I’m going to sound alien again. Fair warning. I’ve done some really stupid stuff on this blog. said nasty things, wrote passing fixations down and acted like they were more important than anything. Allowed my emotions to get the better of me and rant and rave and whatnot.
And I suppose I should be sorry. And I am. The truth is I didn’t really mean those things the way I said them. I mean, Some things really make me angry. One of the main culprits right now is stupid people going around saying they are from other planets while they seem perfectly well-adjusted to the toxic nonsense and degeneracy that is so rampant at this particular moment in time! (Also, How Dare I act alien? That’s just not on. I should be normal while also being crystal space jesus.)
Do any of you have any idea how bad things have gotten? The food is poison. the water is poison. People are toxic. Radio waves are giving people cancer left and right. medicine does more harm than good. Oh, and I’m just getting started. It would be nice to be able to have a bath without feeling like you were poisoned afterwards. Because I was. And clothes need washing, nails grow long, your scalp gets horrible because you don’t know how to take care of it properly… Oh, and lawns should curl up and die. They just don’t stay mowed.
Oh, Living on earth is no fun at all. I suppose I feel trapped in time. A strange construct I will never be able to understand or engage with properly. Sometimes I post something half-finished and poorly edited. Ever wonder why? Chances are if I save it that I will never go back to it. You should see all the lost drafts that never see the light of day. And all the mess I’ve left behind me on my blog? I should edit my older posts or delete them. But I can’t. It is beyond me. At the minute I’m trying to get a pension for my disabilities. I have no idea how it is going to go. already tried once. got rejected. which is funny because in order to prove I can’t interact I have to go and talk to lots of people in unfamiliar enviroments in the presence of crowds. Here is the funny thing: I start off not coping. I get help. I start functioning properly and achieving things. and people point and say: Oh, look at that! they are doing so well. why do they need assistance?
And then they pull the rug from under me. Oh, what was that? I needed that? no. Don’t be silly! growing up I’ve just been doing that round and round in circles. Right now I have no assistance whatsoever. And what has been going on for me lately is almost comical really.
“Oh, go and look for 10 jobs every fortnight. or you don’t get any money.” (brilliant Australia. you’ve done it again! “work for the doll” indeed…)
Well For those of you familiar with my kind of condition are probably aware of what comes next. thankfully I got a lovely lady who understood and helped me out. But I shudder to think of what could have been.
Ever heard of something called sequencing and rote learning and executive functioning? Well, I’m terrrible at both of them. and without doing things by rote: aka having someone go through them with me until I memorise the sequence I can’t do them. I’m lost. It is like pressing at the glass unable to touch anything. It is why I failed school. (along with my refusal do do those stupid projects when I had already learned the stupid thing. Can’t you just ask me?) And nobody gets it.
And that is the other thing that pisses me off to no end. I’m apparently not supposed to understand metaphors. oh, is that right? Maybe male aspies don’t, but I’m starting to understand now that I am female and I act as such.
One of my favorite things to do when I’m upset is to disappear, go mute, and just vegetate. I hate that people assume my mind is cold and full of numbers and calculations and whatnot when in fact nothing could be further from the truth. Do you want to know how the female autistic thinks? Visually and with metaphors and essentially holographically and through memory.
Take another annoying example. I know my way around the town I live like it is the back of my hand. But can I give directions or explain to someone else how to get somewhere? Ha! no. I think of a place and see it in my mind. I see pictures and I just Know. I don’t know the street names.
I call it thinking holographically. That seems to be the most apporpriate way of putting it. And When I am sad, sometimes I start sounding very strange. (This is the result of getting drenched on the way to an apointment) have a gander:
I am Cold. I welcome the rain. I am old. I welcome the pain. I am asked: Do I sleep? When Do I weep? Do the lies seep into the dream? I am bold, I walk heedless of the pain. Nothing to break, nothing to lose. Both Profound and childish. I walk in the dream. I see the shadows lurking. What lies ahead for me? Who am I? What does it mean? Who am I? who is anyone? What is I?
Confused yet? I certainly won’t even try and explain it. But I know what I mean. But I also don’t. It is the language of the heart, not the mind. And my mind is in fragments. I argue with myself. I talk to myself loudly I “stim” (the favorite among our family seems to be leg shaking.) But I honestly like running my hands through smooth and soft things. like satin and whatnot. I can’t stand rough textures. Horrible. I thought I left it all behind for a little while. Oh, what a silly notion that was. I’m as strange as I ever was.
Not that There is anything wrong with that. one day grass. one day. I will mow you and you won’t grow back when I’m not looking. sneaky little bastard.