Being aspie or whatever the heck is wrong with me is like living life behind a pane of glass. I talk to people, they talk to me, but most of the time, I don't think that what I say really gets through to them, and their words frequently lack depth to me, so perhaps it's the same for me. I would hope that the world isn't actually as shallow as it appears to me, but I have no real basis for that kind of optimism. People touch me, most of the time it feels invasive. I touch them, most of the time I'd rather not touch them, or touching them does nothing for me. Hugs are particularly awkward that way. Kissing...ugh....I don't want to talk about kissing. I think one of my most prevalent erotic fantasies is to kiss someone and really enjoy it, for it to having meaning and color. I would like to be close to another person, but it's like pressing my face to the pane of glass with them on the other side.

I don't know. I suppose I'm just bored and frustrated. This town is so boring. And I so tired of feeling isolated from people when they're all around me.

Someday, I'd like to see Elton John in concert. I'd like to thank him for his music, for the consolation it's given me, for all the times when I wanted to off myself and his music helped pull me through. I don't know exactly why his music has this quality for me, but the best way I can express it is this: he vocalizes pain so well, he makes it liquid and beautiful, and having done so, he makes it also seem bearable. It's like having a sympathetic friend who's there with no questions asked, just a CD or a cassette slipped into the player, who knows how badly life can suck and understands what it's like to be an outcast (albeit for different reasons, but I have a soft spot for outcasts in general).

Lawns

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I've ranted before about the senselessness of planting, watering, fertilizing and harvesting a crop which cannot be eaten or used for anything, and which doesn't even provide much enjoyment- just work and a way to use up perfectly nice land and soil. I suppose I shouldn't complain, because mowing lawns is now my livelihood. However, I never realized how frightfully extravagant grass is until now. One yard I care for is pretty big...maybe an acre all told. There are trees and shrubs and flowerbeds and spigots that have to be maneuvered around. With a riding lawnmower, mowing the whole lawn takes me about 2 hours, maybe 3 (I like to do a nice job, and as I said, there is a lot of maneuvering). If it were a flat, square plot with no obstacles, of course it could be done in half an hour, probably. Weedwhacking the areas the mower can't get to takes another 2-3 hours at least, but this only has to be done once for every 3 times the lawn is mown (thank goodness!). I hate the weedwhacking because it endangers my eyes with flying objects (yes, I do wear eye protection). That lawn has to be mowed at least once a week! If it gets longer, then the walk behind mower is pulled out, because it has a bag and the riding mower doesn't. The grass clippings would kill the lawn (which doesn't sound like a half bad idea to me). Mowing this lawn manually takes me a very long time, especially since it requires constantly emptying the bag.

So- at about $40 a week, this is $160 a month, a pretty hefty price to pay for a patch of green lawn, in my opinion. For a summers worth of lawn mowing, you could buy rhododendrons and hydrangeas and fruit trees and daylilies and all manner of wonderful things, plus bark mulch and landscape cloth so they wouldn't need much weeding and grass wouldn't grow. After a few summers like that, you could have quite the showcase, while your neighbors would continue to have the same, ordinary, boring, and ex$pen$ive lawn that everyone else has. I haven't figured in the costs of planting the lawn of herbicies or fertilizer, either...

The yard could have a monoculture of grass that is useful mainly for earthworms and small insects (which are fastidiously sprayed against)and only seasonally attractive, or it could have a variety of plants to provide interest throughout the year as well as providing food and shelter and habitat for birds, butterflies, wildlife, and of course, humans.

I don't understand it.

All right, I'll say it. I don't think I've been fair to the manager, the one that I thought hated me. I think what it might be is that I've got a somewhat abrasive, forthright personality, and a near inability to conceal conflicts or problems, whereas the last thing he wanted to hear about was more problems. The way I looked at it was this: how can the problem be resolved if it's never addressed or brought into the light? And I still feel that way, actually. I think at least 90% of the problems in that deli could have been solved quickly by simply being discussed openly. Sweeping shit under the rug doesn't hide the smell.

It has also come to my attention that he didn't lie to me, the new cashier was already hired when I'd applied.

Water under the bridge, but I wanted to fix what I'd said before, because teh more I looked at it, the more I realized I hadn't been quite fair.

I'm still a little ticked that they won't hire me back, though. A mere glance at the deli is all it takes to confirm that they need either me or someone who will actually care about the place. On the other hand, maybe, for those three years, I wore myself out, imagining that everything had to be stocked and fresh and pretty and all that jazz, getting stressed and cranky all that time for nothing, because they don't really seem to care. The fourth of July is coming, Timber days is coming....it's going to get really danged interesting there, and I'll be standing back with a raised eyebrow smirking inwardly and wondering why I got so freaked out once upon a time.

The gardening and yard work is going really well, paying about the same as what I got at a regular job, but with fewer hours, I get to call the shots, I get to be 100% honest and ethical, when I feel sick or really crappy, I can go home, if a customer is insufferably rude or a job is too hard, I have the choice not to do it.....in a lot of ways, it's pretty ideal. Besides, I get plenty of solitude and get to work with plants all day long. People give me cuttings and divisions of their plants....I can see that I'll quickly run out of space to plant them in.

I've decided a few other things, too. I want to get a dog, and to hell with the bulldog and the "friend" that sold my goats. If I can, I'm getting a "bully" whippet instead. These dogs are being destroyed simply because they can't run. They're nice dogs, just...genetically different. I sympathize with that, so I'm going to do my darnedest to rescue one. Also, it's a matter of time before I run out of space to plant things here. I can still fit in another peach or pear tree if I esplaier them against the house, and hazelnuts, if I plant them along the boundary between us and the neighbors. There is room to expand the strawberry bed, and maybe room for several of many rubrifolia rose seedlings. Two of the apple trees died, so I'll be replacing them. However, what it comes down to is this: I'm going to have to prioritize, and to focus on the plants that I really want. And one of the things I really want more of is daylilies. Tulips and daffodils are nice, and of course I'll still be placing an order to McClure and Zimmerman (or Brent and Becky's bulbs, or both), but it looks like the order to Oakes daylilies will be first. Also, because teh space is so short and food crops are a priority, but I haven't the willpower to eschew flowering plants, I'm going to combine my perennial flowers and herbs with vegetable beds, as well as making the most of the space under and around the trees. NO LAWN. (saving rants about lawns for another day!)

::Sigh:: Enough of the pity parties. Crying over it isn't going to get me anywhere.

Besides, working for myself is going OK. I have a voc rehab appt tomorrow. I want to see if I can get into college. The notion of becoming a botanist/horticulturist is more appealing all the time, now that the mystique of working in a hospital has been breached somewhat.

Plants: I just got "curly Wurly" a corkscrew rush. If you like cool, strange plants, this is an inexpensive one and well worth trying. Also, Alcea Nigra (black hollyhock). The vegetable garden: eggplants, more tomatoes (heirloom varieties), peppers, romanesco broccoli/cauliflower, golden beets, red russian kale, white russian kale, yellow crookneck squash, rogue vif d'etampes pumpkin, a winter squash of my own breeding, zucchini, and...I don't know..other stuff, heh. I just realized that my bean seeds (black valentine) got wet and I need to hurry and plant them.

In bloom: Salvia (both the culinary type and a red ornamental type), allium rosacae, geranium (Bowles Blue is actually purple, people), dicentra spectabilis, centaurea, aquilegia, bellis, many irises, oxeye daisies, hydrangea, and a single hellebore. Indoors, the phaleonopsis orchid has two ethereal white blooms- stunning.

I think the garden and gardening work for other people is what keeps me alive and sane these days.

I am still blue (heartbroken) over the goats. Losing Reflex would have been bad enough, but for almost the entire herd to be gone....and for meat....it leaves me almost mute with pain. Twelve years of life, love, passion, and hard work down the drain.

And here I am planting and landscaping this place like an idiot. I haven't bought it yet. What asurance do I have that I'll actually be able to buy it? I still don't have a job yet...or not a steady one. I've been filling in here and there with odd jobs, which is better than nothing. Nothing seems worthwhile anymore. I'm tired of trying to get people to like me, tired of getting burned. There's no purpose to life except for the children.

As for me, I'm a failure. All the things I wanted to do in life or to get out of it have miscarried: art, love, animals, being a doctor, being anything at all, staying married, living out in the country......the only thing that hasn't completely failed is the kids.

I hate it that the fucking developers, realtors, and rich people from other places have driven the prices up so high. I'm boxed into living in town, surrounded by the place I love which I can't own a part of, because of greed. I saw an ad today, 20 acres with a shop and utilities for $250 K!!! There is not even a house on it, and the ad reads: "Buy 20 acres for the price of ten!". WTF??!!

There doesn't seem to be a way out.

So I'm thinking about possibly just going to work for myself, doing yard work, gardening, minor landscaping, errands and such. I haven't had any bites yet on the several job applications I've distributed, and I *love* working outside, doing yard work. Hey, it's worth a try- it's not like I'm working anywhere else.

Speaking of gardens, a lot of stuff is in bloom now: aquilegia (note- plant more of these from seed, they're very reliable and worthwhile), dicentra (also really nice), violas galore, a single white narcissus (the others have finished already, along with all the tulips), a hellebore, and most excitingly, a kniphofia. This last is also known as "red hot poker plant". I've wanted one for a while because it's both freaky and sexy. The cherry, pear, plum, and apple trees are all blooming or have finished, and I'm worried about them, because I've seen very few bees or other pollinators this year, only the occasional wasps and a lone hummingbird. I've planted food crops as well: 'Chioggia' beets, broccoli (sorry, just the store brand), various tomatoes, red and yellow onions, two concord grape vines, rhubarb, scotch green curled kale....and I think that's all.

I got to go see the goats (the four that are left) tonight and it put me in a better mood. They're not all gone, at least, even if none of the ones that are there were my favorites, they're something, and being with them makes me feel sane again.

Going to bloom soon: sage(the culinary sort), eremurus, roses, peonies, stachys, and alliums (the ornamental sort). After awhile the daylilies should be coming into play along with the irises. I also have a phaleonopsis orchid that I'm quite attached to. I bought it for myself almost two years ago for my birthday, and after it's first round of blooming, I somehow managed to almost kill it and just barely kept it alive for some time. Now it's recovered and is about to bloom. :-) I don't know why orchids seem so precious....

Wow, it's about time the thing started working again. In case you're wondering, what finally did it was changing the browser setting to "identify as Internet Explorer" (I use Opera).

Anyway, at this point, my life sucks so badly that I'm sort of wishign soemone would just kill me off and be done with it. I can't bear having little bits of me cut away one at a time. Since I posted last, the following have occurred:

--> The woman that I thought was my best friend basically quit communicating with me. I tried to call her and her answering machine said she wasn't taking any calls. She had told me to call her that day, so I can only conclude that she was avoiding me and putting me off. She does not consider me a close friend as I do her. Once more, I am a mere aquaintance. I left a few messages on her answering machine, but she never called back, so I quit trying. Screw it. I'm coming to the slow and very painful realization that I don't actually have any female friends at all, and I don't think I have any male friends that aren't attracted to me. In other words, no friends...not really...everyone's just an aquaintance. The world is so formally and coldly polite.

--> Another 'friend' had boarded all of my goats for me. I had previously arranged to sell her several other goats, and she already had them and their papers, but she hadn't paid me for them. Anyway, so she agreed to board my goats with the stipulation that any offspring born would be hers. This was fine by me, because I didn't have a place to put any of the goats that I already had a loved, let alone new ones. Everything seemed fine. I went out there and trimmed all their feet, helped her out with them, and it all seemed OK. Then one day I came home to a letter on my door, which said that I had given her all the goats, and why was I saying she was boarding them out, she was going to sue me, and she had already sold a few of them, including my buck, Reflex. Now, if there was one goat that I loved above all the rest, it was Reflex. I raised him from a 3 day old kid, he was a tiny quadruplet when I got him so he lived in the house for a while...I bottle fed him...he grew up to a huge mature buck, but he was always my baby. I loved that buck just like other people do their dogs or cats or horses. He was always sweet and gentle with me... Anyway, she said he was mean to her and she sold him at the livestock auction right before Cinco De Mayo- in other words, he was probably bought up for meat and his bones are in a barbecue pit somewhere. She went on to say that she was about to sell the others, too, all of them, if I didn't find some way to get rid of them all NOW. I managed to rescue the children's three goats....how could I tell them their pets had been sold for meat? I am still devastated over Reflex and the others. My beautiful black beauties, that I spent so time time and work breeding...lost, dead...I failed them, and they were always there for me when I needed them. I don't know how she could do this to me without even warning me first or giving me half a chance. Why did she agree to board them if she couldn't cope with it, she sounded really optimistic about it when I took them there. The entire thing just makes me miserable.

She must have felt a little guilty, because she said that she would "make me a deal" on a bulldog puppy (she breeds bulldogs) with the money from the sale of the goats. But I just saw her today, and sure enough, most of the does went to the auction, except for one taht she kept for herself, and no word at all of the puppy. I felt too broken to even ask...screw it.....

-->Two days after I found our Reflex had been sold for meat, I was getting ready for work when my boss called me. Stupid me, I thought mayeb there was a crisis of some kidn and she need me to come in early or something (which I would have been willing to do). Nah...she was calling to tell me not to come in at all. She said I wasn't learning quickly enough and the other workers felt like they were running behind all the time and having to pick up my slack. I'd been trying to tell her that I was having trouble with the training for weeks...people kept telling me contradictory stuff. Or otherwise I'd be in the middle of doing something and another worker ("M" was especially bad about this) would run over frantically and stop me and tell me that I had to hurry and do something else NOW. I'd try to tell her that my scheduled chore list said that I was supposed be doing what I was already doing at this time, but by that time, she was gone, or she would just ignore me. She would do this sort of t hing to me several time in the course of a day. If I had a question, she wouldn't even listen, just talked over me and bossed me around without answering what I asked. I tried to tell my boss that I was having a problem, but I got the very distinct feeling that I had better not complain about "M", because if I did, it would be MY problem. Bleah..and I was just starting to feel like I was getting the hang of things, too...it was starting to make sense. Screw it....

-->So I tried to go back to the store (I know, I know....)to see if they'd re-hire me. The manager said that he didn't have any openings right now, but he'd think about it. A day or two later, someone pointed out to me that the gal who worked in the meat department had left, and maybe they could use me there, so I asked. "Nope, don't need you, got it covered." The deli is a disaster. I haven't seen it this dysfunctional in a very long time. Nope, they still don't need me. Went in two days ago, and they had a brand new cashier- the position I applied for and for which he said he didn't have any openings. Screw it....

The only good things are that the main boss saw to it that I finally got my reference (thank you!). I don't think that manager (the same one who lied to me about not having any openings) would ever have given it to me otherwise. The man just does not like me, and I'm not sure why, except that I have an unbiblically strong personality for a woman. There are other strong women in that store, but maybe I'm too honest and too blunt. Also, I applied for unemployment, and maybe, just maybe, I'll get it. I've applied for a few other jobs and haven't gotten any bites yet. The truth of it is that I feel so battered by the events of the past month that I hardly care what happens to me anymore.

I mean, other than homelessness or something happening to one of the kids, what else is there to lose? Oh, please don't let anything happen to the kids....

Work Dammit!!!!!!

Recognition

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It's what distinguishes between someone familar and a potential threat. I don't know about neurotypicals, but I'm guessing that they're similar in this regard. People are generally treated with coolness and mistrust unless I know them already or some kind of a bond is forged, usually based on some commonality. Our kids play together, or we share similar interests or ideals, or we have a dear friend in common, etc. If we don't know a person and there are no obvious signs or reasons why we might want to know them, we tend to be curt and briefly polite, the bare minimum necessary before moving on to our tasks of the day.

We establish and reinforce recognition of familiar people by social cues such as eye contact, small cues such as a nod of the head or a wink, a wave, or a verbal greeting. Then the recognition might be further reinforced (and usually is) by social niceties and ritual, such as "Hello, how are you doing?" and small talk. A social bond is reaffirmed and strengthened with each such interaction, provided of course that it is a positive experience for both parties.

-----OK, here is the problem-----

Some of us, specifically people on the autism spectrum, often don't recognize people by sight part or most of the time. It's called prosopagnosia. Recognition of people is based on other cues such as the surrounding environment (you know that it is the same girl who always makes your espressos, because you and she are in the same setting every morning), clothing (especially uniforms), voice, scent, hair color and style, body size and shape, or a combination of such factors. The face may be recognized in a secondary way, as an assist, but not the primary means of identification. What this means is that if I see a co-worker in an unfamiliar setting, say, a large store 50 miles away from here, I probably will not realize it is them. Most people treat those whom they do not recognize as potential enemies/threats, or as non-interesting. If a person I know goes on a major diet or changes their hair style or color drastically, the same thing can happen, even in the familiar setting. I do recognize faces to some degree, but I don't think it is very refined. Only the most beloved, utterly fmailiar, or truly fear-inspiring faces seem to imprint strongly on my brain. I can draw well, but if you were to ask me to draw a face of someone I love, I'd have trouble remembering what their face looked like. I would get the clothing, body posture, hair, facial hair, and basic details down, but fine details (shape and size of nose, shape and set of eyes, mouth, etc) would be absent or inaccurate.

In other words, people with prosopagnosia are very likely to either be friendly to everyone they see, or to treat everyone in a distant, hands off manner unless the other party initiates the recognition process (and then you feel pretty foolish and embarrassed). Recognition and the social bonds reinforced by it are likely to be impaired for people such as myself.

Blooming: Tulip Turkestanica, native wild Violas, and the "assorted" Narcissus mix from Walmart. "Assorted mix" my ass....the package showed all sorts of different types of daffodils, and I'm not complaining too much, but they're all (so far, anyway) your basic golden trumpets. Ah well...at least they actually bloomed. I think I'm going to discontinue buying those plastic bags of peta moss with a bulb or two in them. It seems that whatever garden supply vendor I get them from, they don't usually grow at all. I'd rather pay more and get soemthign reliable and true to name.

My life is absolutely meaningless. I'm a failure in every sense of the word. Why am I even here? I mean, since I was in grade school, I've been trying to convince myself that my life won't always be this sucky, that eventually, it'll get better....and folks, it just isn't happening. In fact, it could just be my perspective, but from here, it seems to be going downhill at a fairly steady rate.

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I wish that I were like you people. I wish that my heart were colder and less attached, that I could forget people at the drop of a hat, that I could crush others beneath my feet like ants and not feel bad about it, only because they wer ein my way and it feels good. No....no. I don't want to be like that. I like ants.

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The world is full of plastic people, they're/you're like a bunch of dumb Barbie and Ken dolls, distinguished primarily by clothing and accessories. Collect them all!

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This world is just crammed full of aquaintances pretending to be friends, mocking me with their superficial representations of caring, of sentiment that doesn't exist. Platitudes, drivel, politeness. God, how I hate phony people.

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Lastly, I've been thinking about this today: I don't know what it's like in other countries, but it seems to me that what I'll be describing (attempting to, anyway), could be an American phenomenon. There is a tendency to heroize people who defy the odds, and the tougher the odds are against them, the greater the admiration, if they succedd. This is a country built from people who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, and it's what we expect. America's built on the premise that class distinctions, limitations of all sorts, don't apply here, that these are rules meant to be broken.

Conversely, people (conservatives, actually) tend to despise and revile and even seek to punish those who, for whatever reason, can't beat the odds. Born without arms and legs? You'll be referred to a Reader's Digest article about some dude born limbless from birth who refuses to use a wheelchair and competes in the Olympics (the regular ones, not Special Olympics). You're on disability? What, you can't wiggle your body into a chair and conduct business over a speaker phone? Earn your keep, loser!!! It doesn't really matter whether the reason you're behind is physical, developmental, financial, or if you were raised by drug addicted parents on the wrong side of the tracks. Someone, somewhere has succeeded from similar circumstances, and so you're expected to as well. It also isn't enough to do better than you were before, you have to do as well or better than other successful people.

Think I'm exaggerating? Go ahead and troll some forum with a lot of republicans or anti-government sorts. Ask them how in the hell they expect disabled or disadvantaged people to survive without Social Security or various programs that presently sustain them. Get back to me please, and compare.

I'm scared. I was supposed to amount to something and I haven't. I don't want to spend my whole life doing things that I'm not naturally suited to, forcing myself to strain to adapt to their world....

And I can hear you, normals, out there saying that I can't expect the world to accomodate me teh way I am, that I'll have to conform, that everyone else has to bend and adjust to fit in, so what makes me think I'm any different? The thing is, I don't think you understand what that entails, the extent of what you're asking. It's akin to expecting a man to adopt the female role for 8.5 hours a day, to such an extreme degree, that he doesn't betray his masculine gender at all during that time. Would you ask any man to do that for 42.5 hours per week until he was in his 60s? (although at this rate, I'll probably die before I hit retirement age- they keep bumping it up). Most guys would get bruned out pretty quickly under those conditions, especially if 99% of available jobs demanded the exact same thing, that he conceal and mask his gender and dress, speak, and behave in every way as though he were perfectly female.

That's what it's like for me. I never asked to be born aspie, but it's a huge strain to try to be normal all of the time. It fucks up all the rest of my life to do so, but I suppose tha I really haven't a choice.

Maybe I'm not really good for anything.

Today was Orientation for the new job (even though I've been working there since the 19th). I had to sit for 8 hours (punctuated, to be fair, with regular breaks and such) in a fairly uncomfortable chair and absorb lots of information (much of which I had already learned, but there was enough new material that I couldn't just safely zone out, either). At first it was OK. But after several hours, the 16 year odl girl across from me began to fidget endlessly with her necklace. The sight of it swinging back and forth disrupted my vision.....I put a sheaf of paper between her necklace and my line of sight, and that helped, but I'm sure it looked strange. Then the lady next to me began to bounce her leg, and it made a sort of impatient sound and well as providing visual distraction. This was worse, because just beyond her was the teacher, and I couldn't easily block the vision of the neighboring gal and still see the teacher or the projector screen. Meanwhile, the seat just seemed to get more and more uncomfortable.

When I finally got home, my muscles were all tense and pinchy feeling, so I decided to go back to the health club and take a soak in the whirlpool. There will be about an hour of time left before they close once I get there. Soooo......I get to the club, get the locker key, and go to the ladie's locker room. A woman in scrubs is in a stretching position, the one meant to stretch the hip joints (as you might imagine, I am well acquainted with this exercise). I put the stuff I won't need in the locker, and as she coems out of the stretch I ask her if she also works for the hospital, etc. She talks to me, but something about me must be strange, because she eyes me in a.....uneasy but polite fashion and makes her getaway ASAP. I must have done something.....

But, I shrug this off and get into the shower. I already had my swimwear on under my street clothes: a swimsuit and a cute little pair of hawaiian print shorts which are slightly tight. They're made of some kind of water resistant, unstretchy material. I know that I should take the swimwear off when I shower, but the shower curtain isn't wide enough to cover the doorway without leaving a 2-3" gap. I'm scared someone will see my pudgy body. Worse, they might not know I'm in the shower. What if they draw the curtain back entirely before they see I'm there?? So I shower by degrees, which is to say that most of me gets washed, but in segments, before being hastily reclothed again. Upon entering the spa area, I noticed two other women in the pool, and I'm relieved very much when I see that they've left it and are doing a post-soak shower. I push the button to turn on the jets and happily immerse myself in the hot, HOT water. I've been cold for most of the day....oh, it is so nice. I soak in there for a long time and eventually get bored. I experiment with the various jets to try to massage my stiff neck (it can't be doen without submerging my nose, in other words, not really at all). I see that only 15 minutes have elapsed. Huh. I should have exercised a little bit first. I'm so fat, 135# now when I used to be 115#. I think about my friend and how I should coordinate our schedules somehow. I rarely exercise because I'm afraid and painfully self-conscious. What if my clothes are wrong? What kind of clothes do I need? What if I sweat and start to smell? What if I do things wrong or slowly or I look like a dork or a wimp (I am seriously out of shape). Maybe I should get into shape first somewhat and then come here as well. Maybe I should start bicycling again. My own bike is trashed. The front rim is all bent and skewed. If I could get it fixed, I could ride it again. I used to be so buff. I think about when I rode some 14, 15 miles or more a day with the kids in a trailer behind me. The thing is, I just don't have the time for that now. I think for a while about ways I could schedule time for riding my bike and which roads would be good.

I process all this for a while, and then the jets stop of their own accord, and I realize that I need to pee. The restroom is the only real choice, but I'm terrified of running into someone. In the water, under all that foam, it doesn't matter. Out of the water.....I don't want to see anyone, or for anyone to see me. Still, I don't have a choice. I go towards the door timidly. Just as I'm about to open it, a girl enters and pokes her head in. She's very young and pretty and trim, and even more terrifyingly, she looks very reserved and quiet. She sees me, and I retreat into one of the showers, because I don't know what else to do. I stand there in the shower feeling quite foolish. She's gone, and I wonder if the coast is clear, can I go to the bathroom yet. I look through the glass of the door, don't see the girl, so I make a run for the bathroom. Now I have another problem. These cute little shorts are still tight, and now they're wet. They're amazingly hard to peel off. As I'm doing so, I suddenly realize that I'm not just my thoughts and an inner voice speaking its monologue....I have a body, and the body is attached to me. How awkward and unfortunate. Now, I'm still all wet. The toilet....what if I get it wet? (mental picture of some hapless person, like that young girl, sitting down on a soppping wet toilet seat). I spy the toilet seat covers. Yeah, these are especially useful at a time like this, thinks I. My very wet fingers tear the cover at first, but at last I coax it out of the dispenser, mostly intact, and spread it carefully over the seat. Now I can sit down, and I do so. Upon arising, there's a problem. The seat cover has adhered itself to my buns. A panic begins to form as I try to peel it off. It disintegrates into small, wet pieces of paper. What if I have to come out of the restroom covered in bits of white paper stuck to my body? Eeek! This is bad, bad, bad news. I pick at all the paper until it seems that I've divested myself of most of it. The seat is covered in splodges of wet paper, too. Damn. I get some fresh toilet paper and clean off the seat carefully. It's quite a relief when the toilet washes all that hateful paper down its throat. Now: the shorts. I eye them distrustfully. Well, OK, let's give it a go. I put my feet through the holes and maneuver the garment just past my knees. At that point, it begins to stick and roll up...there is just no way in heck that I'll be able to get them back on, but I try anyway. What will I do? Seem here's the thing. Unlike my normal aspie self, I have forced myself to shave under my arms, and the entirety of my legs. But we all have limits, and going around with an itchy, bristly crotch is one of mine. I haven't shaved there, and I don't especially intend to. Without the shorts, though, that hair will show. How will I get out of the bathroom? Someone might see me. I finally settle for holding the damp shorts in front of me, peekign aroudn corners, and, seeing noone, getting back into the pool quickly. I fling the impractical, teenage-girl-intended shorts off into the corner where my towel is, and reflect that the towel will give me a convenient escape route back out of the pool. I can just wrap it around my waist.

More soaking, ahh......Then the young, perfect body girl comes back in. I don't loook at her. She has on a bikini and a perfectly flat stomach. Good thing the jets are on. My body's under the water, this body that I'm tied to. I don't talk to her because frankly, not only do I not know what to say, but for soem reason, I am petrified of this girl. She leaves soon, and I realize what teh problem is: this nice, new job has given me enough days off in a row that I feel like myself again, for the first time in months. I'm not dead inside, I'm still here. But it's a tradeoff, see....because the more I feel like myself, the more my social skills go down the drain. Left to myself, I probably could easily become agoraphobic, and I know this. It's part of why I do work instead of getting on disability. If I work almost every day, like I did at the store, where I rarely got two days off in a row, I both develop and maintain the social skills. But then we see the tradeoff agian, because I become an automaton, I've got no passion, I don't feel like myself, I'm lost, no sense of being centered.

I can have me or I can have the social skills. Having both is just a really fine line.

Well, I still miss working at the store. The new job is OK, and they treat me a whole lot better, but I don't think I'm going to be able to sink my heart into it like I did the store. I'll just be putting my time in and going home. And really, this is the way it shoudl be, I suppose, but it has no passion, no drive, no depth or color. So even though it's challenging and fairly active, I'll be bored to some degree, as I always am in any facet of life that lacks color. If they wanted me back at the store, I know inside that I'd go back at the drop of a hat...but I think that's unlikely to occur. They didn't miss me, (and at times, I can see why) and I don't think they'll be longing for my return either (heh).

(if my typing is messed up, it's because I'm typing without glasses)

So, since the work lacks passion, I'm back to getting obsessed with plants again. Today I planted:

• 1Dicentra Spectabilis
• 2 Astibles
• 1 Sempervivium
• and 6 sweet woodruff (too lazy to look up the proper name

I still have rhubarb, gladioli, and strawberry plants left to take of ASAP, and it's high time to start planting starts of tomatoes. Oh! and onion sets. I think I bought about 200 of them, and have no space at all prepared for them yet (not too bright, huh?).

Perhaps what I'd really like is to pursue a degree in botany or horticulture. Plants are almost as calming as goats, but unlike goats, you can make a decent living from a botanty/horticultural related field.

I planted 4 apple trees (malus)for the espalier tunnel/arch, and while I was purchasing them, some hippie/mountain woman type of female shopper walked up and started in commenting about my apple trees. I told her what I was doing with them, and she took a step back and said rather critically, "Oh, well you don't care about the apples, then." I replied that the trees would fruit just fine, in fact, remarkably well for the space used and size of the trees. Then she started telling me, very authoritatively, about pollinaters, that I shoudl make sure my apples woudl pollinate one another or I would not get any fruit. Hello, bitch, but do I look like I was born yesterday? How often does a total newbie undertake making an espaliered arch of trees?? And who in the hell do you think you are? I told her that the four I had shoudl be sufficient, but they were merely the beginnimg of the project, which will incorporate 8-12 trees total. (more superflous preaching about pollinaters) Finally I just told her, rather shortly, "Besides, I live in town. There are lots of apple trees there, and I'm sure there will be plenty of pollinaters even if I didn't have any. She looked doubtful and wished me good luck and walked away. ::irk!!!::

Wait:

em·pa·thy (?m'p?-th?)
1:Identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings, and motives.
2:The attribution of one's own feelings to an object.

sym·pa·thy (s?m'p?-th?)

1. a: relationship or an affinity between people or things in which whatever affects one correspondingly affects the other.

b:Mutual understanding or affection arising from this relationship or affinity.

2. a:The act or power of sharing the feelings of another.

b:feeling or an expression of pity or sorrow for the distress of another; compassion or commiseration. Often used in the plural.

3.Harmonious agreement; accord: He is in sympathy with their beliefs.

4.A feeling of loyalty; allegiance. Often used in the plural: His sympathies lie with his family.

5.Physiology. A relation between parts or organs by which a disease or disorder in one induces an effect in the other.
=======================================================

Sympathy is what I feel at times, not empathy. The two seem like almost the same thing, but they're not.

Nah, I don't lack empathy, I'm just highly selective. With someone I care about, seeing them hurt will freak me out (although most of the time, I'm able to handle the situation and then fall apart later) whereas with other people, it's not that I'm happy they're hurt or that I don't care, but I either intellectualize the event (thinking about physiological details) or feel uncomfortable (a girl having cramps or a guy crying because he's in serous pain). So I think that I could be a decent phlebotomist. The question is, is that all I want to be? And the answer, of course, is no, but it'll have to do for now.

These grunt jobs are all about memorization of routine and minimal applied thought. Thinking too hard gets you in trouble. So although they're nice to me, the pay is a little better (debatable, since I might have gotten a raise by summer, had I stayed at the store), the benefits are good, etc etc, I think that ultimately, it isn't a position which I'll be happy maintaining for a long time. Stair step, yes. Resting place, no.

I still feel sad about not working at the store. I had seen enough to know that none of us mean anything, but having it hit home and happen to you is quite a blow, and I apparently had a lot of emotional investment in the place. The whole discrimination issue still gets my goat, it was wrong in every sense of the word, but I don't have the heart to fight it. What irks me the most is that my Asperger's syndrome was not the reason I couldn't work in the bakery, and I knew it. It was an excuse. The real reason was plain and simple, self interest; I would have felt better if they'd just come out and said so instead of making a personal slight out of it.

It's so crazy, because the biggest issue that I did have with that bakery was the amount of lifting. It killed my hips, but I was willing to do it because I loved the work. So it's ironic that the two full time bakery workers have both had foot injuries (which would interfere with lifting things quickly and moving around rapidly).

No, the real reason was that I was becoming too much of a pain, too much of a threat. I wouldn't shut up about things like sanitation and customer service and safety. Those issues couldn't be countered easily, so they just ran me off instead. I wonder how many other workers will have to leave, how long it'll go on, before the underlying problems become apparent, and if, even then, they'll actually be dealt with.

Anyhoo, it was a blessing in disguise. I needed to do something else with my life, but I felt like it'd be disloyal to leave. Now I can look around for that new direction, whatever it is. If I lived closer to Spokane, I'd go apply at White's boots.

I've decided that I don't ever want to grow old (as in, old enough to lose my independence). I don't care if people love and visit me or not. I don't ever, ever want to live in an old folk's home (spare me the pretty sounding labels, it is what it is). I thought old folks physically attacked the nurses because they were senile. Heck, has anyone considered that maybe they're just really pissed off about being where they're at? I mean, is that a possibility? Most of them seem to have broken hearts and broken spirits, like they've stoppped caring, stopped seeing, stopped thinking. Put me down like an old dog that you love, but *don't* abandon me in some antiseptic hellhole, even a nice one. I don't want to ever see a mental hospital...I'm sure that I would have nightnmares for years fearing that some moron would send me to one for my "disease".

Um, yeah, OK. So, as you can see, the job isn't exactly a perfect fit for me. I'm going to have to try to make it work though, because I am frankly too stressed to look for anything else. I guess I'll try to go ahead and take the phlebotomy classes in the summer. Wait- do they need to be empathetic, too? Is empathy something that I can fake or role play if I script it? People are constantly telling me that I seem nice or "sweet" (that's a laugh), etc, so I think that I must not look as cold as I feel. I'm nice to the goats when I do stuff (tattooing, disbudding, etc)to them, so maybe I could translate that to people.

See, this is what I'm talking about. I try and I try to find a place where I fit like a puzzle piece, and instead, I don't fit anywhere. I have to pretend that I fit when I'm actually more of a chameleon, and it sucks. I'm tired of having to pretend, or having to try hard not to flap or stim or makes strange sounds. Deal with it! You people do all sorts of stuff that makes absolutely no sense to me, like asking me how I am and then walking away before I can answer, or wearing really uncomfortable clothing, or caring more about what a person looks like than who they really are, or intimidating people who haven't even done anything wrong yet, and I have to deal with it even though it drives me crazy, even when it's actually hurting or confusing me. Most of the stuff I do is just strange, it doesn't hurt anyone.

I'm going to spend my whole life looking for a place where I can just relax and be what I am, and it isn't going to happen. Cripes.

Back to the old folks again, I sort of wonder about the whole empathy thing. I wonder if normal people actually care, or if they are just awfully good at pretending that they care? If they truly care, how can they endure it? Because I, being autistic and supposedly lacking in empathy and theory of mind, am driven to distraction by things that I observe (in the way of treatment of other people). If they are so superior in their empathy, then how in the hell can they stand it? It seems that if I'm bothered by it, their own reaction would be even more, but that isn't at all what I see. This makes absolutely no sense at all to me.

I got a new Elton John CD (Empty Sky) and am enjoying it. It really doesn't take a whole lot to make me happy.... :-)

My new job starts on Monday, which leaves me only 2 days off work before the stress begins again. I'm hoping to make the strawberry bed(s) tomorrow, including amending the soil, and then make any seed/bulb/plant orders. Hmmm. I also want to make an arched "tunnel" of apple trees in the front yard, but when I think about it, I should probably start buying the place first. Even if I get the trees cheaply, for example, $20 each, if I get 10 of them (which would be half the length of the tunnel planned, but the more I think about it, I don't want the entire length anyway) that'd be $240 for the trees alone, not counting metal rebar supports to train the trees up, or the boulders to protect the trees closest to the street from the encroachment of careless winter snowplows, or other associated expenses. Not counting the rocks, it'll be at least a $300 investment. Also, it is best to plant the trees in the fall, not spring. I think I will wait and order the trees with tax refund money and have them shipped in the fall. I do need to order the strawberry plants though.

I still want to paint before I start working again, but the sad truth is that there just isn't a whole lot of passion or drive in my soul lately. When I do paint/draw, people end up wrecking the half completed works anyway, so really, why waste my time?! Oh, that's just an excuse. I should quit whining and just knuckle down and do it.

sigh.....I still miss my old workplace....pathetic....

We're having a debate on a forum about eugenics and prospective gay fetuses. Frankly, I don't see what the big deal is. Maybe it's because I'm strange and non-standard issue anyway, but I think it'd be kind of neat to have a gay kid (OK, so flame away). I certainly wouldn't opt to abort or to have some sort of a "cure" administered in utero. Normal people with their ideals of a 100% normal world scare teh livign bejeezuz out of me.....Seems to me that one day, they're going to obliterate all the rest of us through one means or another.

To the end of the line, start to finish, I am still a Hill. No one can take that from me; it's written in my genes. No amount of degradation or homelessness or poverty can erase it; it will still be there. It is my birthright, oldest child of two oldest children, and I won't be robbed of it. I'm not talking about money, it's about identity and familial pride. It's easy to forget in this wilderness settled by a handful of immigrant families, by people who probably weren't all that bright before they started inbreeding.

What is a Hill?

We are eccentric and idiosyncratic, and for the most part, make no apologies for it.
We are, as a rule, intelligent.
We actually enjoy listening to classical music, and in fact this is probably the type that comes to our minds first if we hear the word "music".
We play chess, read books, collect things, and enjoy outdoor activities aside from team sports.
We frequently have bad knees, sinus problems, allergies, and few close friends.
We are concerned with education, status, and having a respectable job and position.
We like fine things: not necessarily brand new things, but good things. Actually, for a family that tends towards valuing good things, we're fairly frugal. We have a word for new, unnecessary, cheaply produced items: "crapola".
We appreciate culture, although the family could fairly be labeled "WASPy".
And then there's the Hill family humor...I'm not going to try to explain this.

Someday, I'll live near my family again. Until then, I'll maintain my identity. Which really, when you're a clannish Hill, is sort of uncomfortable, away from the fold.

Something I am noticing lately is that not only does my ability for coherent, intelligible speech fade away under stress and pressure, but the intake also becomes impaired. Usually a little bit of it gets through, in single word soundbites. (reference the post from Nov 13th on this page).

Examples from today: I went to the autism specialist who has been evaluating my tyhird son for a possible autism spectrum disorder. Preliminary findings are PDD-NOS, with possible Asperger's, pending I.Q. test. I relayed the recent happenings at my former workplace (yesterday was my last day) to him. I told him that essentially, I had a meltdown due to my manager nitpicking me, and also that even though I had been told that I would work in the bakery and would be trained for it, this hadn't happened, and the reason I had been given was because of my hyperfocusing,(which from my point of view, is pretty much necessary in doing any kind of fine detail work, particularly artistic detail work.) (At times like this, I really wish that I had become a surgeon, where the hyperfocusing would be a tremendous asset. Nobody in their right mind would complain that a surgeon paid too much attention to their task at hand.) a component of the Asperger's syndrome. I also told him that once I had calmed down from the meltdown, I realized that I'd made a mistake, and I begged them to let me stay, or to place me in a different position, or whatever, but it was to no avail. Having put in my 2 weeks notice, I had to go, period. I didn't feel that the whole thing was entirely kosher, particularly the part where a disablity was used as an excuse not to promote me where it'd be promised, or to move me if necessary.

Here is what I remember from what he said:

"Possible lawsuit

wrongful termination

hostile work environment (if he only knew!!!! I didn't tell him a tenth of it!)

People at job service building would be the ones to talk to

Idaho favors employers over employees

Everybody has their niche; what can be a liability in one place can be a huge strength in another.

If they hadn't told me that they were going to train me for an area, and then reneged on it, it would be a different story.

I'm sorry you were treated that way."


There was considerably more meat to the conversation than that, but for the most part, I remember only single words and key phrases.

And I hate to say this, but I think that I probably do this all the time, and especially when I'm upset. Certainly people get nasty to me, but I think it's also quite possible that my brain highlights primarily the most upsetting, disturbing things in BIG RED LETTERS and that at times, it's 95% of what I remember, just the highlighted stuff (which of course is generally highlighted because it set my alarm bells ringing). In other words, the positive stuff, the things that could be potentially nourishing to my soul or useful in terms of context or balancing out the negatives, go in one ear and out the other, and almost the only stuff I retain is often of an insulting, painful, traumatic, or otherwise freaky nature. It isn't that I do this intentionally, it just happens that way. It probably isn't all that surprising that I'm frequently depressed. :-/

If only I could stockpile *nice* memories and replay them over and over again. For some reason though, I have to ration out the nice memories that I do have. If I play them more than a few times, they fade in strength or I find it harder to remember them...no, that isn't exactly right. It's like they lose their clarity and strength, sort of like a can a pop goes stale after you open it. The bad memories, on the other hand, gain power and strength with each repetition, unless they're tied to a breakdown, in which I typically remember almost nothing at all except for a foggy gray haze and nothingness, like a living death that you gradually came out of.

The thing is, I don't think people realize...when they say something really mean to me, I don't just hear it once. I hear it hundreds or even thousands of times, cutting me down, making me hate them, and each time it's almost as fresh and brightly sharp as the first time.....when really, maybe they were just having a bad day and didn't mean it much.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Or maybe I just give them too much credit. I need to stop hashing all this over, because I am getting seriously enraged. I hate losing my temper, it's disgraceful...and every time I make a snide, sarcastic little comment, any satisfaction or relief I may feel at the time is offset by the shame and self-loathing I'll experience later on (couldn't pass up the opportunity to say that nasty little thing, could you? No, you couldn't just keep your mouth shut and maintain your dignity. You had to return the favor and get them back. Are you happy yet? You're just as bad as they are...yadayadayada).
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
A few years ago, there was a guy that I really and truly loved. I mean I loved him like there was no tomorrow. I can only hope that someday, I'll be able to feel that sort of intensity again, and hopefully for someone who can return it (because if it's one sided again, I don't think I could make it), but if I don't, I feel somewhat grateful (if sad) that I was able to experience that intensity and degree of color once. Anyway, I sort of knew he didn't feel the same way, and that was OK, but I did think he was my friend, and that was enough. Except, he wasn't my friend. We talked about everything under the sun, we spent hours visiting, playing games, doing stuff together, talking about our hopes and dreams, but as he said later, he wasn't a friend...just an aquaintance. If he had come across as a friend, he didn't mean it that way. He was just trying to be nice. I don't have any words to describe how much that hurt. I think he should have just put a bullet in my head. It would have been kinder.

And now, I sort of feel that way again. I don't trust people like I used to. They're all just full of shit, trying to be nice, pretending they're my friends, so they can go home and pat themselves on the backs for their own benevolence. I thought I meant something, I thought I mattered...even if it was only a little bit. And I don't...not a speck.

Color me disillusioned.
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I haven't given my bosses enough credit. They don't hate me, I just felt that way. If they're ignorant of the things that go on in the deli, it's because they've got the whole rest of the store to worry about, and they're trusting the managers of our section to ensure that things go as they should. Moreover, the bosses are inherently nice, decent people. In other words, the managers I've been speaking of are screwing them over behind their backs. It isn't the store itself that's the problem. There is a manager who's supposed to oversee the deli managers, but he's got so much else to worry about that he doesn't want to hear or think about the deli.

Our department might bring in a lot of money, but it's seperated from the rest of the store by that counter. I think the absolute best thing that could happen to the deli in terms of layout would be the move the displays that are blocking off the end of the deli. Having an open pathway, where they'd never be 100% certain that someone (i.e., a boss) wasn't entering or standing beyond their range of vision there, would make a lot of difference.

It would also help if they'd develop the habit of coming in the store at random, unexpected times dressed in ordinary clothes. I don't know ho wmany times I've coem in on my days off or at night, walked by the deli, and noticed crowds of customers standing there being ingnored (or waited on by only one person while two others were chatting happily in the back), or no chicken cooked or cooking or even being thought about, at 5:00-6:00 PM (our best hours in terms of selling chicken) or workers just goofing off or standing around "because there's nothing else to do". (I'm sorry, but you can *always* find something to do).

One of the curses of having AS is that my minds obsesses and broods over things (usually upsetting or disturbing things) that normal people apparently can think about for a short time and then either choose not to think about any longer or simply stop thinking about spontaneously. My mind doesn't work that way. It chews over stuff as relentlessly as a cow regurgitating its cud or a kid gnawing on the same old wad of gum all day long. Except, sometimes the same thing will bother me for days or weeks on end and I just cannot get rid of it unless I resolve it or it gets replaced with something else more absorbing or disturbing.

People often tell me that I think too much. I don't know what they're talking about. I think constantly, ravenously. My brain never stops, and it's always hungry unless I'm seriously exhausted or drugged (as after a birth). I don't know what they mean. Aren't they thinking all the time, too? This is hard for me to conceive of. I mean, if I just sat here and wrote about absolutely everything that came to my mind, I'd be here all day long, all the time. one of the reasons I value my sleep is that it allows me a rest and often I can think about things other than what I've been obsessing about (yeah, I think in my sleep, too, but it's less oppressive then). In fact, a lot of the purpose of having this site is it's function as an outlet, an overflow valve.

So, the end result of all this is that if something is bothering me deeply, it's going to drive me absolutely crazy until I get it resolved or settled somewhat.
Depression drives me to the edge of suicide.
Little niggling remarks by other people replay themselves over and over again like a harrassing message on a broken answering mnachine that I can't unplug.
Fears and worries grow and snowball out of all proportion and then I have anxiety/panic attacks.
I generally take a low risk policy towards social interactions, knowing that I can't afford to invest too much; if I let them hurt me, the costs will be too high, and I'll be paying it while they just shrug me off and forget about me.
Other people get a little blue, I get so depressed that I fall apart and can't function.
Little things, little stresses, worry me until I'm just a nervous wreck, expecting something disastrous to occur at every turn.

And I have go to find a way to deal with this, to be able to calm down. I know what I need, but it isn't going to happen for me. The goats- they help, but I can't have them here. Gardening helps. Exercise helps. I need to start finding things that help and cultivating them.

Another thing that would be good is to develop a routine/structure for my homelife. Routine and order is very comforting.

Damn, I'm gonna miss that job. Oh yeah, I got the job at the hospital. I decided against taking the CNA classes, it was just too much added stress at this time. Starting the new job is going to be about all I can handle for a few months. I think I'll go ahead and take the phlebotomy classes in the summer though, if I can.

So I went to the mandatory CNA class meeting (mandatory if you want to take the classes, that is). I'm undecided.

For:

• Being a CNA would be a great stepping stone into other medical/nursing areas, such as an LPN, RN, or nurse practitioner or possibly (yeah right) a doctor.
• It pays well and there will always be a demand and a serious need for CNAs.
• For the right person, it could be a very fulfilling, rewarding job.
• I'd get to work in a hospital. I love hospitals.
• There's the distinct possibility of specializing in developmental disabilities or autism spectrum disorders, especially with the increased awareness and improved detection or those of us who would have flown under the radar before.
• working as a CNA could settle, once and for all, the question of whether or not I belong in the medical field.

Problems:

• You're not allowed to miss a single day of class except under the most extreme circumstances. Hospitalization of family members is not among those reasons. If Charlie ends up in the hospital again with breathing problems, I'd flunk the class. I couldn't go on a vacation unless I did it before the class or afterwards.
• The classes are 9-5, Monday-Friday. That's a lot more time per week than I'd thought. No offense, folks, but I honestly thought that CNA classes entailed basic adult diaper changing and care techniques and first aid/CPR (which I already took before)and that was about it. This is a little more involved than I had guessed.
• What this means is that I either won't be able to work or my work hours would be severely curtailed. The only thing I can think of that would work is if I stayed at the store and worked as a cashier from 6-10 PM and then 8 hour days on Saturday and Sunday. If I did that, I'd miss only four hour (36 hours per week compared to the 40 I do now), but honestly, I don't think they're going to let me be a cashier.
• Lastly, I'm having serious doubts as to whether I have the correct temperament necessary to be a CNA. It isn't that I never care for people, because I do, but I am selective, and then when I do care about people, I get too deeply attached. I have this fear (which, in thinking about the problems I've been having at my soon to be former job, isn't all that unfounded)that people would be mean/rude/violent to me and I'd get really stressed out. If I can't hack working at a store, I don't know if I'd be able to take care of old men who pinch me and irrational women with Alzheimers who slap me for no good reason, simply because they're deranged.

One ray of hope: They are also having a phlebotomy class this summer, and I do think that I would be better suited to being a phlebotomist than a CNA. There is less prolonged personal interaction, and my fine motor skills (which have served me well in art, cake decorating, and artificial insemination) would come in handy there. I am gentle, I don't like to hurt people, but blood doesn't bother me. There aren't as many job opening for phlebotomists, but I have a hunch that I'd be better off doing that instead.

My job interview at the hospital (kitchen) is tomorrow. I should be apprehensive/anticipatory, but as it is, I'm just depressed and dispirited. I don't even have a written reference to bring with me, and god only knows what kind of reference they got over the phone, if they even called. Dammit, I know I wasn't perfect, but I wasn't that bad. The things that other people did to me- threatening to hit me, calling me names, telling me I shouldn't have a baby because I have Asperger's (I had it anyway, and he seems just fine), forcing me to work when I was in a lot of pain; I never did these things to anyone else, and I'm sure that the people who did them have, by and large, left with high recommendations, or are still at the place, still getting away with it because they're beyond reproach. Alright, so now I'm obsessing over the whole fairness/unfairness thing, and it isn't getting me anywhere but upset. I'll stop.

I hate it. It seems that no matter where I go, there just isn't going to be any place in the world for me where I'll really belong or fit in or be wanted. I'm so tired of it. I'm tired of hoping people will like me.

Shit. What a whiny pity party. At this rate, I might as well dig out the Hank Williams and Dwight Yoakum. ::disgust::

Today's song: sorry seems to be the hardest word

I'm sitting here trying to think of something else to write about, something other than

• work
• my love life
• autism/asperger's syndrome and all the different ways it can fuck up your life
• or just the generalized frustrations of my everyday life

and I'm drawing a blank.

Now I'm listening to Elton's "Blue Eyes". I love this song...I love it so much....because the sound of it reminds me of someone. Ha, ha. ;-) Noone will guess. ::smirk::

Well, I don't think they care at all that I'm leaving. Workers like me are a commodity, disposable. It hurts my feelings, becaue I feel like I've put a lot of myself into this store, like I've tried my very hardest to improve my performance and to look for ways that things could be streamlined or made simpler or more efficient. I've come in when I was so sick I could hardly function. I came in when I had a newborn baby that was nursing. The baby went to the daycare and I pumped my milk. That seems kind of wrogn to me, but I had to keep my job, or none of us, including the baby, would have had a place to live. And now, seeing that they don't care about me at all, I wish I could go back in time and hold that tiny baby and find something else to do. Geez....I'm going to start crying again and my eyes have been foggy for days now as as it is. I'm such a dork....who else cries like this about their job? Anyway, back to the topic here....I worked when my hips were killing me and I could hardly walk (please note here that the assistant manager went out of her way to order me to do things that would entail me walking all the way to the other side of the deli, to within a foot or two of where she was standing, even though she knew I was in serious pain and she was *right* there), I've filled in for other people when they quit or got sick or just flaked out, I even had an abortion because in part, I was terrified that they would fire me or ask me to leave if they knew I was pregnant (I didn't know at the time that pregnant women could work back there, and at the time, my hips were already causing serious pain, so I couldn't fathom what it would be like with the added strain of carrying a baby. What I did know is that they wouldn't cut me any slack.) And the day after the abortion, I was right there, broken up, barely holding it together, because I really did want that baby. I actually got vigorously questioned as to why I hadn't been there on the day of the event itself. (No, I didn't tell the manager who asked, but it seriously freaked me out and upset me.) Every day after that, I had to look at hundreds of sweet little newborn babies and just grieve and hold it together.

I've worked holidays so that other people could enjoy theirs, weekends, whenever they needed me, I'd work if I possibly could. I mean, I have consistently gone the extra mile, and given this place all I had to give, and they don't care if I stay or go. I mean nothing.

So, something happened at work. I'm not going to go into detail, because nobody would care anyway. What I will say is that it's been a cumulative thing and that the deli/bakery is just seething with hostility that goes more or less unspoken most of the time. When I read that and look at it, I think, "wow, that doesn't sound like a very good place for an aspie to stumble around in", and it's not. I'm just not good at this stuff. I like things out in the open, direct, up front, honest, and as ethical as practically possible, plus I don't have the fine tuned social skills that would be the grease to lubricate so many squeaking, grating wheels and gears. I've tried, I have....and it's been torturing me. I get no appreciation for my work, there are just these weird vibes of suspicion ,uch of the time, and it's massively uncomfortable. I just don't want to be anxious for hours on end anymore. I'm too stressed already, and I can't take it.

Anyway, very unexpectedly, this event happened, and I just broke. And I'm sitting here now thinking, because I remeber when I was a little snotty several months ago, and I caused another girl to cry (it was not intentional, but yeah, I was definitely meaner than I needed to be). I almost got fired for that, because she was crying over it. Both my managers have brought me to tears in the past month or so, unnecessarily, I didn't deserve it (OK, so that's subjective and debatable), neither of them got talked to about it, and they sure as hell weren't even sorry. They're never sorry for anything, no matter what they do. The big bosses apologize, but not these gals. I guess they think they're so perfect that they're always right. I think it takes a lot for a person to apologize. I always meant to tell the girl I hurt that I was sorry, but I never worked up the nerve to. And now I feel bad about that, even though she isn't there any more. Anyway, I've said it before: if you want me to hate you, humiliate me in public, and crying in public is one of the most embarrassing things on earth for me.

So I just cried and cried, and I wanted to walk out right there. It took all my self control not to...I just couldn't bear the thought of going back to that deli....and I had alreayd been a little burned out before all this anyway, and so with a heavy heart, I put in my two weeks notice.

And I don't know why I did this (except that maybe I was tired of being treated like shit and having to put up with the constant cavalier treatment back there), because I love that store. The whole next day, my heart was sinking (even thoguh I was still pissed off, upset, and hurt), because I am attached to the place.

Oh, you know what, just fuck it.... I give so much of myself to this place, and they don't even care. They don't even see it. Why am I crying about this? They don't deserve me if they can't treat me in a halfway decent manner and at least listen to what their own empoyees have to say once in a while. Forget it...just forget it.

Dang....I hate change.

Enough is enough. I'm just going to get worse and harder to live with if I don't change something. I've decided to look into taking the CNA classes, which are available locally. I don't particularly want to be a CNA, but I would settle for being a phlebotomist or a lab technician or something or possibly an R.N., and you have to start somewhere. I mean, ideally I would have a steady source of income coming in and could just go to college for a few years and concentrate on schooling, but that's just not going to happen. Ideally, I could have been a doctor, but there's no sense in sitting around bemoaning what could have been once upon a time. I'll work at it from the bottom up....if I can qualify for financial aid for these classes.

Also, I think I'm going to go back and visit my family this spring or summer. I need my roots, I feel marooned out here, and although I wish I could go and live back there, that isn't likely unless I could talk my ex into moving with me, so I'm stuck where I am for another decade or two. My grandmothers aren't going to last much longer, and they pretty much raised me in my early years. I need to go and see everyone and to refill my soul.

Lastly (completely unrelated to the above two topics) I'm planning on making a vegetable garden this year. It's about time to start the tomato seedlings in pots. This Friday when I get paid, I can get potting soil, soil amendments, haul some manure after I visit the goats, etc etc. Gardening is good exercise.

Sometimes, I really do hate people. Yesterday at work, I had some legitimate gripes. And I know that noone cares, but dammit, I care, and one of these days, there is going to be a serious problem if people keep ignoring these issues. I can't get anyone to listen. Example:

Deboning chicken for chicken salad: all the bones need to be removed, ALL of them! You simply cannot trust that you'll find them when you chop the meat up! (egads) If a customer injured themselves or died due to one small piece of bone left in the food, we would get sued, and we would all probably lose our jobs. I liek where I work, I like my job, and I don't want anyone to get hurt or to die from a single chicken bone. It's well worth it to me, to take a few extra minutes to insure that ALL of the chicken bones are out of the meat BEFORE I start chopping it up. Additionally, I think that if all the employees who work on this particular task aren't willign to be ultra-careful about the bones, we shoudl discontinue offerign this product, and simply throw the baked chickens out. The few dollars saved is nothing compared to the potential loss of life, hundreds of thousands of dollars (lawsuit) and the repuation of the workplace. Either do it right, or throw the damned things away. Or, let me do them (all of them) and don't bitch at me for being careful. I have a system, and I don't take any longer than I have to. It's gotten to where I know all the bones by heart....

That's only one example. I don't want to get fired, so I'll shut up while I'm ahead. But see, this isn't just a little thing to me. When you serve people food, there's this immense and unspoken element of trust involved. You have to uphold that trust and live up to it. You can't let them down due to laziness or tiredness or monetary losses- they have got to have safe, edible, and ideally, palatable food.
::sigh:: maybe I take it too seriously.

Anyway, so they griped at me about this, and since they both had more seniority than I do, there's nothing I can do about it. But, like I said, I was hating them for it inwardly, despising their stupidity and shortsightedness. I've come conclusion that a lot of the peopel here are, to put it bluntly, stupid. The lucky ones probably top out with an I.Q. of 100. At least one of my coworkers must be more like an 80. No, I'm not exaggerating or being mean. You would just have to be here to understand it.
They can't spell, they can't do math (even on paper, simple math, like 6x3, or 64 divided by 20) and the logic skills aren't much better. The worst of it is, it isn't really their fault. They don't know that they're dumb...I'm just annoying to them. And even when I'm right, I still have to bow before their seniority, unless there is a serious breach of health codes or protocol or fairness, bad enough that I'll brave taking it to the boss (last resort), who does happen to be endowed with intelligence (the bosses aren't local).

It's only that dealing with it every day, day in and day out, makes me want to *scream* or bite someone. There has got to be a better job for me somewhere. I don't mind this job, but I don't feel like there's much I can do to progress things as they stand.

Early morning, half awake mutterings:

Soft contact lenses feel kind of slimy. I guess that they sort of have to, to be comfortable sitting on an eyeball all day long.

It really would make more sense to put the body lotion on before I get dressed, rather than reaching down into my shirt right with it right before I bolt out the door. Duh!

Colds: I think I've caught more colds this winter than the last 2 0r 5 winters put together. Fact of the matter is, I'm not even sure they're seperate colds. Maybe it's just the same damned bug morphing, receding, hanging out until I'm weak or depressed or tired or whatever before attacking me again, trying to make me lose time off work. And I really can't do that, call in sick, I mean. They don't tolerate it very well there, unless an arm or a leg falls off or something like that.

::OK, I have to get dressed for a minute, I have only about 20 minutes before leaving for work::

Maybe if I ate regular meals, I wouldn't get sick. Maybe if I ate more veggies and fruits, I wouldn't get sick. Fact is, I've been trying not to eat at all, because my weight is up past where I'd like it to be. Yeah, yeah, don't tell me about exercise. After running around in that deli all day long, picking up kids from daycare, and then cleaning the house, I don't have a lot of energy left for exercise. Maybe in the summer I can shed it by working in the garden and yard. Also, I can't run the way I used to, or bounce and jump around a whole lot, because of the hips. Be nice if they could come up with a good reason why my hips hurt in the first place. A good part of my ego was tied up with being physically fit and strong for my size, and now I feel like a feeble wimp. At least I still have my brains. I think that if I suffered brain damage, I would have to just off myself..... Deteriorating by degrees is just depressing. I don't think I want to grow old, not unless I have something worthwhile to do, or a companion or mate or at least a really good friend of some kind.

Oh. I splurged on some prismacolor penicls. Megan uses those. I wonder where she is...her blog is gone and I don't th ink she's even online anymore. I miss her. I can't find my set of watercolor pencils - can only conclude that someone stole them at work, since they were in my lockless locker. The watercolor pencils are too expensive for me to replace right now.

OK, I really have to go now.

So, there's this plumber I like. I don't know why I refer to him as "the plumber"....except that the title imposes a certain amount of distance, whereas using someone's name makes it personal and hence a bit scarier. I don't even know why I like the man; there's just something about him.

Anyway, I've been watching this guy for about a year. :-P It's a game we all play in the grocery store, pointing out guys that we like to one another, mentally sorting through the humdreds of men who walk past us on a daily basis. It's been instructive. One of the things I've learned is that I'm pretty picky. 99.9% of these guys just don't appeal to me, period. But this guy, this plumber, I remember the first time I really noticed him. It was like I'd seen him somewhere before. He looked so *familiar*. I almost stopped to talk to him right then. My mouth must have dropped open as if to speak. I stopped in my tracks and looked at him. I started to walk again, stopped, looked at him again....and went into the store. I mentally knew that I didn't know him, but there was this haunting sense that I *should* know him. It's sort of bizarre. So ever since then, I've had my eye on him, silently. I didn't say anything to the other girls. I just watched and admired.

And then, one day they were making fun of my taste in men (essentially saying I had none), so I said, "That's not true! I do like good looking men. The next one I see, I'll show you." Within minutes, this same guy walked by. I pointed him out. The deli girls took one look at this guy, and then they ran right up to him and his fellow plumbers and found out whether he was married or had a girlfriend (no) and his name. Here I'd watched him for months, and then within minutes, my cover was blown (be careful what you tell other women). Well, almost. He didn't know who in the deli likes him, and he still might not...but I think that by now he's got it all figured out.

But see, I'm so shy that I can't talk to him. I get all nervous and my hands shake and I can't even look at him. He's either shy, too, or else he doesn't like me and is hoping that one of the married chicks likes him. It's depressing. If I could just bring myself to smile or wave or talk, maybe I'd find out...maybe he's mean and I can just forget the whole thing (but actually, he doesn't seem mean...he seems like a decent person). Arrrgh! It's tormenting me. I feel absolutely ridiculous and pathetic.

**************************************************************

Anyway, I kind of hate Valentines day. All it is is a day to stand on the sidelines and observe how loved everyone else is. I'd like to think that someday, it could happen to me, that maybe it could work out someday. I'd wait til I was 90 just to spend a few years with the right person....but what if there isn't one? What if the best I can do is to have an amicable friendship with guys that I like as a person, and feeling guilty that I can't put any passion into that kind of relationship, feeling like they're being cheated and like I'm using them, and then feeling guiltier yet when I end the mess? Maybe I should just try and keep people happy, and to hell with what I want or would like. I don't even know this plumber. I don't even know his last name or if he's a drunk or a wifebeater or whatever. What am I thinking?!

Well, I've been fighting off a cold for the past two weeks, so I suppose it was only a matter of time before it caught up with me. I made the mistake of showing up for work yesterday when I knew I was pretty sick. They made me stay even though I was so sick that I could hardly function. And, it may have been the cold, but my hips still hurt. I could hardly walk yesterday. I think that the White's boots help somewhat, but not entirely. I don't know if it's the hard concrete floor there or what. So today I called in sick. I could hardly crawl out of bed this morning anyway. /pityparty

I am getting seriously disillusioned with work again. I don't think they really care all that much about whether or not we're productive, hard working, problem solving, or any of the other things that have to do with work ethic and making money for your company. No, I think that basically, what matters is that you paste a happy face on and have a good attitude. Other than that, you can show up for work or not, work hard or not, cause serious financial losses to the business...as long as you don't rock the boat or seem unhappy at all, anything else is more or less fine. And with this being the case, it seems simple enough, you'd think I'd be able to pull it off, but no. The inefficiency and certain other things that I see drive me absolutely crazy, and I'm [b]not[/b] good at putting a phony mask on. The whole hopelessness of it all makes me depressed. There has got to be a job for someone who is intelligent, honest with or without supervision, resourceful, more or less says what they think, and who is constantly seeking for ways to improve matters either in terms of efficiency or the actual product. You would think that there would be a better place for me, but honestly, all folks seem to care about is whether you're a nice butt-kisser.

Why I run away from men (literally):

I run away from or otherwise avoid them because I think that the potential pain of getting one's heart broken is just as scary as anything could ever possibly be.

Sometimes I feel like such a social retard. It isn't so much that I want to change the essence of who I am....but on the other hand, it's downright painful to be so socially awkward, to not know what to say.

The real hell of it is that I tend to prefer other quiet, reserved people, and it can be seriously difficult to develop any kind of a rapport with someone like that. I can think of a lot of people, of both sexes, whom I'd like to have gotten to know better, but I didn't know what to say, so I said very little, and I never got to know them (predictably enough). I'm tired of this. I need to fix it, and I have no idea how.

Maybe....something direct? I'm good at that approach once I get the nerve together...

(more later)

Broken Children
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I am sitting here crying. I've been looking at pictures and descriptions of children available for adoption.

I looked at the Asian children first, because if I were actually going to adopt, I'd probably want to get an Asian girl. Most of the listed Asian kids were born with birth defects or are disabled in some way. :( The one that started the tears was a beautiful little boy about 5 years old. Well, he was beautiful to me, even with the huge red birthmark covering almost the entire left side of his face. He's Chinese, so I guess since they only get to have one child there, it has to be 100% perfect, right down to not having any birthmarks. Then there was another from China, a little 2 year old boy with a nicely repaired cleft lip and palate. The expression on his face looked wounded and rejected...already. Heart defects, disabilities, etc etc.

There were only 3 African kids listed, all older and all very beautiful.

American children: this is where it got really hard. Many of them have Asperger's syndrome, just like me. I would love to take one of these kids home, but I can't: travis


"Travis says he would like an adoptive family that would enjoy playing board games and card games with him and he hopes his new family will have other children.

The ideal family for Travis will be experienced in parenting and knowledgeable about behavioral issues and Asperger’s syndrome. This could be a couple or a strong single male. Travis should be the only child in the family or he must be the youngest as he will need 24-hour supervision. The family should be very structured, able to commit fully to Travis and be understanding of his mental health and social skill needs."

Anytime you read about an adoption for an aspie kid, it will say that, even if the kid is 17 years old. He/she has to be either the youngest kid with a much older sibling, or an only child. It's as though they think that aspies cannot grow up with younger siblings, or siblings close to our own age! People, people!!!! ::chamoisee bangs her head against the computer desk:: Where in the HELL do you think we finally DO learn our social skills from??? Insulating us from siblings is NOT the ideal way to develop our social skills, DUH! That poor kid, he actually says that he wants a family with other kids, and the workers will make sure he doesn't get it.

I ask you, how many adoptive parents, given the choice of only one child, an aspie, to adopt, or another child with the option of possibly getting a brother or sister or adding him or her to an already existinbg family, is going to choose the aspie?! These poor kids are going to stay in foster care because of this absolutely demented idea that we aspies "cannot handle" the stress of competing with brothers or sisters.

Our siblings are often our best friends. What a disservice...what a cruelty, to deny these kids not only that but also a potential home for that reason.

Urg, what a week we've had! The baby got pneumonia, the 6 year old got pink eye (and I am fervently hoping that the baby hasn't caught it, because if he did, I'm out several days of work whie, he recovers, and my coworkers will be PEEVED with me!) our pipes froze and I had to go crawl around under the house in the dirt embedded with cat shit (I am trying valiantly to quell the urge to murder all those cats, most of which aren't even mine- cat repellent, maybe?) to find out about the heat tape and work on getting the water working again. I am just mentally and emotionally exhausted. I mean, picture it: six kids in a one bedroom house in the middle of winter on a very cold day (so going outside to play is not an option), one of them has pinkeye, which is very contagious, but none of them can wash their hands to prevent it, because there isn't any water, the house is a pit but you can't do dishes or laundry or even wipe anything down, and in the midst of all this is a baby who is still sick and needs rest badly.

:jumps up to go and turn the water on to a trickle, so it doesn't freeze again tonight:

Well, I looked in the mirror. I'm not really ugly....just average. I think what it must be is the whole eye contact issue. I don't make good eye contact, and eye contact is the way women signal that they are interested in a man or in any person,for that matter. When you think about it, isn't lack of eye contact the main reason that normal parents get so fed up with us and want to cure their autie kids? I think it's really hard for normals to love something or someone if they cannot get eye contact from it. Their bonding seems to hinge strongly on eye contact.

Moreover, I am beginning to notice that many of the men I have found attractive have eyes that are squinty or deep set or overshadowing by a prominent browline. Men with a strong, direct gaze creep me out and repel me, especially if the shape of the eye is such that most of the eye is visible. Eyes that have white showing around the iris (either above orbelow the iris, or god help us, both!!!) are particularly offensive.

So, for those of you who have an aspie or autie that you do love in spite of their poor eye contact, try squinting your eyes a little or wearing sunglasses when you talkto them,and see if that helps.

There is that song by Elton John...Sorry seems to be the hardest word. I feel that way a lot, like I'm searching in vain for the elusive, ineffable thing or quality that it'd take for people to love me.

What is it that they want that other women have that I don't? I don't understand it, it doesn't make sense to me. The constant, day to day rejection wears away at me and breaks my heart a little bit at a time. It's demoralizing. I wish I knew what it is. Things like:

Long, painted fingernails: Do men really find these appealing? They look threatening to me, like the woman is armed to claw someone or something. And the color...why should that matter?

Pedicures: Do men even look at a woman's feet? Do they actually care about the cuticles of her toes?? I really sort of doubt it.

Eyeliner: to me, it just looks slutty and cheap and artificial.

Hair: I don't care what anyone says, I'm not bleaching my hair blond for any man. However, it does seem that men like longer hair than what I have, and maybe a more feminine style than what I have. I'm so ticked right now that I'd like to just shave it short, like 1/4"long....but I'm considering letting it grow out to shoulder length, dye auburn highlights (my hair was red when I was little) with henna, and perm it so that it has slight waves (not awful, tight, kinked curls, no).

I don't know....I'm tired of people not liking me the way I am, I hate it.

Maybe if I were blond and stupid and dizzy/ditzy and helpless, and if all I cared about was makeup and visiting and giggling with equally ditzy friends, things would be different for me. I don't know why there's such a prejudice against smart women. It seems to me that a man with balls wouldn't be threatened by an intelligent woman.

Work today: The work itself went OK. But for some reason I don't understand, things got flippy for me after lunchtime. I don't know what you call it, anxiety attacks? Here is a description:

I started going...remote and silent. I wasn't even aware of it until one of the boxboys mentioned it. I believe the word he used was "catatonic". Then I started flapping a little bit, and gradually more..and more. Pretty soon I was flapping a lot. I felt...like my mind was slipping into a daze. Then I begn to have a feeling that I wanted to get out of the deli, to do tasks that would let me walk around and get out of there for a while, but I couldn't. A pressure developed around my chest and I felt a little short of breath, so I started gasping for air periodically. By this time I was not only flapping but also rocking in place (standing) and wanted desperately to go home or just get out of the entire place, for no particular reason except that it was noisy and just...too much.

I made myself a latte and set myself on tasks in the bakery, which has fewer customers and multitasking and chaos. That seemed to help, and after a while, I gradually felt better, but all the rest of the day I felt pretty remote.

Sometimes it's more of a full fledged panic attack, where my heart is pounding so hard that I can't hear much of anything and my hands are shaking really bad and I can't even think, but that's usually when I have soemone truly rotten to work with, like the cheap, rotten-hearted bitch that I wanted to kill (she told me that I stunk-loudly and in front of customers- for aout 4 hours, and I *didn't* stink at all...effing crackhead!!!) or the one when I first started who threatened to slap me because I couldn't process her verbal instructions very well. It isn't usually that bad...

And at times like this, I wonder if maybe I should qualify for some kind of training for a job that would pay better and that I'd be better qualified for.

I finally got my garlic planted...some of it, anyway. I didn't have enough room prepared to plant all the regular sized garlic, but I did get all the elephant garlic in the ground and a little of the standard type.

I'm eating some Haagen Dazs ice cream right now, eggnog flavor. It is so incredibly good that it's almost orgasmic. Oh mannnnn...... Mmmmmm. Ohhhh...I didn't know ice cream could be this good. Even Ben and Jerry's isn't this good. Eeeek! OK, that is enough..I'm getting brain freeze. I'll save the rest of it for when I'm depressed and pessimistic again.

People who know me might be surprised to hear that I experience that sort of extreme pleasure on a very regular basis. Taste....smells.....and particularly visuals, especially colors. Flowers are especially good for color, because of the depth and intensity of the hue. When I see a color that does that for me, it seems to throb and my brain glows with pleasure.....it's almost like getting high (except I never do *that*). The shape, the form, those are OK, but the color is what really hits me. My paintings are like that, too. They have objects- a peach, a flower, a piece of fruit....but it's really about color. My backgrounds are often as bright or brighter than the subject, and the intensity of the color is the type that feeds my brain- it's intense and often pure pigment right from the tube. I don't think other people who look at my work understand that. They see the piece of fruit or whatever and they're looking for a photo-realistic likeness, which was never, ever my intent. It was about color. The subject was only the means of conveying the color, not the point of the painting.

It irritates me when people look at my art and tell me what they think it means or make stupid assumptions. If they want to know what I meant, why don't they ask? They can't read my mind or know what I was thinking or what it is (if the work is not representational). Oh well. That is why if I ever exhibit my work (again) and get reviews or publicity, I don't even want to read it. It would just annoy me.

My third son is currently (finally) being evaluated to ascertain whether or not he also has Asperger's or some other autism spectrum disorder. He is a wonderful kid and I love him just the way he is, but I do want his life to be easier than mine has been. Hell is life as an aspie being held to neurotypical expectations and being punished for not meeting them when you don't even know what they are! it sound rotten to say this (and self-defeatist as well) but I think it's the truth: I don't feel that I will ever really recover from a childhood (including teens and early adulthood) in which I was routinely and systematically penalized for being "different" and berated for not being "normal". I would love to wake up and have teh same self assurance that I had a a small child, before they squished me, but I'm not sure it'll ever happen. I want that for my son, though. He still has that self confidence, and I don't want people to go and take it away from him.

My youngest son (#6) is sleeping. He's sick. I think he's doing well developmentally, meeting all the milestones on time. His father and I are both aspie, so we've wondered what he will turn out like. The only red flag I have seen so far is that his head diameter is over the 90% percentile, while his length is at 40% and his weight is under 5% (which, if you're getting alarmed, is par for the course with my kids- they run small). Rapid head growth in the first two years is really common in autistic children and is one of the things they look for. He's very sociable, though..hasn't seemed to experience any stranger anxiety...he'll smile at almost anyone, and makes good eye contact, is alert and focused on the world around him, not off in a dream world like my lovely #3 son.

My children give me something to live for. I don't know what I'd do without them, probably get some job that was just enough to live on and hole up in a little rustic cabin on a moutain top. I would paint and garden and have animals, but I'd be hiding from the world with all lits cruel people who say and do nasty things. The kids force me to go out and battle my way through every day life and to develop more social skills than I ever would have otherwise- I just don't have a choice.

Charlie is sick and sleeping. The oldest two boys are visiting with a friend, doing social stuff (looking at Christmas lights in the nearest city, my idea of DULL!, but they're really happy)and the house is quiet. I think I'm going to turn this droning, whining machine off and paint or draw....or clean house, heh.

I got the chocolate Mickey. Now he and Minnie are a happy couple. I am more or less leaving the claw machine alone, which means that I still play it occasionally, but not $5 at a time anymore. The vendor who maintains it must have gotten peeved at the toll I was taking: he has packed the animals in so tightly now that they'll hardly budge. Anyway, part of having Asperger's is being prone to obsessions. In my case they can be long-term or short term. I'm trying to make this one of the short term ones. I'll try to discuss obsessions some more when I get off of work tonight.