Staying Sharp: 5 Guilt-Filled Days on the Big R, for Ritalin

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In fact, being on Ritalin was like landing in Manhattan and assimilating in fast-forward. First you feel confusion, then a little exhilaration and then, after a few days and a few more milligrams than is recommended, all-out aggression. As I walked down the streets, I didn't even see the tourists. I just saw the line I had to pick through them to get where I had to go. I stepped out in front of cars that were shooting through the lights, threw myself on to subways and cursed gratuitously. I had to apologize to one poor lunch companion, a journalist from out of town who wanted advice on working in the city and whose chances of success I outlined a little too graphically. I told him I had just started taking Ritalin. He told me he took it instead of a disco nap to go clubbing. Wait. We're putting what percentage of the nation's kids on this drug?

But if I was becoming a New Yorker squared on Ritalin, I was doing it without any big-city jadedness or ennui. Nothing seemed too hard. All my deadlines were invigorating, and all the work I had to get done to meet them lay like a playground before me. It was going to be a hoot. I didn't get the work done any faster, but I never felt intimidated or overwhelmed by it.

On the other hand, I didn't get it done any better either. I think I might have done it worse. There was an engine driving me and no moment of rest. Watching TV was almost impossible. I couldn't sit still, could not even derive pleasure from our household's favorite pastime, mocking David Caruso's cadences on CSI: Miami: "Where's [long pause] your vault?" I kept wishing Deadwood were on. Now that's a Ritalin-friendly show.

I definitely got more done, but it was at the cost of those moments when, while doing nothing, you have a great idea or find a solution or arrive at the perfect headline. I had no great ideas on Ritalin. I had some really bad ones, like chasing the pills with two vodka gimlets—my teeth felt itchy for hours—but it was all movement, no color. My life became like a bad soccer game in which there were lots of goals but no thrilling play on the field.

By the way, that's the kind of incisive sports analysis that lands you on TV. And I'm keeping a few extra pills handy, just in case.