“You can’t go in there, brazenly flaunt the rules, and then think I’m gonna share with you!”

We’re going home tomorrow, (early.)  I miss Amelia Bedelia.  I also miss my weighted blanket.  My stamina for being away from home is low.  My brain is threatening a slow reboot.  Naturally, I’ve done much better with pacing myself today.  (Nothing like a little motivation fear.)  😂

I watched the new Jerry Seinfeld special on Netflix.  He had me laughing so hard I had to run around a little.  I thought only Wanda Sykes and Dave Chappelle could do that to me.  I was mistaken.  I’m a tiny bit disappointed I didn’t grow out of laughing until it feels like my bones are jelly.

Adulthood has been laughing at my poorly conceived expectations for decades.  It’s not as bad as the post-crying hiccups during the audible winding down process I still go through after every cry, I guess.  Sigh.  I know these aren’t relevant indications of being grown, (but my ego begs to differ.)

Dammit, Ego.  Go lay by your bowl.  I’m having a day.  I’ve decided not to classify it, (my life, my rules.)  I still play by the same life rules I learned as a child.  If I call the front seat, it’s no longer available to whoever decides it’s not fair.  Because rules.

The only problem with this strategy is the fact not everyone is still playing.  I seriously hope refusing to play causes premature aging.  Wow.  I’m kinda mean today.  But come on!  Get with the program, people who think calling it doesn’t count.  It counts!  There’s no logical reason to abandon rules created to increase harmony among people.  Nada.

I’m going to miss Lyft.  I went to Target to buy some candy, earlier.  I’ve wanted to do this many times, but didn’t because at home, Target is deep in the no-driving zone, (for me.) Weekend driving near the mall is beyond my frustration tolerance as well as my driving skill.  Ordering candy from Amazon sucks.  By the time it arrives, the desire is long gone.

It leaves me with enough time to remember the Basic Training Candy Binge that led to the Projectile Rainbow Hurling Incident.  (I can talk about it now, because I already ate my candy.)  I’m good for about a year.  Whew.  I think sitting still and typing this nonsense has helped me settle.  Tomorrow will be here before I notice.  Yay.  Peace.  💜

“The tradition of Festivus begins with the Airing of Grievances.”

festivus23

Happy Festivus, one and all!  I’m pleased to report I’m no longer a peon at work, but in negotiations to be a part owner.  It’s kind of funny I had to take a risk to convince someone else to do the same.  I’m such a soldier.

I’m back in Denver with M. in tow.  We’re staying for the holiday.  It was a last minute decision, which usually levels me at this time of year.  Fortunately, it was my idea.  (It just isn’t a holiday without being stressed out.)  We both have family here, too.

I’m mostly thinking about my new project and brainstorming ideas.  I’m also trying to rehydrate, which is why I’m still awake.  (I don’t want my black to crack.)  On my brief stop at home, I picked up my new hair products from Form Beauty.

I opened and smelled them, and they’re very lightly scented to me, which means they’re probably unscented to most people.  I’m thrilled with the presentation, amount of product, free sample (perfect for travel,) and the minimalist design of the bottles.  I’ve only used the hair lotion so far, but it’s fabulous.

I love how the site asks excellent questions about your hair and routine, then figures out the best hair care regimen for each individual.  Such as the fact I wash my hair daily because I run, and I cross train with swimming.  These are important things to consider before choosing what will work best with my hair.  (They do this for every hair type, so check them out if you have hair.)  I’m off to try sleeping.  Happy holidays to those who celebrate.

humanfund

“Next thing you know you’re saying they should have their own schools!”

three-yellow-life-saving-buoys-on-beach-PWNY4RC.jpg

I feel like I’ve gotten a second wind.  (It probably just means I’ve recovered homeostasis.)  Before I forget, any geniuses who want me to link their blog, I’m happy to oblige.  You don’t have to be autistic.  I’d love to add links to our allies;  people who support actually autistic people as a self-advocating group endeavoring to improve our access to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

I enjoy celebrating and encouraging others who are driven to be their best self.  If that’s you, dear genius, just let me know in the comments section below.  🙃  I know I go on and on about how amazing humans are as a species, but in my line of work (AI dev), this is reiterated on a daily basis.

One of the blogs I follow is Editing AdvantageEA just graduated with a bachelors degree in English.  (You know Ms. Grammatically Challenged is wicked impressed.)  I hope you all take a moment to congratulate her.  I’m definitely going to hire her the next time I need to write an investment prospectus.

I’m heading to Denver tomorrow to meet with a new client.  I’m excited as I’ll be designing a custom musical instrument for a musician with a recent spinal chord injury.  I discussed my latest project of creating an electronic drum kit for a drummer with cerebral palsy (my bro) to a former client.  They were intrigued and mentioned me to the new client.  It led to a long FaceTime chat and a new project.  Yay.

My boss said go for it, as long as I don’t quit.  I have mixed feelings about that conversation, but it’ll keep for now.  M. is supportive of my plan to pay back Stevie Nicks, (Amy Lee, Beyoncè, Sheryl Crow, Eminem, etc.) for all they’ve given me through their words and music by paying it forward.  (He agrees it’s a better idea than trying to figure out how to send them more shit that will likely confuse them at best, from someone they were previously unaware existed.)  😂

Back to Hogwarts to learn more wisdom.  Peace.

 

 

Yeah, he’s dating a crayon.

I’m in Denver.  M. is babysitting Amelia Bedelia in my absence.  She thinks he’s a heated cushion that dispenses treats, too, so she’ll be okay.  I have a pet cam near her climbing tree thingy.  I can talk to her through it using my phone.  She usually comes over to see how I’m doing that, then knocks it to the floor.  She’s on a lifelong mission to make sure all surfaces are clear of objects (not nailed down.)  She’s totally winning.

S. (M.’s sister) and I have been blasting Stevie Nicks music and dancing around.  I got too hot, so I’m taking a cool down break.  My body sucks at regulating my temperature.  If I get too hot and continue doing whatever activity has me overheating, I barf…  I can juggle, too.  🙃  The TV is 75″, which sounded awesome at the time.  Now I find it overwhelming, and I’m tripping over people’s skin in 4k.  It’s not as perfect as it looked in 1080P.  The actors are so real.  I mean I knew they were real, but apparently, I used to think they had fake skin.  I like reality better.

 

I’m trying to distract myself from acknowledging my anxiety.  Between the news and being away from home, I’m a bit rattled.  So I should totally stop writing about it.  S. has been noticing weird shit about me out loud.  I hope it doesn’t mean I’m getting on her nerves.  It’s making me laugh because it’s shit I never noticed.  Like putting my plate up high while it cools, then forgetting about it, then remembering when I realize I’m still hungry and it’s less appealing.

I helped her get to the this is why I don’t cook part.  (Nature knew there were going to be people like me, so she made fruit and nuts.)  S. is an excellent cook.  I’m going to put forth extra effort to eat dinner at the table with her while it’s still warm.  I think I probably fucked up, but I need to think about it some more.  I put my food up high because I have a cat, but she’s not here.  Ah well, I’ll do better at dinner.  S. is a lot of fun to hang out with, and she’s funny.

There are going to be two new Harry Potter books!!!  I didn’t expect it, and I’m so happy.  There are so many books I’m looking forward to right now.  I collect things to look forward to in the future.  They’re my little arsenal of guided anti-depression missiles.  When the Depression Monster has me in an illegal hold, and I can’t muster the energy to hold my head up, I can still think about joyful things to come.  I have notes to myself in my hallway to remind me it’s there when I need it.  (I pace a lot when I’m anxious, so I figured two birds.)

I miss M. and my cat (and would very much like to return home immediately.)  Sigh.  I met two of the kids who will be attending the camp earlier.  They’re so cute I can barely stand it.  We mostly talked about their missing teeth (twin 7-year-olds.)  I’m excited for it to begin on Monday.  I have a sponsorship prospect meeting next week, (S. is going with me, yay.)  The camp is going to be free if I have to pay for it out of my own pocket, but that’s not likely.  Frankly, it would be worth it to me to pay kids to attend.  Fortunately, I’m not the only one who understands how to invest in the future.

The best part is they’ll graduate with tools that apply to all aspects of life.  You want to be a ballerina?  Perfect!  I’ll teach you how to map your course, and troubleshoot obstacles along the way.  Hacking is about finding solutions to questions with the means at hand.  It’s generally considered to be a method of subverting computer security, but that’s an outdated interpretation, in my opinion.  To me, hacking is about critical thinking, perspective shifting, puzzle solving, brainstorming, and MacGuyver’ing.  It’s about thinking differently and optimizing.  (I did a better job of explaining in the handout, but I can’t reach it from here.)

I recognize my autistic acquaintances and friends may be thinking, “So hacking is like being autistic (aspie) on purpose.”  Yep.  What we do on a daily basis to fit in as best we can.  (Except it’s optional.)  I suppose I’m kind of giving ladders to already tall people in some ways.  However, I want today’s children to (figuratively) be able to reach everything on the highest shelves (of life) when they’re ready.  Even those that don’t exist yet.  Perhaps especially.  I’m cold now, so I’m off to dance.

 

Three squares? You can’t spare three squares?!

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.

Can’t stand ya… can’t stand ya…

Insomnia is kicking my ass.  It’s also fascinating me, which is annoying.  I’ve gotten new information recently that broke my resolve against hating Drumpf and his owner.  I know I’m dabbling in self-destruction, and that hating them will do nothing to deter their vile intentions.  It’s incredibly inefficient, too.  I’ll be channeling this otherwise wasted energy on delivering meals for Meals On Wheels.  I have a few other ideas for ways to recompense as well.

It turns out ending therapy was like blowing a thread.  Hindsight continues to beat me about the head and neck.  I got an offer on my property in Denver.  I wasn’t planning on selling, but the offer is good, and I know the buyer.  I’m going to take it.  I love Denver and will continue to visit often, but my next address will be a PO Box and forwarding service.  My former coworkers are settling in far better than I anticipated.  My doctor from Boston is there with her adult son helping iron out wrinkles in the transition.  I’ll be heading there soon to tie up loose ends in my unit.

My lease here is up in August, but I plan on signing another.  There are lots of new complexes springing up, but they’re on the outskirts of town, and most don’t allow pets.  Amelia Bedelia loves my insomnia.  She helped me assemble and configure some Raspberry Pi projects I’ve been building instead of sleeping.  Too bad I can’t teach a cat to code.  I set up some individually addressable LEDs a few nights ago.  I’ll probably keep it on the rainbow chasing setting I have now.

I still suck at photography, but you can see it well enough.  It doesn’t show the motion, but I’m not confident my video shooting skills are any better.  The Fisher Price Sesame Street has all the original pieces, but the handle broke when I was a kid, and the stickers are a bit faded.  I used to spend hours arranging the furniture and people.  Then I discovered Barbies.  My mom saved it for me, and now it’s a reason to smile when I see it.  The other building is the Lego Detective Office, and it’s what I did last week when I couldn’t sleep.

I hope I have better luck sleeping tonight.  I’m so tired it hurts.  I haven’t heard from the woman with whom I was going to collaborate on a blog entry.  I hope all is well with her.  I also hope I didn’t accidentally offend her or scare her off.  I’m sure I’ll spend time futilely calculating the probabilities later.  Instead of sleeping.  Because apparently I don’t do that anymore.  I feel like I’m stuck in an Edgar Allen Poe story.  Sleep for Alison, nevermore.  I just checked.  I still hate Drumpf and his bare-chested, horse riding demon.  And their evil court.

I’m drawing my line in the sand.  If you still support Drumpf after the FBI accepted the CIA conclusion that Russians hacked to help him win, which is treason, you’re dead to me.  My love is conditional.  So is my like, amicability, consideration, and tolerance.  I don’t tolerate evil.  I don’t tolerate those who pretend they don’t recognize evil when in reality, they just don’t care unless it effects them directly.  So dead.  So dead to Alison, (Monica).

I feel so much lighter now that I’ve taken my stance.  I’ve lost 9 lbs since I voted for Clinton from the shock.  Also, being this overtired messes with what little sense of time I have, and I end up eating 2 meals a day instead of 3.  Basically, I eat breakfast twice in 24 hours or so.  I’m not concerned.  My appetite will recover without effort on my part.  In the meantime, I’m cold unless I’m in the shower.  I thought I preferred being cold to being hot, but it turns out it’s only true when I’m hot.  I have another appointment with an endocrinologist next month.  It’s at 4:20, to my delight.  I’m off to read.

The tomato never really took off as a hand fruit.

I made it to Denver.  My flight was delayed from taking off because of storms.  We got there an hour late, so it wasn’t too bad.  I sat next to an older gay couple on the plane.  They were cool, and we discussed the weather, and where we were headed.  I had the window seat as usual.  I started to get anxious after we sat on the plane for an hour, but I tweeted it and a friend responded right off.  It made all the difference.  I got picked up by my nephew, and we went to a dispensary on our way to his house.

It was the same one I usually use, Terrapin Station in Aurora.  They have good security, prices, waiting room, and bud tenders.  Of course I’m a loyal customer.  I noticed they increased the amount a tourist is allowed to purchase.  By a lot.  We can get a whole um… I’m not sure.  I do remember it was an eighth last time I visited.  Denver is so awesome.  I love it almost as much as Sioux Falls, and I grew up there.  It’s just a fun place to be.  My blood pressure went down as soon as we landed.

They have talking trains in the airport.  Plus, moving sidewalks, and more stores and restaurants than our mall.  The airport architecture is brilliant, too.  The floating sails keep it in perpetual motion on the wind, even though it’s just an illusion.  So perfect for an airport.  I got dropped off at my hotel a bit ago, and have spent the entire time calling the front desk because the wifi wasn’t working.  It took 11 rings for them to pick up at the front desk.  That was strike one.

I had to call 3 times.  The second time, 2 rings.  Huge improvement.  Reduced to .5 strike.  Then I saw a sign that alluded to the existence of an iron.  I looked around, but no iron.  Oops.  Not a strike, because I don’t need it.  The picture on the TV is not HD, although the TV is.  480P can never again be considered worthy of charging money.  720P is the minimum resolution for a hotel of this level.  Strike 1.5.

I love the decor.  The room is small, but the floor plan is so good it doesn’t matter.  The fridge was cold.  Yay.  The room was 72 degrees F.  Perfect.  Lots of outlets for my gadgets.  Check.  Cleanliness…  Houston, we have a white liquid stain on the wall, dangerously close to the desk chair.  Then I noticed the trash can directly below the stain.  Probably milk.  Barfarama averted.  Strike 2.

There are no instructions for things like, aloha desk means front desk on the phone.  No phone book or Gideon’s Bible.  “No problem there”, said the tree.  I found the iron and a full size ironing board inside the headboard, facing the wall.  I was looking for instructions.  It actually looks cool, and is a smart use of space.  Still doesn’t matter to me, as I would rather have instructions.  I don’t know when breakfast is served, and it’s not complimentary.  The elevators are almost hospital grade.  Nice.

Finally, I have to say it’s quieter than my usual hotel, Woolley’s Classic Suites, which had no more rooms when I booked this trip.  They have a beautiful, loud waterfall in the center, open to all levels.  Here, at Aloft, the fridge is not inside a wooden cabinet, so it’s louder than necessary.  Annoying, but I’ll live.  But the room smells like smoke, even though it’s a smoke free facility.  There’s a sign in the hall that says, “No butts about it.  Aloft is smoke free.”  I beg to differ.

That was strike three.  I won’t stay here again, or recommend it.  The worst thing is that I can see Woolley’s from my porch.  Kidding.  From my window.  It’s where I’d rather be.  Far less modern and hip, but Aloft blew it.  If I ran this hotel, there would be instructions written in a humorous way, letting guests know where everything is located, how to reach the front desk, when breakfast is served, and the like.  There would be 1080P resolution on well calibrated HDTVs.  Hip and modern can’t get away with old tech.  It’s an oxymoron.

When I complained about no wifi, he first offered to allow me to come down to the front desk to use it there because, “we have problems with it reaching the upper levels.”  I’m on the second floor.  Oh, really.  So it’s been a known issue long enough for you to rattle that off unbidden.  I see.  I didn’t say that, of course.  I thought of it later.  I tried to make my voice sound annoyed, but I don’t think I pulled it off, as evidenced by his response.  Then the wifi worked.  It’s an unsecured network.  Of course.

If I ran it, this would be rectified immediately.  They make us check a usage agreement to log in, and they time it, so I can’t delete that cookie without repeating this nightmare.  So yeah… More like Astonishingly Confusing, But Cool Looking.  Pathetic.  I hate it when a business has a great idea but don’t  make it a reality, and still have the audacity to run with the half assed, or committee approved version.  There’s no way the minds that created this building were in on the epic fails described above.  Creative people don’t settle for mediocre easily.  They know the cost to their soul is too high.

Fortunately, I’m leaving tomorrow.  My nose and eyes are burning, and I can feel a sinus headache coming on.  I’m off to read.

 

Not that there’s anything wrong with it!

Today seemed to fly by.  I’m flying to Denver tomorrow for an interview and to sign some paperwork.  My therapist gave me a quick pep talk in email, reminding me that I’ll do fine.  She’s really good about that.  I did have a lot of anxiety earlier, and came close to a panic attack, but didn’t have one.  I did the grounding and breathing exercises she taught me and warded it off.  Now I’m merely a tiny bit nervous.  I think that’s acceptable.  I’ll be back Saturday night or Sunday morning, so it’ll be a cinch.  I won’t even have time to miss my cat.  Much.

I think I got anxious because I was going to try and pack tonight.  I decided instead to make a packing list tonight, and pack tomorrow.  I’m not nervous for the interview because I’ve had lots of training for that.  I’m WYSIWYG, (what you see is what you get).  I’m not self conscious, even though I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to figure out how to change that.  I’m starting to think it’s not something you can acquire through sheer effort.  I just don’t know how to divide my attention into so many facets in real time.  But I can roll my tongue, so I guess it’s fair.

It’s getting ready to storm.  I just went and looked on my balcony, and there’s lots of lightning everywhere I can see, but not directly above yet.  My cat lets me know in advance because she won’t leave the kitchen when it’s storming or about to start.  I tried to pick her up and move her to my bedroom once.  I have a scar on my arm to remind me never to do that again.  She clawed me hard enough to draw blood, then scolded me.  It was hilarious, but I got the message.  I figure it’s the most use my kitchen gets, so there’s that.  I’m off to read.

 

So that’s one tuck, and one no tuck.

I’m getting excited about moving, again.  One thing that I won’t miss about South Dakota is the humidity.  There’s a hay field adjacent to my apartment complex.  When the hay is plowed, baled, and taken away, there is a noticeable drop in humidity, just from that.  If I were surrounded by corn fields, I would never go outside.  Corn is the worst at holding humidity at ground level.  Not to mention the horror movie references to add a creepiness factor.  In Denver, humidity isn’t an issue.  I suppose it’s due to the high altitude.  I’m also taking note of things I’m missing by not being there.  My birthday is also a holiday called, Juneteenth.  It represents Black Independence Day.  It’s celebrated in Denver every year.

I’m almost structuring my transition as if I was in the military and preparing to PCS (permanent change of station).  I’ve created an outline that I’ll add to as things occur to me.  Things like submitting an address change with the post office.  Once I have a pretty good outline, I’ll make some checklists to work through as the time to move gets closer.  I figure if I allow myself to obsess about preparation, I’ll be too busy to get anxious about moving.  And sooner than I’ll realize, it’ll be time to go.  I’m going to hire a company that cleans apartments between tenants to clean my unit after I move everything out.  I’ve always gotten my deposit back, and this company guarantees it.  Otherwise, it would take me a few days to properly clean it.  I’m a slow cleaner because I get distracted so easily.

I like cleaning, but then I like pretty much all mind-numbing, repetitive motion.  Especially if it serves a purpose.  I sorted through a lot of things I want to give away tonight.  It’ll be so nice to own far less when I move.  I like photos of things more than the actual things quite often.  Unless it’s a tool of some sort, like my violin, or computers.  I want to do a hall wall that’s floor to ceiling photos of stuff I like but don’t want the burden of owning.  That’ll be fun.  I’m off to read.