I conveniently forgot some of my quirks typically eliminated by using Prozac. I’m a bit surprised by how quickly they’ve returned, although I am pretty much sweating it out of my body as fast as I can. Today it’s supposed to storm, but it’s sunny and humid right now. The air feels too heavy to breathe. Fortunately, I’m heading down to Denver with M.’s sister later. She’s going to help beta test my Hacker Camp. We have four little girls and two little boys this first time. They’re all nieces and nephews of the people I used to work with.
Their ages range from 7 to 13. We’re just doing day camp, so they go home at the end of the day. Two weeks with weekends off. If it goes as well as I’m anticipating, I have an entire curriculum I designed over the winter that will involve an after school program. One of my former co-workers is an art student (working part-time.) She’s an amazing illustrator. I hired her to do branding and to make my Hacker-in-Training manual look lovely. I can’t wait to see what she’s made.
It’ll be fun checking in on my former co-workers. They’re sophisticated Denverites, now. I’m so proud of them. I don’t fit there anymore, but I miss it sometimes. I liked working exclusively with autistic people. It still feels odd not to hear a periodic yip sound from D. I didn’t realize how comforting it was until it was absent. It must have been a subconscious anchor. Neurotypical (NT) people don’t have tics, (visual or auditory.) I can float completely away from them if I’m not vigilant. The differences between working environments are most notable in cost to my energy level. NT work environments take a lot more energy.
The brain zaps that indicate the Prozac is leaving my body have begun. It’s a bizarre feeling. It feels kind of like an electric shock originating in my brain, but it’s not at all painful. The duration is so short it’s over before I notice. I imagine tiny people reviving my brain cells in a little emergency room. Clear! Each zap brings me closer to The Muse. I forgot about how much time I used to spend imagining, (before Prozac.) It’s slowly returning. I’m going to have to tighten up my daily schedule and use more whiteboards. My hallway and bathroom walls are where I keep my visual cues. I don’t even allow myself to think about not having them. It’s too disturbing.
I’ve accepted I’ll always need a cue sheet in the shower. I’ve wasted too much time trying to force myself to be neurotypical in ridic ways. When democracy is restored in America, I’m going to retire. I have lots of plans, and some are likely to work out. My dream is to create a space designed for people like me, then maintain it. Like me is deliberately vague because I’m still working on a definition. I mean people who would enjoy it. In my imagination, where it now resides, it’s a gentle place where you go for a stroll, or to sit while taking a rest from forcing your square peg into a round hole. Where you can set down your masks and exhale. Where having no shields doesn’t hurt.
So far, I have a vague image. I have time for it to come more into focus. It would be easy to say it’s for autistic people or it’s for neurodiverse people, but easy is too often wrong. I’ve never met anyone who didn’t wear masks. Fortunately, my imagination is about to make bail. I’ll know when I write my first poem (in ages), things are as they should be. Before Prozac, I wrote poetry often. The Army was a favorable environment for poetry, and when I was a private, I had lots of time to write while being introduced to the Hurry Up and Wait lifestyle.
I’m taking my new iPad 10.5″ Pro instead of a laptop. I’m hoping it entices me to do some artwork. I saw a photo of Stevie Nicks I want to turn into a vector so I can blow it up and have it printed on vinyl. She was probably in her twenties, and she’s oblivious to the camera. It’ll take a long time, but will be so worth it. It’s a strikingly beautiful picture. Mostly because it captures her without any shields. Photographers should be granted invisibility cloaks because most (neurotypical) adults are never unshielded near a camera. Stevie Nicks drops her shields when she performs, and it’s as significant as her talent and energy. The combination is like an irresistible magnetic pull.
I’m still brainstorming a way to see her sing live. I noticed she’ll be performing in St. Paul next month. It’s not an option, but knowing me, I’ll probably get excited about being in the same time zone as Stevie Nicks. (I’m weird like that.) Hopefully, they’ll release it for purchase in the future. What I’d really like is for someone to film a Stevie Nicks concert in VR (virtual reality), so those of us who aren’t wired for big crowds can experience it too. (Repeatedly.) That would be so. fucking. awesome. So yeah. Someone get on that. I’m off to finish packing.