome, but the monkeys were far more creepy. Whenever someone says the phrase "when monkeys fly out of my butt" I picture those monkeys. The creepy child stealer in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was and is beyond disturbing. As was the clown lamp in the bedroom I shared with my sister. I know full well that clown lamped instigated devilry whilst I slept. Fortunately, sheets can protect you from most bedroom furnishings.

A friend told me the story of how his dad took him and his brother to see JAWS. I believe he was around 5 at the time. He's still not a fan of going into the ocean. Sure, it's funny now. But I would imagine that was more than disturbing seen through the eyes of a child. Oh, yeah, I watched it with Jenna when she was around 5, but there was fast-forwarding and then I thought, you know, funny and fake as it looks to me when Quint gets eaten, I don't know if letting her watch it would be an act of good parenting. So I turned it off. JAWS, to the adult mind, most likely haunts you because of what is not seen. Being caught by surprise, unless cake is involved, is never good.I

I remember there was talk that my nephew had seen Jurassic Park at too young an age. He has not developed a fear of dinosaurs or theme parks to my knowledge. But everyone is just wired differently.

It's true, I won't park anywhere near a panel van. I will also not drive behind trucks carrying logs. Deliverance stayed with me more than Poltergeist did. Because of it I have an irrational fear of banjoess--and pretty mouths, on a city boy. I was raised in the suburbs of Washington, DC. There was a point when I realized that if a bomb was launched at our country, and it was aimed at DC, ducking and covering would be to no avail. Instead I remember a McDonald's shooting in the mid '80's. Sitting in the back row was always within my comfort zone.

Sometime between only sitting in the back row at church (family of six, easier to control the children) and this incidenct, I developed a distinct need to always sit in the back and/or in the position where I could see who was coming in, and could make an exit strategy. Every classroom, every restaurant, all the time, that's what I'm thinking. Perhaps I just took it for granted that my world was a target so I always expect the worst case scenario. I really do have a blanket, a candle, and every type of emergency situation stuff in my car, and I always have. I walk to the car with my keys in my hand and one key pointing out. Always. If I see one more victim in a movie drop their keys or, heaven forbid, just begin to look for them in a dark alley, well, quite frankly, she's an idiot.

Movies that are a bit more real, I won't watch. Saving Private Ryan is, from the bits I've seen, is a superb movie. But it's too real. My dad was in that war. Lot's of people had dads in that war. I don't want to watch it. It's too well made. I prefer the beheading of Orcs to a really real movie. Sci/fi fantasy is my world. Shower me with musicals (Glitter aside)and I'll be happy.

My boyfriend in college cajoled me into watching Nightare on Elm Street. I remembered putting up quite the resistance. However, I acquiesed and watch it I did. You know, Nightmare on Elm Street really isn't a movie for someone who has night terrors already. It took about ten years for that crawling on the ceiling business to fade away from my mind. If only Freddy Kreuger had used jazz hands then I wouldn't even be telling you this now.

They say that public speaking is what most people fear. Pffftttt. That scares me not. Flop sweat when you're dying out there, even that's not scary. Me, failing, is actually pretty funny stuff. That's why I do it so often. I used to think not having a job would scare me. Four years after being laid off, I'm not scared, I'm not pining for the fjords, and I'm not looking back. You see the only thing I am truly scared of is a life of regrets. It may sound trite, but it's true. I live my life as an adventure. But without all the skydiving because, seriously man, you're just baiting fate with that.

Everybody Loves A Comeback

Hello first blog. I am back. Been awhile since I have visited here. I started this blog years ago for two purposes. As part of my broadcaster duties I wrote a blog on the radio station website at which I worked. I went over the topics of the day and commented even more I mean six minutes was not nearly enough time for me to express myself at each stopset. When I started to do podcasts I kept the same habits. I also wrote for a small town newspaper so I put those columns in here as well. The blog was named after my show, The Jane Ellen Experience. I thought it fitting for #throwbackthursday to update this today. Should you read any of the original posts, you will discover hat I found of interest that day. Of course, the podcasts are better. I have them saved on a hard drive. Maybe they are in a cache somewhere on the interwebz. My more recent posts are on my WP blog called Jane's Addiction. Primarily, on that site, I write about food. Food addiction. More food. Head hunger, stupid wantsies. Weight loss. Food again. Bariatric surgery. And food. Lately I felt the need to write in greater depth about whatever strikes my fancy. My fancy gets struck a lot. But I did not want to keep it just to the food topic. And thus, this dreck has emerged. No, I am far too tired to write you something decent. No, not tonight. Just thought I would wave from the back of the room. Oh, eight months until Christmas.