If I could, I would write full-time. That is what I want, and what I have dreamed of since first grade. To be a professional writer. Teaching seemed like a good way to support writing. But, no luck with that approach. Under-employed or unemployed, whatever I am about to be is everything I've hated about life since I left my undergraduate college in early 1991. Each time I dream of a stable, "normal" future, one with a career that allows for some order in life, the job goes sideways and my plans disintegrate. Attempts to create my own career have ended badly, too, for various reasons. No excuses: I simply am not good at the soft skills needed for success. I've worked on those skills, but they never develop. I am lousy at understanding people, and I lack the superior tech skills or proper degree to overcome that shortcoming. I can program, manage databases, configure Web servers, but I'm not the next app wizard. I never mastered OS X / iOS programming...
At birth, doctors suggested I would be mentally disabled, in addition to the physical injuries I suffered. I have never been described as normal. “High-functioning autism” (HFA) is just another way to describe a few aspects of “me.” The autistic me is the creative me, the curious me, the complete me.