All through my schooling I dealt with a condition. Constantly keeping me from concentrating, always ensuring I’d be the bane of my teachers’ lives. It never distracted me personally, but it distracted everyone else around me, and it certainly brought things to a halt when a teacher would have to stop class to address the issue.
â€œTony. STOP DRUMMING.â€
Unconscious drumming. Other drummers understand my plight. It mostly comes when I’m in deep concentration. It aids my thought process. Whether it be a muffled thud of my feet on the floor, or dull slap of my fingertips on the desk, it pretty much drove everyone nuts. Everyone but me. What drove me nuts, was trying to not do it. The amount of concentration it took for me to NOT drum, was twice the amount I would have when drumming.
Maybe this will be my new ex-post-facto excuse for my performance in school.
Today, I sit on the train, eyes closed, relaxing. Alien Ant Farm plays on my mp3 player. Moments pass, and I’m suddenly aware of a pressure on my finger. It’s my wedding ring vibrating against my finger. At the same time a sound comes to my attention. It is a high pitch tinking sound, coming from the direction of my hand. It plays in perfect rhythm with Alien Ant Farm‘s Rubber Mallet.
I open my eyes, and I’m greeted with the stares of four other people.
It never ends.