Why Am I Studying Neuroscience When I Have a Disease Science Can’t Explain: A Brief Synopsis From My BookLife Insane: My Memoir—Making of the Madman(Case Number: TXu001850659, US Copyright Office, Date: February 2, 2013)

Abstract

For as long as I can remember; I have been classified by syndrome, typified into clinical diagnoses, and treated as a psychiatric patient. I was born on November 12, 1983 in the hill rolling northern parts of the States. From birth till the mid/late 1980s I had high functioning autism and in the late 1980s till 1990s I had attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. During this period, I was held back in first grade and received remediated 5th-grade schooling; my teachers always flabbergasted as to what I had. Nearing the turn of the century, the diagnosis that I had took a “downturn” as it reads in my medical history, for the worse. Although I started to do considerably better in school, recording excerpts of an encyclopedia and listening to the melody of my voice explain arcane subjects (From my Memoir, “Words and The Infamous Brain.” “Words”: With a Sony MiniDisc player before the advent of MP3s, I recorded my voice to 140 mini discs [MDs] each between 80 and 320min long containing 74 980 definitions, explanations, descriptions, and tales of life. “The Infamous Brain”: a 309-page bibliography with 337 600 words typed, not cut and paste, so as to manually perform memorization. Additionally, an obscure definiendum list with 2306 pages and 311 873 words, which I would read till I passed out from exhaustion. Unfortunately, during a rather episodic depressive moment, in haste, I destroyed more than half of my entire oeuvre [New Years 2006/2007]. All that left are the 35 MD tapes and the documents detailing all the information I recorded and attempted to retain), my consummate mental disposition got “tragically severe” as my psychiatrist at the time described the events of a “disparate” young man. These events climaxed in 2001, when I was hospitalized for over 3 months, missing my 18th birthday, not as a free person, instead spending it with people who talked to walls, inanimate objects, and God—apparently the conversations were not monologic.