Tag Archives: pain

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.

 

 

 

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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.

 

 

How Does One Become A Worthy or Relevant Human For Sexual Assault?

More women, and men, are coming out with their sexual assault stories in Hollywood. Victims feel empowered now. Stronger. They stand together. A family is growing.

It’s even spreading outside the entertainment industry . A few weeks ago women protested with the #metoo hashtag. Most of the women in my life spoke out and revealed their stories. I wasn’t surprised. I know that there are predators out there. I’m a man. I know what they’re capable of. I know what I’m capable of. But what makes me different from the predator is that I care for my little sisters.

Reading the public response to the ongoing news can be uplifting and enraging. I enjoy seeing women and men sticking up for these actresses and employees who come out exorcise their torment. But then you have men and women who are tired of hearing it.

“They’re nobodies. Irrelevant. Not worthy. They’re just trying to further their failing career by jumping on the bandwagon,” is my favorite.

These comments blew up right from the start when Rose McGowan came out with her story. Or as the contesting public called her: Rose McNobody. Then there was Asia Ar-no-no.

(NOTE: I have had mad respect for Rose since she won my heart with Amy Blue and Asia since Demons 2)

Two failed actresses that no one heard of or haven’t work in a long time. Two failures that crave the lime light. So desperate that they both cooked up rape stories in order to re-energize their career.

How did they get this plan? Two women on opposite sides of the ocean?

Well, back in the seventies their was this woman Jane Limelight, who did the same thing. She won the Oscar for best actress and then her career went down hill.

She was a good girl, you see. Never sucked a cock or fucked a producer in Hollywood. Always memorized her lines and stepped on her mark for the camera. Did her press junkets. Families and kids loved her. Nixon and Regan loved her.

But since she won that Oscar she couldn’t snag the great rolls anymore. It’s like she plateaued. Reached the top and had no where to go. But this actress knew there was higher.

So what did she do? She claimed she was raped by a studio head. The case never went to court. She just made the accusation. And the press and public ate it up. She became the victim everyone loved. She was offered brilliant roles and television shows. The studio head eventual killed himself. He was probably innocent but that doesn’t matter.

Jane Limelight still works today. You probably love her but don’t even realize it.

But you cant fool the public twice. There can be only one actress that uses rape and sexual assault to heighten her career.

Or could there be two? I mean, what if the first actress grows old or gets cancer and dies. Another actress has to take her place. What would be the discerning public’s standards for being a worthy and relevant human for sexual assault.

Obviously she can’t be well-read and educated. She can’t be a talented actress that has one trade awards. She can’t work regularly. She can’t move on from acting to directing and producing. She can’t be out-spoken. She can’t have a brain.

Ah! I got it. The perfect woman, or man, for worthy and relevant rape and sexual assault needs to be silent, still, and compliant until the day they DIE!

Fuck that.

I don’t think I’m ever going to be relevant and or worthy if that’s the case.

And neither should anyone.

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?

 

 

But we’re not those kinds of people are we?

Finished those two short story revisions and started submitting them today. The YA market is a bit edgy and controversial so I’m hoping the story will fit well there.

Of course the mystery crime markets are so fucking slim for the second story. I just subbed it to Hitchcock. Acceptance there is as slim as the pickings but I’ll give it 4 months and then sub someplace else.

That sci-fi/ya story I was on the fence about last week I started on Saturday. Doing 2 finished pages a day with screaming kids and wife around (he he), I managed to get over 2k words (11 pages) as of this morning. Looks good. Any doubts of repeating myself are not there. Stupid me, right? I’m liking it. Feels different from anything I did before. Think I’ll be done with it by the end of the week, hoping.

Son had his dental operation on Friday. The brave little booger had three teeth pulled, not two. The third was just a loose baby tooth that was hanging out and the dentist said, “What the fuck. We might as well take this one too.”

The insurance worked out. We only had to pay for the anesthesia. Considering the whole bill would have been almost 2k I’m not complaining. Plus, how can you let a child be awake for a thing like that. I had one tooth pulled and those needles were a nightmare.

Son had no pain when he came home and all through the weekend. With any luck he’ll have no more broken fillings with cracked teeth. But we’re not those kinds of people are we?

Anyway, I forgot Stainboy last time. Here is epi five: