“Scissors mishap, air show disaster, chinese organ thieves; it’s a dangerous world.”

reset count

I’m recovering from a meltdown.  An airshow (and the practice leading up to it) shut me down like an off switch.  Bose QC35 noise-canceling headphones, worn from sunup to sundown, couldn’t shield me from the ridiculous pilot shenanigans; she said, acidly.  I was in air defense units for several years of my military career.  I’ve been vigilant of the sky ever since as if programmed to assume watch whenever outdoors.  It wasn’t part of my specialty, but I had the opportunity to witness, and a few times, (range) fire all of the Army’s air defense weaponry.  Cherished experiences.

I don’t worry about war, as many do.  America has been at war my entire life, and likely yours.  I have a tremendous amount of faith in our military from experiencing it firsthand.  I paid for this comfort with sweat, tears, and anxiety that too often manifested as inopportune hurling for distance.  (Raising fist in solidarity with anyone who has ever been beaten up for accidentally barfing on someone.)  It was worth it.  Plus, I had access to a lot of cool shit a decade before civilians; (like email.)  I just deleted a whole paragraph about the old days.  You’re welcome. 🙃

I’m hoping to regain my ability to speak aloud today.  I’m confident Solange’s A Seat at the Table on repeat will draw out my voice.  Music’s power over my neurology and mood astonishes and delights me.  It’s my favorite survival tool.  When I can’t talk, I tend to stop communicating altogether.  People are especially dangerous at these times, so it’s isolation without my consent.  When I recover basic functionality, I may enjoy solitude a little too much.  The rock I used to dwell beneath sends such warm invitations.  (In my head, Stevie Nicks clears her throat, then burns them while making eye contact.)  No worries on that front.  Heh.

I’m off to start wrapping my head around a mini-vacation this weekend.  Good thing I like obsessively planning for shit.  😂✌🏾💜

“A coffee table book about coffee tables!”

good dog

I discovered a new (to me) author, recently.  Michael Chabon.  I just began reading, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.  I’m on part three in the novel, and already I’ve decided to devour everything Michael Chabon publishes.  He’s a descriptive genius.  I can’t go more than a few pages without marveling over how precisely he managed to describe something.  I’m also a bit floored by how quickly I got to part three.

The story has the potential to trigger me regarding the Holocaust.  (Visiting the Dachau concentration camp memorial remains my deepest soul scar.)  I’m not willing to test whether I can travel there in my mind without weeping yet.  (I’m not big on voluntary snot fests or picking at intangible scars.)  I’m not letting this fear prevent me from continuing, though.  If I need a break, I’ll take it.  So far, I’m super engrossed in the story.

The fickle weather of late is messing with me.  Yesterday it was warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt.  Today, it’s equally pleasant but windy.  Tomorrow and Wednesday, thunderstorms are likely.  Thursday and Friday, perhaps snow. I just cleaned my winter coats for storage.  Heh.  I think I’ll put them away, and run on those days instead of dressing for the weather.  And then hopefully fail to mention it if I catch a Pokèmon cold as a result.  (Equally likely scenarios.) 😁

masked person

I found Amelia Bedelia doing something disgusting, earlier.  My gorge hasn’t settled enough to elaborate.  Suffice to say; I will not be kissing her on the mouth again.  I was going to say ever, but it’s more like until I forget what I witnessed.  (I just wished my attention span longer.)  I can feel an epic belly laugh building, so I’ll probably spend a good while laughing about it soon.  Someone funny should do a short on YouTube about the things pet lovers don’t talk about in polite company.  Just saying.

I had an interesting conversation with the Dr. who diagnosed my Asperger’s Syndrome.  It was about how I consider Seinfeld a goldmine of information on social behavior.  When at one point, I read how Jerry Seinfeld believes he’s also on the autism spectrum, it clicked.  It’s no surprise to me he’s fascinated by social interaction and relationships to the degree of making his show about nothing center on this theme.

The intense focus on what neurotypical minds usually consider irrelevant detail is a component of Seinfeld’s humor.  Part of why so many love his comedy is the inclusion of that internal flash of joy when you first notice something you’ve seen a thousand times.  He relates to people in ways they didn’t know they had in common.  Humor is his ticket into the social world.  I’m proud of him.  I’m also grateful for all the laughs and social skills I’ve gleaned from watching his show.  I’m off to band practice.  💜✌🏽

“Why shouldn’t we be able to do that once in a while if we want to?”

tea break

I’m having a good week.  There was a near-meltdown moment that initially devastated, but quickly developed into reaffirming communication and connection with people significant to me.  After taking some time to process the experience, I recognized positive aspects worthy of celebration.  I went from lamenting the challenges of being autistic in a neurotypical world, to strategizing new ways of coping with them in the future, in mere hours.

The speed and clarity of resolve astonished me.  I realize I’ve leveled up in the game of life.  I’ve been floating on a cloud of joy ever since.  The process of rebuilding and learning myself still feels new and intriguing.  I almost fell into a pit of sorrow over letting go of things I once held so close.  Examining the root of these values, and acknowledging the fact they were never mine, but only acquired by rote, helped me bypass the trap.  Yay.  🙃

The changes I’ve made are small, but the results immense.  I drink herbal teas, now.  In the past, I rejected all hot beverages, without bothering to determine why.  Now I know it’s because they require me to be present in my body while partaking to avoid injury.  (It’s funny to me in hindsight.) Asking myself why turned out to be an excellent method of understanding myself in many ways.  Naturally, it led to delving deeper with more questions.

unreality

Instead of feeling regret about being different, and trying to force me to change and pretend to be like others in pursuit of acceptance by strangers, I’m using my energy to know myself.  I’m no longer accepting the values and beliefs of others as my own.  If they don’t originate within my soul, they aren’t mine.  Pretending they were was slowly erasing the essence of me.  I have no use for acceptance based on unreality.

I’d rather be alone in the dark. – Sheryl Crow

I began watching another series on Netflix titled, Black Mirror.  It’s not a show I can binge watch, (she said while giggling.)  The first episode is excruciating.  It’s also brilliant.  It’s a 44-minute test to determine if you’re eligible to continue watching.  It’s a mental tattoo.  I’m pleased it exists as I love things that lead to new paths of thought and discussion.  It also provokes me to question and learn myself.

It’s dark and foggy this week, and I struggle to sleep when it’s so humid.  Last night, I lay in bed listening to Amy Lee (Evanescence.)  I thought about how her music has accompanied my life through many hardships and growing pains.  I think I finally grok why certain musicians reach me so profoundly.  It’s about energy.  My knowledge and vocabulary are presently limited on this topic, as I’m relying solely on intuition.  I plan to explore it further, though.

I used to get so offended when people would question my choices in music (often based on things as superficial as race.)  I think it’s because I didn’t know why some appeal to me far more than others.  I’m thrilled to understand.  Amy Lee, Stevie Nicks, ABBA, Lorde, Sheryl Crow, Bach, Mozart, etc.  These musicians create music I can climb inside and bask in energy that soothes my soul.  That’s why.  🙃😂  I’m off to band practice.  💜✌🏽

“Fight for her, Jerry! She’s sure as hell fighting for you!”

Camera lenses

I found out a few days ago the Fleetwood Mac concert is now in February.  I narrowly escaped a meltdown over canceled plans.  Instead, I’ve been coping with brain fog, but at least I still get to anticipate the new date gleefully for three months.  Brain fog sucks, but it’s much better than shutting down altogether.  I fought off The New and Improved Depression Monster (TNAIDM) last night.  I’m surprised by how quickly I managed to kick his sorry ass.  I’m trying not to think about it too much (because I’m worried it may have just been a flyby before an epic battle.)

The lingering melancholy is yet another round of recognizing I messed up (socially) again, but I haven’t yet figured out what I did wrong, or with whom.  It’s merely a sense I’ve offended without intent.  The evidence is so tenuous and speculative; I don’t dare accept it as a certainty.  Instead, I’m struggling to refrain from beating myself up over it, while also trying to convince myself refraining from all social situations isn’t an optimal solution.  (I wasn’t kidding when I confessed my inner five-year-old is usually in charge.)

bridge

I’m frustrated because I know social isolation is not only doable, it’s often attractive.  The downside is the fact it limits the depth of happiness.  I’m once again debating constant but lonely contentment in isolation, versus what is allegedly more healthy, positively more joyful, but also filled with lots of pain:  socializing.  I spend much time here; I should probably decorate this Freaking Chamber of Perpetual Deliberation.  Sigh.  Presently, the desire to withdraw emotionally and STFU be silent is overwhelming.  Sharing my thoughts is (evidently) irresistible and eventually devastating.  (All the swears.)

I love that humans are so complicated, with infinite depths within each.  It’s why they fascinate me.  Observing and interacting with them is like a drug to which I’m addicted.  It’s just that I can’t seem to master communicating.  It’s as if there’s an intricate dance I must perform to gain access, but I can’t hear the music.  I can almost hear the universe belly-laughing at me, though.  Chase that carrot, bitch!  I suppose it is a bit funny from a particular perspective.  I may suck at talking to people, but perhaps I’m like Wanda Sykes to the aliens watching us for entertainment.

Take Me Please t-shirt by Darruda

That’s the shirt I’m wearing right now, (expressing my usual sentiments toward aliens.)  I’m going to design one that says; I Might Be a Famous Comedian on Kepler-186f, then order it and wear it.  Yep.  I’m that weird, don’t you know.  😂  (And this is after decades of trying desperately to fit in.)  Fortunately, the older I get, the less I bother stressing over silly shit like clothes.  Clean and comfortable are the only criteria I aim for, these days.  I still get a good chuckle whenever I remember all the time I wasted worrying about what others think of what I’m wearing.  If you don’t like it, don’t wear my clothes.  😂 💜✌🏽

“Here’s to those who wish us well, and those who don’t can go to hell.”

All who live carry luggage on their journey

I realize I don’t explicitly discuss autism on this blog very often.  It’s because I’m autistic; it’s an intrinsic part of my perception and life, as is PTSD, and my ongoing battle against depression.  On my journey to becoming my best self, I encounter many allies who share their experiences and understand every aspect of my struggles.  Some are also autistic, but many carry luggage with different labels.

I’ve learned to apply caution when inviting others into my world.  It’s a painful, repetitive lesson.  I’m aware of other autistic people who choose to be hateful while gleefully invalidating those who don’t have a formal diagnosis.  (As if the medical community has even managed to produce definitive criteria that can pass a casual bullshit test.)  I’ve encountered people with mental or physical illnesses who decide to be mean and spiteful to others for who and what they are; as if it’s something anyone can control.  Their pain hasn’t yet taught them of its presence in the lives of all who live.

In hindsight, I’m always embarrassed by my naivetè.  I admit I once assumed marginalized people automatically possessed a more profound understanding and compassion for those who also suffer.  It’s brought me a great deal of pain as I recognize my mistake.  Going forward, I hope to be wiser.  It hurts so much to know there are people on this planet with whom I must guard my heart.Humans are diverse

I still feel like a new member of the autism community, years after discovering the online fellowship:  especially now that I’ve seen the pettiness and hatred spewed between members.  The irony is particularly disturbing;  autistic people who shun other autistics for being different than themselves in their challenges and experiences.  😲 🙄

I remember when I was thrilled to learn about neurodiversity and finally recognize my tribe.  I’m sad to realize it’s not as inclusive as I once thought. I remember how lonely I was, and I didn’t expect alienation from fellow aliens.  Nevertheless, I’m incredibly grateful for those who do accept and support me.  I cherish the love and fellowship of others also journeying on the path to their best selves.  It matters not to me what baggage or labels others carry, so long as they walk with kindness, compassion, and sincerity.

I’ve learned it’s easy to embrace diversity among humans.  I celebrate it.  It enriches my life, stretches my mind, and strengthens my spirit.  The smallest bit of effort ensures I can relate to anyone I choose.  No matter how we’re different, we’re all human.  We’re all incredible individuals who decide what we will become through our choices.  Thanks to those who help me grow. 💜  listen up

Thirty-three days until the Fleetwood Mac concert! (Performs the pre-choreographed dance routine.) 🙃✌🏽

Delayed P.S.  I’m sorry I said money is the only god on this planet.  It’s been eating at me ever since, but I only just figured out it’s also why I haven’t been able to sleep.  I’m sorry.  💜