Tag Archives: asperger’s

Not So Happy Holidays

IT’S HOW YOU SEE THINGS, NOT HOW IT REALLY IS

It’s when all your words come out in in monotone or in low volume or they don’t come out right at all. Your brain thinks the right word but the wrong word leaves your mouth. Or your mouth trips up the words. Or your brain just stops in mid thought.

And this angers people. They say, “What?” with aggravation. They want you to repeat yourself and you do but this time you take a deeper breath and you shout out what you have to say. It’s a lot of work and leaves you tired. Communicating verbally is so exhausting.

Why can’t it be easier like when you write music or stories or paint pictures…wait, no. They don’t understand those forms of communications. At least, not the deeper way you communicate through them. Or do they even care to see/read/listen to your art?

 

JOIN UP WITH THE CROWD

It’s when all the people are talking, laughing, shouting, screaming, clinking glasses, banging plates, and blasting bad music at once. Good times swirl into a into a sonic tornado that rips into your head like Pillsbury thorns and makes you want to cover your ears with a pillow or run out of the room or the house. You feel the eyes on you and can’t help but think they are wondering about you. Society states there must be something wrong with you. And there is.

You never feel this way at a concert/fest/club, standing in crowd, listening to four people you always loved playing music you never grew tired of. Maybe because you can hide your rocking/stomping/wiggling. Maybe because you can screw up the words as you sing and no one will hear you. Maybe because you’re invisible.

YOU NEED TO INTERGRATE YOURSELF

It’s when you sit in a crowded room and eat the food or stare at the television. Guests walk in and they say hi to you. You wave back. You weave through the crowd to get a drink. You say hi and smile. You climb the mountain. You socialized.

You could stop to interrupt their conversation with other people but that would be rude. It would be doubly rude to talk to them because you know what comes out of your mouth would not be proper. Your life and interests are worlds apart. You’re frank and honest.

Not because you’re a hurtful person, it’s because you are frank and honest. Illusions are wasteful. Politeness is pointless. You want to show your honest self, warts and butterflies. But that’s not how it works.

In the past you got polite laughter from them. Wide eye exchange. Mouths distracted with sipping drinks. Dying conversations. You die too and hope the Earth opens up under you. But all you can do is leave the conversation and go back to your chair. Keep eating. Try to keep still because you want to rock back and forth or bounce your leg or wiggle your fingers.

The only other option is to stand and stare while two other people talk. You nod, smile, and say, “Yep, yep,” and sip your drink.

No. Those are both horrible. Both tiring. Exhausting.

You should go back to your chair. Sit. Watch the television and wait for it’s time to leave. Take breaks to leave the house/apartment.

Or find that other freak in the room. Or maybe you should bring one with you.

I know I will.

Happy Holidays to my weirdo, freak, loser, geek, and monster brothers and sisters. And good luck.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Meltdowns (Shh we don’t talk about those)

I have meltdowns. Not tantrums. And I’m not crazy. People think and say I am crazy when I have/had them. I used to think I was crazy. But now that I know I’m an Aspie I know that they are meltdowns.

“How do you know they are not tantrums or that you are not one angry asshole?”

Because they don’t happen out of anger. They’re not from rage. I don’t hate you. They’re sparked from an information/sensory overload.

I have meltdowns once a week, sometimes once a month, sometimes once every other month. Those spacious times I’m able to recognize when a meltdown is going to happen. I stop, leave the scene, tell my self what is happening and why, and wait for it to pass. It’s all I can do. I wait for the pandemonium to leave and then reenter the pattern.

You see, that’s a big thing for me, patterns. When my pattern explodes into chaos I can’t handle it. I don’t mean the slightest slip, I mean chaos. Like three people in the room getting in the way, screaming and moving things around, while I’m trying to cook them dinner.

Chaos.

So I leave the room until the chaos leaves and dinner is late.

Another thing that sets me off is illogical thoughts and questions that hammer my brain.

This may sound insulting but neuro typical people live very illogical philosophies. Your lives are governed by dead people and those dead people had no idea what they were talking about. I know, I sound egotistical and elitists.

For example: I don’t believe in inequality but most of the people in the world does and when I’m hammered with it over and over in a thirty minute period the illogic spins my brain and pushes me into a meltdown. Or when NTs hammer me with selfishness (I’m a firm believer in altruism) over and over, I meltdown.

Most of the time, depending on whose around, I’m able to calm down before I explode but sometimes I don’t.

What is my meltdown like? No one gets hurt but me. I am incapable of hurting anyone. It’s not about anger. No hate. It’s not directed at anyone. My brain malfunctioned, glitched from the info, trying to balance the logic of my interior world to the overwhelming insanity of the so-called-real world.

I pace. I scream how nothing makes sense. I punch the walls or stove. Throw my arms. People look at me as if I’m nuts. In the end I feel exhausted and I have a wound. One time I accidently hit a pen someone was holding while swinging my arms and stabbed myself  in the hand. Didn’t feel it. I have a high tolerance for pain, by the way. I’ve had bruises on my hands and arms. I used to hit my head a lot. Now I got the beginning of a cataract so I don’t do that anymore.

Afterwards, I also feel shame and embarrassment. I wish me and my family didn’t have to go through this. Times like this is when I wish there was a drug that helped us. Not a cure for autism. A cure for overload, for meltdowns.

So that it. My meltdowns. I probably shouldn’t have written about them but I felt it was important to get it out. I don’t see much talk out there about it. It is an ugly subject. Cops like to handcuff kids at school when they have them. I’m sure marriages break up because of them. I’m fortunate. Very fortunate. Which makes me want to try for the longer gaps.

 

Autism is Evil. WTF? How did we get stuck with this?

You see/hear it on the web or on television or at your dining room table on the holidays. Anti vaccination rants. Vaccinations cause autism.

I saw a video recently about triplets. Perfectly fine and happy, as stated by the parents. They showed a picture of them, the babies. No video. Then the parents took them for a shot and BOOM. No eye contact, drooling, lifeless. AUTISM! Parents crying. Life over.

Things were never the same. Receipt lost. Can’t return the kids for a refund. You can’t sell them on eBay for a penny because no one wants defective autistic babies. They will never grow up to be bankers or hedge funders let alone plumbers.

But the worse part, the saddest, were the parents. The poor, crying parents whose lives were ruined. They were duped. The doctors told them that the shots would save their children from diseases and the government told them they had to do it. The parents were victims. Rubes. Shit. Even I feel like setting up a GoFundMe for them.

Nah. It’s all propaganda bullshit.

Fact: Real doctors/scientists are no where close to determining how autism starts. They are sure as shit that it doesn’t come from vaccinations. 

Fact: Government still pumps tons of money into research to find out the cause.

So one day we might know. Personally I hope there is no cure but maybe a treatment to handle the negative affects.

What do I think is the cause of autism? Genetics. It’s hereditary. It goes back before vaccinations. May even be evolutional.

Now, let’s humor the anti-vaccination people a moment. This shit is hurtful to us autistics. Think about it. They want to kill us. Stop the vaccinations 100% and you stop the race of autistics. (REALITY BREAK: We are born autistic and not given a shot like the Hulk or Captain America) We’ll die out. How fucked up is that? That’s like white supremacist. Neuro Typical Nationalist? Can we call them that? Do they want a world where everyone has bland, boring thoughts and a filtered mouth?

And like any other hate group, they focus on the low functioning autistic. They exploit their challenges with speech and motor skills, etc. to scare low intelligent adults into not vaccinating their children. Like chicken and small pox are better. Yeah. I still remember chicken pox. (IDIOT BOX: “There hasn’t been a case of small pox in a hundred years.” ME: “Could it be because of vaccinations?”) Fucking hell.

Or maybe the parents the vaccination groups are targeting are lazy. They want kids that are easy. Predictable. What is more easy and predictable than healthy.

But autism isn’t a sickness. I wouldn’t even call it a disability although it is labeled as one. Think of it as a physical language. Imagine your child is Superman. He/she is an alien who as come down to Earth and doesn’t know the language or the customs. Through ABA; physical, speech, and occupational therapies (whatever is needed) your child will learn how to communicate and move through this human world. But inside they will always be this alien. Sometimes they will slip and speak alien. Sometimes it will be glorious and sometimes it will conflict with society. Like a good parent, you will love and accept it because they are your child no matter what. He/she will always be Superman, er, woman.

Now why I don’t think there should be a cure for autism.

We’re awesome. We’re great thinkers. We’re honest. We have no filter. We have amazing concentration with things we love. Excellent organizers. Imaginative. Knack for seeing how things work, seeing things that others don’t. Loving. Loyal. We stand strong on our own and don’t follow a crowd. Funny as fuck. Some of us have changed the world dramatically, for the best. We’re the ultimate snowflakes; no two autistics are alike. We’re not great conversationalists, but we communicate in other extraordinary ways if you listen.

You never hear about how autistic go on crime or murder sprees. We just don’t do it. Sure, we have outbursts and may break property, but that’s just because you NTs are just so fucking impossible. My point is we are not filling up jails.

So why would the anti-vaccination people want us dead? These Neuro Typical Nationalist. Are we just pawns for lazy parents? Are they just anti-government? Do they want to screw with Big Pharma?

I don’t know. I do know that we are stuck in the middle. Used as pawns, used to look bad, used to look like freaks to dummy adults.

Well, fuck you anti-vaccinationist and the Neuro Typical Nationalist horse you rode in on.

 

 

2 things that bite my balls (one for each)

This week I was only able to sub 5 stories and received 2 rejections.

Was hoping for more rejections this week so I could turn more stories around. Though, an acceptance would have been nicer.

Markets are still slim. Wish there were more crime markets that paid well.

The sci-fi/ya short I have been working on this week is now at 4,400 words, tentatively called The Creative. Bland I know, but I still have some more words. I should finish the draft tomorrow morning. I’ll think of something better. I already have some notes for a second draft. Also I want to keep it under 5k but if it goes over I’m not too worried considering the genre it’s in. Sci-fi markets seem to take higher word counts and also pay higher rates.

So yes, things that piss me off. I’ll keep this short.

One, markets that make you pay to submit your work.  Many lit based markets, think University, want to charge you a fee so they will consider you short story for acceptance of their journal. I do have some lit stories that I push around and often run into these markets.

Also there is another type that will not read your submission unless you are a subscriber to their magazine. (No, this is not the market that says read a FREE issue before you submit to get a feel of what we like. They want you to pay to subscribe before submitting.) For fear that you will not know what they want to publish. For these people don’t have time to write guidelines to explain themselves. Or have SO many submissions from SO many subscribers to read. I don’t know.

All I know that they are both capitalist scum fucks that want the writer’s money or lazy, greedy basterds and you should stay away from them

Two, I have social anxiety disorder and Asperger’s. On one hand I’m compelled to stay away from people because I have things going on in my head to take care of. On the other I just don’t want to deal with people. But I still want to socialize when I’m in the mood.

When I do no one ever meets up with me. Not talking about strangers. Talking about neighbors, people I live with for the last ten years. They give me scripted talk and move on. I know nothing personal about them. So freaky and weird. This sounds familiar. I mentioned something like this before. But you know what I mean. I want to reach out and I’m the one on drugs for depression. But no one else wants to take the time. They’re in their own little world. I guess they’re Aspies too?

 

 

Sorry.  No talking bugs or anuses.

Just about done with 3rd part of Kharma part 12 revisions. Nothing much to say. I must sound like a broken record. Writing about writing is not very exciting. Not like the movie Naked Lunch. Sorry.  No talking bugs or anuses. No spies. No Interpol. No drug taking. My life is boring. The words in the story are exciting. To me anyway. Maybe to you. I’ll have to wait and see.

Been stalling on my Italian lessons over at Duolingo. I think it’s from all the revisions I’ve been doing lately. They wear me out and take so long and then I have other stuff and I just can’t force myself to do it. I think when I get back into witing 4 pages a day of a draft I’ll get back into the Italian lessons again. It was a good system. What I learned is still in my head…sort of. It pops up in my writing. I’ve meshed it in with names and such.

If all goes at planned I can start a new short in June, one that’s been burning in my head the last few weeks, and then a new Kharma, also burning, soon after that.

Been reading this collection of Tim Burton essays about his films. Some deep analytical stuff. Before this I’ve only read his own POV of his work. Interesting to get a subjective stance other than my own.

What I love about Burton’s work, what I connect with, is his exploration of duality. I’ve talked about this in previous posts. What we show people and what we hide. The perfect example of this is in Batman Returns, the uses of masks and what we hide; real freaks verses created freaks. So many people need to wear a mask to be who they are. While people like me (and you) act the way we do naturally without the mask and suffer for it, ending up dead and carried out by emperor penguins. :-p

What I’m taking from this collection (I’m only halfway through it) is how his films are broken down into 2 plot styles:

  1. Hero story. The hero who never changes ventures into a foreign world and changes others.
  2. The artists/storyteller, how they find the means to create and execute their voice.

There may be more one or two more. I can’t fit all his films into these two structures.

The essayists also bring up society, family, sexism, capitalism, and colonialism. Funny to recall all the people in my life who have put down Tim Burton’s films and yet these people have given them such critical thought.

But let’s break that criticism with more Stain Boy, episode 4

Even years from now they may mesh

More work on third chunk of Kharma part 12.

Ideas/threads to carry over into future stories pop up in my head as I edit along. I write them down in my little book for later. Bits for the next story or even the third or tenth story down.

Can’t stress enough to a new writers how important it is to carry a tiny note/sketch book. Things pop into you head at any time. For me it’s when my brain relaxes or is distracted, in meditative states. Listening to music, watching movies, reading, showering, or by water. Like David Lynch says, You gotta grab them. Write them down even if they’re not perfect. You never know what they can be later. Even years from now they may mesh with something else that could pop up later. 1+1=3

Went over final proof before publication on short story for Unwinnable Magazine. Yes, that was the short that I did many revisions on. “You Are Disturbing The Peaceful Mood I Am In” should be out in their May issue soon.

Oddly the editor wants me to send him an invoice for payment so he can remember to pay me. Which is fine and honest of him. Sometimes these editors forget to pay. Sometimes they never pay. So I will do that.

I discovered that Thomas the Tank Engine will release a new character with autism this summer which is cool. Then I thought, shit. Not for the character. For the fact that the vaccine people out there will put it down like they put down Sesame Street and their autistic character. How it’s bad to normalize, create acceptance and enlightment for autism, how parents shouldn’t be okay with their children being defective, and okay with doctors and the pharmaceutical companies making them that way.

Grrrr, poxy fuckers.

No. I’m not going to get into it.

Thomas is good. Thomas is good for autistic kids too with those big expressive faces. My son loved watching Thomas. God, the little bastard ran tracks through out the apartment and sped ten trains at a time. I had no place to walk with out tripping and stepping on them. We had all the DVDs and I had to watch that Alec Baldwin movie. I did like watching the episodes with George Carlin in them, though.

Still have the tracks and trains in storage. I should bring them out for my daughter to play with. She’s gonna be 4 this summer, she’s just about right for them.

Anyway, here is episode 3 of Stain Boy:

Too Much Information. Not Politically Correct. Whatever.

Started revising this Kharma short story that turned into a novel. Going well. I wrote a solid draft so I don’t see it giving me much trouble.

Revising second short that was requested for revision. Think I should have it done in two more days and then out. Was originally 1k and now it has the meat the editor requested: 1,700.


 

Neuro Typical people are weird. There are a lot of them in the world. They are a strange bunch. They like to talk about the strangest things. All my life I had to sit across from them and pretend to have conversations about the weather, traffic, food, clothes, popular television shows, other people not in the room, bosses, music, etc.

During said conversations I would always offer something about myself, my interests, my life, my flavor of talking in hopes they would offer something about themselves.

Bad move.

Strange looks, comments, body language from the other person and never personal sharing.

I’ve been told I have no filter. TMI, Too Much Information. Not Politically Correct. Whatever. I’ve been made to feel that there’s something wrong with me before I reached double digits. I’m weird.

And like most organisms I learned to adapt. I did two things. I learned to speak the Neuro Typical Language. I fucking suck at it. I do a lot of tongue biting and angry grunting and nodding. Then just fall back into my usual way of being.

Or I kept my mouth shut. I avoid people, parties. I smile and wave. I’m soon perceived as weird. I developed social anxiety disorder and depression and now pop no frills Lexapro.

The irony: Be myself, I’m seen as weird. Avoid them, I’m seen as weird.

But I’m not weird.

I’m Neuro Exception.

Biologically my brain does not have time with such frivolous shit such as the weather, traffic, and the people you want to talk about behind their back.

And I’m smart enough to pick up the secret. All this frivolous, meaningless talk is just a ruse to deflect me from seeing that You don’t want to talk about your Neuro Typical self for some reason while I have no problem talking about myself.

What do you have to hide?

What are you scared of?

Maybe you are just as weird as me?

Or just boring?