The Autistic Me

We are in the process of moving, which is overwhelming for most people. In my case, it's physically and emotionally debilitating this week. I am exhausted just thinking about all the productivity lost during the last year... and now I will lose at least another year. Worse, I know this move is temporary because I would never settle here — meaning I'll lose productive time again in a few short years. When we moved from California to Minnesota, I had carefully arranged a dozen or so projects I wanted to complete in the coming months. Those projects are still in boxes and in disarray. Most were plays and short stories. There are a few computer projects, and several Web site updates. These are all sitting in boxes, frustrating me. I need a better system. I have a portable file box labeled "Current Project" but not every current project is in the box. It's maddening. I need order! Time lost to panic, to organizing, and to yet more panic is time lost forever

"Did you know Bill Gates and Tim Burton are probably on the spectrum?" Can we please stop such nonsense? I wouldn't want anyone to claim to know my various mental and physical conditions, much less publicize such assumptions. We have no right to try to associate someone else with an advocacy position, as if having some celebrity with a medical condition is essential to "the cause" (meaning fundraising, usually). The more people try to associate famous people with autism, ADHD, seizure disorders, and a host of other conditions, the more I hope I'm just a intellectual oddity with some creativity -- no disorders, injuries, or special conditions involved. I think attempts to find indicators for various conditions is getting so ridiculous that every geek, techie, goth, cyberpunk, loner, poet will be classified as disabled. Not that I'm currently all of the preceding, but the checklists presented for "the spectrum" is getting absurd. Simpli

Because I tend to observe the negatives around me, people assume I am a negative person. It probably doesn't help that I don't speak about the positives nearly often enough. I sometimes assume the good things are obvious to everyone and don't need to be said. Who needs me to say that life is okay, for the most part? If you need to reminded that you woke up and were still alive, that strikes me as kind of odd. I admit, there are some things that really bother me. I hate most vibration, strong smells, and itchy clothing. I dislike "ignorance by choice" and any form of feigned stupidity. Yes, I'm hard to comprehend and can seem unhappy when I'm not, but noticing things that should be changed doesn't mean I overlook how many things are good. Overall, though, I like a lot more things than I dislike. Who doesn't like chocolate? Flowers? Oceans, rivers, and streams? Cool mornings? Most of all, how could someone not love cute furry pets? Oh, and b

I hate road noise. I hate it a lot. It hurts my ears, vibrates my entire body, and makes me want to hide in a cave. I could hear the traffic noise in our previous apartment. I'd do what I could to close windows or hide in my bedroom. A busy road is a nightmare, worse than having a neighbor's radio stuck on the all polka station — at full volume. So, what happens when you have a flat tire on a city highway? You're stuck doing your best to change tires feet from traffic. The noise is louder, the smells worse, and the vibrations dig deeper into your core. Ribs, teeth, and even fingernails seem to shake. At least the tire was changed quickly enough. But it definitely ruined my ability to think or work for a few hours.