Friday, June 29, 2007
Some BadGuys
"I'm not talking about the kind of clothes she wears
Look at that stupid girl
I'm not talking about the way she combs her hair
Look at that stupid girl
The way she powders her nose
Her vanity shows and it shows
She's the worst thing in this world
Well, look at that stupid girl
I'm not talking about the way she digs for gold
Look at that stupid girl
Well, I'm talking about the way she grabs and holds
Look at that stupid girl
The way she talks about someone else
That she don't even know herself
She's the sickest thing in this world
Well, look at that stupid girl
Well, I'm sick and tired
And I really have my doubts
I've tried and tried
But it never really works out
Like a lady in waiting to a virgin queen
Look at that stupid girl
She bitches 'bout things that she's never seen
Look at that stupid girl
It doesn't matter if she dyes her hair
Or the color of the shoes she wears
She's the worst thing in this world
Well, look at that stupid girl
Shut-up, shut-up, shut-up, shut-up, shut-up
Shut-up, shut-up, shut-up, shut-up, shut-up
Shut-up, shut-up, shut-up
Like a lady in waiting to a virgin queen
Look at that stupid girl
She bitches 'bout things that she's never seen
Look at that stupid girl
She purrs like a pussycat
Then she turns 'round and hisses back
She's the sickest thing in this world
Look at that stupid girl"
"Stupid Girl," by The Rolling Stones,
(Jagger? album "AfterMath"?)
(In the British music Invasion
The Beatles were called the GoodGuys" and
The Rolling Stones were called the "BadGuys")
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Oh NillyWilly BooHoo
I am height disabled.
My height-functioning-level is that of a 12 year old's.
If I had the height of a 2 year old,
I would be severely height-handicapped. (*gasp*)
My height-functioning-level is that of a 12 year old's.
If I had the height of a 2 year old,
I would be severely height-handicapped. (*gasp*)
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Trying to sort things
Okay, I'm trying to sort things.
I'll try to sort and list what I have in mind:
I guess so far this blog, my Safe Space will be reserved for just talking, diary things, should in fact be my safe space, if that's still at all possible like it once was.
This wil be the place where maybe I can come and say something about the more current past, as in the recent week or the very day I am writing on, can say things like
"I am really all peopled out today" or things like that, that'd be here.
The Orignal I think is where I hope to start sorting my history, my stuff for the book about myself that has to be written.
Alot of that sort of stuff is here to start with, but of course I had no idea and no way of knowing the events that would take place and stuff I'd become aware of etc., making my teenytiny little background startup (and then a few frustrated driven attempts at more of my history) here in my safe space necessary, or so ineffective,so hopefully having a space just for the other will work.
I also have another one called 'Ugly Stuff" and I really don't know if I am going to keep that one or what.. its all part of my history and definately some of that has 'shaped me' or whatever it is that I have been getting instruction in terms of what needs to go into a biography, but its stuff I don't talk about, bad stuff.
I just dont' know what to do there about that stuff or how to deal with it and that section just for bad stuff may end up going away. I jumped right in with typing some of the worst of it, its been rolling around in my mind when I think of trying to write about institutions, places I have been, the differences between them, staff in them etc. I will have to expose and admit just how disabled I really am to do this and that's hard too, as hard as admitting some of the realy bad stuff that happened.
I have a few core beliefs about things including 'don't hang a target on your back' and people who make a fuss about how 'angry' I seem don't have a clue what's propelling tht 'anger' or what that's all about and I'm not real eager to show my vulnerabilities in a world where I've learned that's a very, very, bad thing to do.
Maybe I can figure something out.
I have one just to keep my call for help up at its top. Addressing The problem has its own section now, hoping people can see and go right to that then.
For now
I really am all people/cerebralled out
(too much reading emails, reading websites, auditory playback in my mind of what people have said even can do this even when I've actually been entirely alone awhile)
I really do need to sit quietly and hold my toys
$1.06 of happiness = 5 little 'hotwheel sized' cars all for one dollar
(plus state sales tax.)
I'll try to sort and list what I have in mind:
I guess so far this blog, my Safe Space will be reserved for just talking, diary things, should in fact be my safe space, if that's still at all possible like it once was.
This wil be the place where maybe I can come and say something about the more current past, as in the recent week or the very day I am writing on, can say things like
"I am really all peopled out today" or things like that, that'd be here.
The Orignal I think is where I hope to start sorting my history, my stuff for the book about myself that has to be written.
Alot of that sort of stuff is here to start with, but of course I had no idea and no way of knowing the events that would take place and stuff I'd become aware of etc., making my teenytiny little background startup (and then a few frustrated driven attempts at more of my history) here in my safe space necessary, or so ineffective,so hopefully having a space just for the other will work.
I also have another one called 'Ugly Stuff" and I really don't know if I am going to keep that one or what.. its all part of my history and definately some of that has 'shaped me' or whatever it is that I have been getting instruction in terms of what needs to go into a biography, but its stuff I don't talk about, bad stuff.
I just dont' know what to do there about that stuff or how to deal with it and that section just for bad stuff may end up going away. I jumped right in with typing some of the worst of it, its been rolling around in my mind when I think of trying to write about institutions, places I have been, the differences between them, staff in them etc. I will have to expose and admit just how disabled I really am to do this and that's hard too, as hard as admitting some of the realy bad stuff that happened.
I have a few core beliefs about things including 'don't hang a target on your back' and people who make a fuss about how 'angry' I seem don't have a clue what's propelling tht 'anger' or what that's all about and I'm not real eager to show my vulnerabilities in a world where I've learned that's a very, very, bad thing to do.
Maybe I can figure something out.
I have one just to keep my call for help up at its top. Addressing The problem has its own section now, hoping people can see and go right to that then.
For now
I really am all people/cerebralled out
(too much reading emails, reading websites, auditory playback in my mind of what people have said even can do this even when I've actually been entirely alone awhile)
I really do need to sit quietly and hold my toys
$1.06 of happiness = 5 little 'hotwheel sized' cars all for one dollar
(plus state sales tax.)
Monday, May 14, 2007
Nicknames
I was also nicknamed Bird and Canary and Budgie (by my father, my grandfather on his side and friends of my father) because I was always too small for my age and the way I moved and flapped my hands and looked at things from the sides of my eyes and acted 'like a bird' or 'birdlike' and my father and I also have this unusual thing where birds are not afraid of us, will land on us, and I can pick up eggs and put them back in a nest and the mother bird still cares for them.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Bend, little willow
I had been meaning to make this movie for a little girl named Jacey but didn't know how to do it.
Then yesterday while having a lunch with my dad he told me that he's been battling cancer. He said its the very same cancer and the same way that it started that just a few years ago became brain-cancer and then took my uncle, (my dad's older brother).
After that it became clear and I knew exactly how I would make this movie for a little girl named Jacey (and for my dad).
Bend, little willow
Wind's gonna blow you
Hard and cold tonight
Life, as it happens
Nobody warns you
Willow, hold on tight
Nothing's gonna shake your love
Take your love away
No one's out to break your heart
It only seems that way... hey
Sleep, little willow
Peace gonna follow
Time will heal your wounds
Grow to the heavens
Now and forever
Always came too soon
Little willow
Nothing's gonna shake your love
Take your love away
No one's out to break your heart
It only seems that way... hey
Bend, little willow
Wind's gonna blow you
Hard and cold tonight
Life, as it happens
Nobody warns you
Willow, hold on tight
Ah, little willow
Little willow
("Little WIllow"
McCartney 1997, Flaming Pie)
Then yesterday while having a lunch with my dad he told me that he's been battling cancer. He said its the very same cancer and the same way that it started that just a few years ago became brain-cancer and then took my uncle, (my dad's older brother).
After that it became clear and I knew exactly how I would make this movie for a little girl named Jacey (and for my dad).
Bend, little willow
Wind's gonna blow you
Hard and cold tonight
Life, as it happens
Nobody warns you
Willow, hold on tight
Nothing's gonna shake your love
Take your love away
No one's out to break your heart
It only seems that way... hey
Sleep, little willow
Peace gonna follow
Time will heal your wounds
Grow to the heavens
Now and forever
Always came too soon
Little willow
Nothing's gonna shake your love
Take your love away
No one's out to break your heart
It only seems that way... hey
Bend, little willow
Wind's gonna blow you
Hard and cold tonight
Life, as it happens
Nobody warns you
Willow, hold on tight
Ah, little willow
Little willow
("Little WIllow"
McCartney 1997, Flaming Pie)
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
"what is the hardest part of being social?"
This is just another post of mine I'd been meaning to retrieve
From another forum thread, this one entitled
"what is the hardest part of being social?"
(start Forum Post)
When being around other people and being social I have three catatgories:
The first catagory is a list of things not to do that might hurt myself or others. This is the first and most important catagory that has to be kept when being social, it is absolutey important that this catagory of rules be followed at all times if I have to let go of getting things done in the second catagory to keep this one then I will. I rarely ever don't get this whole list kept. This is the most important one and I am very clear on what is on this list. Fortunately this is the smallest catagory too.
A few examples from this list:
no banging biting hairpulling
(this could be called the Very Obvious List, its a very clear one.)
The second catagory is a list of things that are not hurtful but also not to do because others can get very upset if you do them. This is a larger catagory and it sometimes still has to be updated and added to. Keeping to this list is harder than the first and I can't always keep all of these as well as the first catogory but I think I do most of it most of the time.
a few examples from this list:
no screaming picking scratching (screaming is Very Obvious but it goes on this list instead of the one above because it doesn't hurt others. More of these are Fairly Obvioius but not all of them.)
The third catagory is much harder and I never do get all of this list or anywhere near it because it is this impossible huge and always growing catagory. Also because my priorities are for the first two lists.
This is the Subtle Infinite List that is also not mostly consisting of don't it has quite a few do's, things that it is necessary to recall to act on and do. Timing for many of these is also very difficult to me. I do them too early or the other person is where they can't see when I start to do them too late.
a few examples from this list:
don't make faces, start then keep looking at a person's face when they are looking and talking until they are done, make a smile, don't fidget (the whole little stims don't do subcatagory goes here), etc to infinity.
This list contains more the Subtle and Less Obvious and I don't like to think about this list. Its hard to think about it sitting here in my apartment. I can think about it a little more when I am having to be social at that time.
To me being social is like driving a car (which I also can't do but at least nobody gets killed if you can't drive a conversation). There are completely too many things to try to keep track of and its exactly like looking ahead at the road ahead and trying to watch the spedomoter then look at the mirror on the side, pay attention to how much you are pressing on the gas look at the spedometer agian notice how far other cars are from uyou and if you are in the right place in your own lane and is there a turn and how far to start stopping and put the signal on and then you're not looking at the mirror or this other mirror and I can't even explain it there is just way too much going on trying to drive a car that I cannot possibly do all at once even if I had 16 eyes on my head I could not I cannnot coordinate all of that and being social and having a conversation with 99% of people (and ohboy if there is more than one of them at a time too) is just like that to me.
I prefer to be alone or to only go outside with my friend John (for other reasons besides social also) and sometimes for short things about greetings and so forth in some places I copy him because he is much better at these things and people seem to like him.
Droopy
(End Forum Post)
From another forum thread, this one entitled
"what is the hardest part of being social?"
(start Forum Post)
When being around other people and being social I have three catatgories:
The first catagory is a list of things not to do that might hurt myself or others. This is the first and most important catagory that has to be kept when being social, it is absolutey important that this catagory of rules be followed at all times if I have to let go of getting things done in the second catagory to keep this one then I will. I rarely ever don't get this whole list kept. This is the most important one and I am very clear on what is on this list. Fortunately this is the smallest catagory too.
A few examples from this list:
no banging biting hairpulling
(this could be called the Very Obvious List, its a very clear one.)
The second catagory is a list of things that are not hurtful but also not to do because others can get very upset if you do them. This is a larger catagory and it sometimes still has to be updated and added to. Keeping to this list is harder than the first and I can't always keep all of these as well as the first catogory but I think I do most of it most of the time.
a few examples from this list:
no screaming picking scratching (screaming is Very Obvious but it goes on this list instead of the one above because it doesn't hurt others. More of these are Fairly Obvioius but not all of them.)
The third catagory is much harder and I never do get all of this list or anywhere near it because it is this impossible huge and always growing catagory. Also because my priorities are for the first two lists.
This is the Subtle Infinite List that is also not mostly consisting of don't it has quite a few do's, things that it is necessary to recall to act on and do. Timing for many of these is also very difficult to me. I do them too early or the other person is where they can't see when I start to do them too late.
a few examples from this list:
don't make faces, start then keep looking at a person's face when they are looking and talking until they are done, make a smile, don't fidget (the whole little stims don't do subcatagory goes here), etc to infinity.
This list contains more the Subtle and Less Obvious and I don't like to think about this list. Its hard to think about it sitting here in my apartment. I can think about it a little more when I am having to be social at that time.
To me being social is like driving a car (which I also can't do but at least nobody gets killed if you can't drive a conversation). There are completely too many things to try to keep track of and its exactly like looking ahead at the road ahead and trying to watch the spedomoter then look at the mirror on the side, pay attention to how much you are pressing on the gas look at the spedometer agian notice how far other cars are from uyou and if you are in the right place in your own lane and is there a turn and how far to start stopping and put the signal on and then you're not looking at the mirror or this other mirror and I can't even explain it there is just way too much going on trying to drive a car that I cannot possibly do all at once even if I had 16 eyes on my head I could not I cannnot coordinate all of that and being social and having a conversation with 99% of people (and ohboy if there is more than one of them at a time too) is just like that to me.
I prefer to be alone or to only go outside with my friend John (for other reasons besides social also) and sometimes for short things about greetings and so forth in some places I copy him because he is much better at these things and people seem to like him.
Droopy
(End Forum Post)
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
"Making Bread"*
Here is yet another excerpt of yet another aspect of my life . This was posted on yet different forum than the previous one is from.
(Start of Post)
I started to type on a typewriter (and meangfully) for the first time when I was just short of 30 years old - the state of sped-up frenzy that was then that year I was 30 and then partially into being 31 (with barely any break in the acceleration even after that) of in approximately a 12 month period of going from a daily routine of going to a sheltered workshop, coming home to the grouphome and and live as a presumed mentally retarded person with an IQ around 20 to communicating, the treatment I received from others entirely changing, being bombarded with ADL (adult daily living) skills towards the goal of having my own apartment as soon as I expressed this desired goal, to attending a selective-admissions university, a second move then to this city and apartment I live in now.. there was so much that year I can't begin to think of it all in one setting.. I literally had at least several decades if not a lifetime packed into that year or so and at lightyear speed, this is as close as I can imagine this 'no dead time' experience as I can imagine a person could have. The result is it trigger a mental illness in me known as Bipolar disorder and hypo-manic/manic episodes. I know the current theory is that for a person to have a mental illness the disposition for it has to be inside of you waiting for something to set it off, to be the catalyst, well that was certainly it then.
While in that manic state of mind (which I was not aware of until afterwards, evidently a neuropsychiatrist who'd been my doctor since the regional center picked right up on it but neglected to tell me until after the fact, I doubt it would have made any difference anyway, people had said I'd had a miracle and was having 'miracle after miracle' and yet another movie I heard "you are just like" is one named "Rudy" although the character in that movie isn't autistic) and I believed all that miracle stuff to the point I think if anyone had said "excuse me but you are having a mental illness and that's why you can do all these amazing things" (like the academia and such that I am convinced I am not capable of in a normal state of mind) I wouldn't have believed it, I 'was having miracles, dammit' on a sort of preordained mission from God or something there, or so I thought (and raging deadly homocidally furious the whole time, due to the certain very traumatic thing that happened at the sheltered workshop that year that if any single event could be pointed to that 'set me off' that was it). I decided I was 'a genius' (and people saying that I was and supporting that belief and behaving as if 'genius' was a relevant and 'the end all be all' thing certainly fostered and supported this and wasn't helping matters) I verbally spoke an entire 'speech' at a dinner held for me as "Consumer of the Year' at the DRC, even if it was only a two sentence 'speech' that went like this: "We are in your schools, we are in your universities, and we are in your world, its our world too and we are here to stay. Thank you" (I was inspired to write this speech by the children's cartoon "Horton Hears a Who")
that's is by far the longest string of words I've ever vocalized in my entire life let alone understandably so... Yes it was me and I did them and even if during the throes of mental illness still pretty amazing stuff for me (made the dean's list, into all honors(accelerated/gifted) classes at the "honors college' on campus, membership to phi beta kappa (GPA based sorority) got accepted to even fancier schools I'd never attend but qualifed for (the University of Michigan being one that stands out in my mind), qualified for things like "Mensa' and the "Prometheus club" etc... I can look back and feel accomplished, yeah that was me that did that.. sort've.. a mentally ill me, but still me, purely adrenaline and rage powered (other people get adrenaline and lift vw's and toyotas off of loved ones, evidently I do mental feats I can't ordinarly, go figure) but I wouldn't want to do it again
I was about as miserable during my rage-fueled 'genius' experience as a person could possibly be.
I eventually 'bottomed out' in the form of literally one day waking up one morning and being if not exactly 'catatonic' then something extremely close to it, which started me into this other part of 'bipolar disorder' (and why its called that) a huge massive (and equally mentally ill and somewhat delusional at that end as well) depression. That part was so clearly 'not cool' and realy hurt and was the part that caused that doctor to finally happen to tell me (and with an added thrown in "I thought you knew".. well at depression's end I sure did anyway!) and that's how my major sped-up-adventure came to an end and I discovered what it had actually been and that I had this 'other thing' now (a bipolar disorder, which since then has been disputed by other doctors and counselor guys because there's been no other since of it since.. I kind of think I had some sort of one-trip deal there with it, I hope that's all of it I'll ever have) after quite some time balanced out to about where I am now.
I'm healthier and 'regressed a bit' in that I'm not capable of all that so much now (but I'm back to a level of *functioning* in another way that's more important and that is realistic for me, consistent, and powered by the real and healthy me), I don't regret that experience (namely because of all the little perks and pieces I still have that are my proof I'm "*really* not MR" which is all I was after in the end) and after its all said and done, past being able to just be satisfied and content to say if it comes up that just "I'm smart enough", but I wouldn't do it again, even if I could, that's for sure.
(End of Post)
PS, while attending the university I took no notes. I listened. I first tried taking notes by hand with a pen and paper the way most of the other students did, then I conceded to typing them fullsized keyboard communicator I had on loan (with the speech turned off obviously but was still told it was a 'distraction") and I did so simply because thats what the other students did (taking notes) as part of my huge drive to 'be just like them'
I missed much that way, the act of attempting to write where I simply cannot and then trying to type at the same time as listen left me shorted, things missed and unheard. I finally fell back to what is natural to me and just sat and listened quietly, being nearly the only one (sans the occasional person with a minicassette recorder) in classrooms of about 30 and lecturehalls of about 500, amidst all the scurrying notetakers.
*The topic for this entry "Making Bread" and reference to 'crumbs' come from what I felt was a very apt analogy of recent events that given to me by an interested party (and used with permission).
(Start of Post)
I started to type on a typewriter (and meangfully) for the first time when I was just short of 30 years old - the state of sped-up frenzy that was then that year I was 30 and then partially into being 31 (with barely any break in the acceleration even after that) of in approximately a 12 month period of going from a daily routine of going to a sheltered workshop, coming home to the grouphome and and live as a presumed mentally retarded person with an IQ around 20 to communicating, the treatment I received from others entirely changing, being bombarded with ADL (adult daily living) skills towards the goal of having my own apartment as soon as I expressed this desired goal, to attending a selective-admissions university, a second move then to this city and apartment I live in now.. there was so much that year I can't begin to think of it all in one setting.. I literally had at least several decades if not a lifetime packed into that year or so and at lightyear speed, this is as close as I can imagine this 'no dead time' experience as I can imagine a person could have. The result is it trigger a mental illness in me known as Bipolar disorder and hypo-manic/manic episodes. I know the current theory is that for a person to have a mental illness the disposition for it has to be inside of you waiting for something to set it off, to be the catalyst, well that was certainly it then.
While in that manic state of mind (which I was not aware of until afterwards, evidently a neuropsychiatrist who'd been my doctor since the regional center picked right up on it but neglected to tell me until after the fact, I doubt it would have made any difference anyway, people had said I'd had a miracle and was having 'miracle after miracle' and yet another movie I heard "you are just like" is one named "Rudy" although the character in that movie isn't autistic) and I believed all that miracle stuff to the point I think if anyone had said "excuse me but you are having a mental illness and that's why you can do all these amazing things" (like the academia and such that I am convinced I am not capable of in a normal state of mind) I wouldn't have believed it, I 'was having miracles, dammit' on a sort of preordained mission from God or something there, or so I thought (and raging deadly homocidally furious the whole time, due to the certain very traumatic thing that happened at the sheltered workshop that year that if any single event could be pointed to that 'set me off' that was it). I decided I was 'a genius' (and people saying that I was and supporting that belief and behaving as if 'genius' was a relevant and 'the end all be all' thing certainly fostered and supported this and wasn't helping matters) I verbally spoke an entire 'speech' at a dinner held for me as "Consumer of the Year' at the DRC, even if it was only a two sentence 'speech' that went like this: "We are in your schools, we are in your universities, and we are in your world, its our world too and we are here to stay. Thank you" (I was inspired to write this speech by the children's cartoon "Horton Hears a Who")
that's is by far the longest string of words I've ever vocalized in my entire life let alone understandably so... Yes it was me and I did them and even if during the throes of mental illness still pretty amazing stuff for me (made the dean's list, into all honors(accelerated/gifted) classes at the "honors college' on campus, membership to phi beta kappa (GPA based sorority) got accepted to even fancier schools I'd never attend but qualifed for (the University of Michigan being one that stands out in my mind), qualified for things like "Mensa' and the "Prometheus club" etc... I can look back and feel accomplished, yeah that was me that did that.. sort've.. a mentally ill me, but still me, purely adrenaline and rage powered (other people get adrenaline and lift vw's and toyotas off of loved ones, evidently I do mental feats I can't ordinarly, go figure) but I wouldn't want to do it again
I was about as miserable during my rage-fueled 'genius' experience as a person could possibly be.
I eventually 'bottomed out' in the form of literally one day waking up one morning and being if not exactly 'catatonic' then something extremely close to it, which started me into this other part of 'bipolar disorder' (and why its called that) a huge massive (and equally mentally ill and somewhat delusional at that end as well) depression. That part was so clearly 'not cool' and realy hurt and was the part that caused that doctor to finally happen to tell me (and with an added thrown in "I thought you knew".. well at depression's end I sure did anyway!) and that's how my major sped-up-adventure came to an end and I discovered what it had actually been and that I had this 'other thing' now (a bipolar disorder, which since then has been disputed by other doctors and counselor guys because there's been no other since of it since.. I kind of think I had some sort of one-trip deal there with it, I hope that's all of it I'll ever have) after quite some time balanced out to about where I am now.
I'm healthier and 'regressed a bit' in that I'm not capable of all that so much now (but I'm back to a level of *functioning* in another way that's more important and that is realistic for me, consistent, and powered by the real and healthy me), I don't regret that experience (namely because of all the little perks and pieces I still have that are my proof I'm "*really* not MR" which is all I was after in the end) and after its all said and done, past being able to just be satisfied and content to say if it comes up that just "I'm smart enough", but I wouldn't do it again, even if I could, that's for sure.
(End of Post)
PS, while attending the university I took no notes. I listened. I first tried taking notes by hand with a pen and paper the way most of the other students did, then I conceded to typing them fullsized keyboard communicator I had on loan (with the speech turned off obviously but was still told it was a 'distraction") and I did so simply because thats what the other students did (taking notes) as part of my huge drive to 'be just like them'
I missed much that way, the act of attempting to write where I simply cannot and then trying to type at the same time as listen left me shorted, things missed and unheard. I finally fell back to what is natural to me and just sat and listened quietly, being nearly the only one (sans the occasional person with a minicassette recorder) in classrooms of about 30 and lecturehalls of about 500, amidst all the scurrying notetakers.
*The topic for this entry "Making Bread" and reference to 'crumbs' come from what I felt was a very apt analogy of recent events that given to me by an interested party (and used with permission).
