That Isn't A Word or A Verb

I've mentioned before that several years ago my life was a lot like an episode of The Guild. So the following should come as no surprise. It's incredibly nerdy. Like, incredibly, incredibly nerdy. I'm also kind of drunk so I'm relying entirely on spellcheck to get us through this and even then my impulse to tell you this story is probably sketchy at best.

On that note, I apologize ahead of time if you read through all of this and aren't satisfied. I can't be on the ball all the time. Sometimes I have to write poorly or else you'd take my better blogs for granted. Or something. So yeah... on with it then. You've been forewarned, if you continue reading and don't like it it's now entirely your own fault.

Several years ago I was still playing an MMORPG by the name of SWG. Short for Star Wars Galaxies. I know, as far as MMORPGs go, the one based on Star Wars is by far the dorkiest. Judge me accordingly. Also during this time period the media was all in an uproar about this guy:

David Blaine doing what David Blaine does.

Notably his alleged ability to levitate. You could not even watch the news without seeing him at least three times during the broadcast. He was everywhere. So much so that spoofs were just waiting to happen, and they did of course. This is the internet after all, and this guy was honest comedy gold without even meaning to be.

It was back when this spoof was still brand new and under a thousand views that this story takes place. My guildmates and I were spending the typical Friday night in. Not because we didn't have social lives outside of the internet but because we chose to stay in. Back then the game was fantastic and the community was top notch. It didn't help that gaming was a much cheaper form of entertainment than going out for drinks or to see a movie.

Weekends often meant drinking games in game. Every time a bounty hunter lost to a Jedi, you took a drink. Every time you heard an ambient mouse droid, you took a drink. Every time you missed a shuttle, you took a drink. And so on and so forth. Considering that these sorts of things happened constantly in the game, you had the potential to be stupid drunk in no time.

One such time the guild and I were all dicking around at a shuttle port in Mos Eisley. Too drunk to go do anything else, we decided the best way to occupy our time as the universal evil Sith guild was to bunny hop around the shuttle. In SWG jumping was little more than an aesthetic. You didn't actually get enough lift to jump over any sort of obstacles. If there was a stick in your path you'd have to maneuver around it -- jumping did nothing to aid you. The action was altogether useless, the animation for it however was quite hilarious. Especially to a bunch of drunk people at 12AM on a Friday.

Eventually we had jumped so much that the game didn't know what to make of it. The result was that we were all now floating in really awkward positions. Immediately the obvious association was made. Only problem was I was too drunk to get the point across. Rather than, "Hey guys, look, I'm David Blaine!" what I said was, "LOL GAIS I'M DAVID PLANE!" Yeah, I actually said, "L-O-L."

Parapraxis? I don't know, maybe. I was drunk.

This lead to a spiral of events beyond anyone's control. Mostly everyone bastardizing David Blaine into David Plane and then turning David Plane into a verb of some weird sort so that we could proclaim to the world at large that we were David Planing. I don't remember if the denizens of Mos Eisley were as entertained by this as much as we all were, probably not, since we were usually murdering them. I imagine they didn't know what to make of our tomfoolery, actually. Especially since apparently the glitch was only client side and they could not see wtf we were talking about.

We sounded like a bunch of crazy people.

I do know that later that evening we David Planed (tm) into the cantina only to bust out in dance. You have to understand that we were basically unchallenged in PVP at the time, so to see us in such a large force was usually indicative of a massacre-about-to-happen. It was a role-play server, and RPers are serious business. No one expects shenanigans. As evident by the snarky person in the doorway, appalled by our decision to take a night off from murdering them. She would have preferred us in character, ripping out her intestines with a ceremonial dagger, I guess? Different strokes for different folks.

Not All Things That Buzz Are Bees

This morning was kind of, "meh," for me, so I begrudgingly went into the kitchen to make my oatmeal and tea. More out of necessity than enjoyment, which isn't usually the case. I then went into the computer room to eat and attempt to better my mood. When the internet failed me I decided to just let it go and begin my daily housework, but this only made me feel worse. Regardless I went about it anyway. By the time I got to the part where I water the plants, I was pretty much assured that my mood was just going to be dour all day.

Then I heard the terrible sound of buzzing. Terrible because this usually indicates a sizable wasp or bee about to murder my ass. "Great," I thought, "Just what I need: to spend my afternoon in the emergency room." Awesome. Frozen in terror, I slowly turn my eyes towards the sound only to find not a wasp or a bee, but a humming bird!

The same female humming bird who visits our feeder every day. Unlike me however, she knows no fear. Only curiosity. She doesn't flutter off or back away or anything. She just hovers about an inch away from my face, staring at me. So close that I can feel the wind from her wings in my hair.

She must have decided after some time of this that I'm not a threat to her, because she flits above my head and begins to drink from the feeder like I'm not even present. Still holding absolutely still, I stand there watching -- close enough to reach up and touch her if I so chose. Though I decided not to break her trust and simply observed until she had her fill and flew off.

I had been so enveloped in my crappy mood that I automatically assumed the worst. My mistake. Lesson learned.

In Relation...

I can hear again! Today this arrived in the mail from my mother 3000 miles away:

Ignore friend Cactus.

Finally after two long weeks I have rejoined the world of the hearing! My old hearing aid was a tiny ITE model, almost invisible when worn. This is a BTE hearing aid which while less discreet, actually provides a much better sense of sound. So, perhaps ironically, breaking my old hearing aid has actually improved my ability to communicate.

This couldn't have arrived at a better time. Well, unless it arrived instantly two weeks ago, I guess, but that's not realistic. Not being able to hear at all was really beginning to bum me out. Especially when we received Dune from Netflix last week only to discover there was no Closed Captioning option at the menu screen. No CC on a DVD? I thought that was standard? How disappointing.

Why in the world isn't everything CCed by now? It's all written in a script beforehand anyway. It's #^$%ing 2011. We have people LIVING IN SPACE.

Dear Mom,

You are an exemplary human being. Over the years you have displayed not only complete and utter selflessness but also saint-like patience and compassion. Both towards me and even complete strangers. I want you to know that while sometimes people may forget to say it, we're all thankful for your efforts. No matter how big or how small, you make a world of difference in so many lives. Every day.

Not only did you raise two children entirely on your own, you also continued your education and maintained a career to support us. Not a job. An actual career. You then went above and beyond the call of duty to better the world around you through local government office. You are a woman of great strength and courage: a heroine if ever there was one in this modern age.

So thank you, mom. Just for being who you are, no matter what.
I love you,
Inari

Next Blog

Have you ever hit the Next Blog link at the top of a blog before? I hadn't even noticed it until the other day when I was proof reading a post of mine (that's something I do -- proof read after having posted) and I was like, "What's this all?" Then I clicked it. It takes you to what seem to be randomly generated blogs, some of them worth reading, others not so much.

It made me realize that there are a lot, a lot, of house wives blogging about nothing whatsoever. Not in the amusing way that Seinfeld was a show about nothing, either. Just, quite frankly, rambling paragraph after paragraph without actually saying anything at all. Not even managing to imply whether their day was good or bad. Like house wifedom (tm) had completely void them of any actual opinions.

It was desperately boring. Also a little sad.

Not that my blogs are the best thing since sliced bread or anything, but I at least attempt to talk about actual topics and not just prattle on about nothing in particular. Not that everything I stumbled upon was bad. I did find some great blogs out there. Blogs written by imaginative people, genuinely interesting people, and well spoken people. I went so far as to subscribe to them, complete strangers, because I didn't realize just how rare these gems really were before.

I think my favorite is I Found Your Pen. A blog reuniting pen owners with their long lost writing utensils. Second place belongs to How To Accessorize With Tiny Birds. I don't feel the need to even need to explain that one to you.

After a while of hitting Next Blog suddenly everything was in Russian. I'm not sure why that happened, I know nothing of the mechanics behind Next Blog. Maybe after you hit it so many times in a row it assumes English is not your native language and starts trying to guess what your native language might be? I don't know. I wouldn't put it passed Google. I saw some intriguing pictures though. I am curious as to whether or not they'd be as intriguing if I could read the captions. Probably not, but that's okay. I cannot read the captions so I don't have to worry about it.

Anyway, I suggest you try the Next Blog button and see where it takes you. Just be forewarned that 90% of blogs with a family photo as the header will leave you bored to freaking tears. I advise you just immediately hit the Next Blog button again and spare yourself.

Your Tour Guide To Autism

Under usual circumstances the human brain is like a road map. While still largely unexplored and mysterious, we have managed to figure out that certain areas are used to accomplish certain tasks. Such as math, or art, or memorization. Though there may be minor differences between your map and the map the guy next to you is holding, such as different roads being highlighted or terrain detail -- largely your maps are the same. Maine is still Maine. Oregon will always be Oregon. Etc., etc.

For an autistic person this is not true. Maine may well be Illinois, and Oregon could be anything from Nevada to Atlantis, depending. Their brain works in a fundamentally different way. For example, the area normal people use to compute numbers may instead be an additional visual processing center, used for language comprehension, motor function, emotional response, or anything really. This is one of the reasons autistic children are either classified as handicapped or exceptionally brilliant. Opposite sides of the same coin.

While autism can certainly be a disability, it is not the same as mental retardation. Sure, if you sit two people down, one autistic and one normal, and tell them to solve the same maze the autistic person may take minutely longer to finish the maze. Not because they continually messed up or got lost, but because their brain defaulted to the most complicated route over the easiest. They saw their way through the maze at the same time you did, they just took the harder path. The autistic mind commonly overlooks the simple way for the one more mentally stimulating.

The path less traveled by.

Back to the road map comparison, because seriously, this is the best way I can think of to plainly explain everything. Turn Oregon into Louisiana and suddenly you aren't developing communication skills until the age of five or six. This is viewed as a problem. Understandably. Alternatively, turn Florida into Colorado and you're a child prodigy, doing advanced algebra before 2nd grade. This is considered genius. There are an infinite amount of possibilities.

Unfortunately the first is more common. The road map is so wildly different that it stifles development to a severe degree. You can't find your way from Michigan to Ohio even though they're supposed to be right next to each other because for some reason Texas is where Ohio is supposed to be. Whether this is because as a normal set of people, the parents and teachers simply aren't capable of 'making sense' to the autistic child, or because they are genuinely unreachable is something highly debated. No two professionals can ever seem to agree on this. Severely autistic children have been reached though, so I'm inclined to believe it's the former.

Occasionally though, it is mixed up in just such a way that the child can still be perceived as normal by others. Even above average in certain areas. This is because rather than having, say, two motor control centers and no language center (which is functionally useless and even confusing), you wind up with two or more language centers. Or mathematical computing centers. Or visual processing centers. Basically you are twice as good at something than you naturally should be without any practice whatsoever.

This is the category I fall into. During my preschool years, teachers began to notice I handled situations presented to me in a vastly different manner than my peers. I could read at a 3rd grade level but sometimes would just get lost and become unresponsive staring at an illustrated story book. Which is probably why I developed artistically so early on. I never cried for my parents when dropped off, and rarely smiled or expressed any other outward emotional response to stimuli. When asked my name, I didn't know it. I instead read off the ID numbers on my name tag. Like a robot.

I was kind of a creepy little girl.

To be fair, all of my family members had a different name for me at the time so the confusion had nothing to do with my autism. When I asked the teacher which name I should use, she told me to write down what was on my name tag. Which was already adhered to my shirt. When I looked down, the upside-down numbers were the first thing listed, so I presumed it was my identification. It was a swiftly corrected issue, though it would've been cool to be known as S-9 for short (the entire sequence was something like 13 digits and the first letter of your last name).

Though my oddities were not impairing my ability to learn or get along with the other children, teachers were for whatever reason concerned. I wasn't normal, whatever that is. I was a well-spoken child, reading newspapers at 3 and writing in both print and cursive before my brother who was 2 years older; none of which gave my family a moment's pause. Strangers found it weird and unsettling. I went to see several specialists.

In the end I was diagnosed with high functioning autism, on 2 separate occasions 10 years apart. The treatment for autism at this end of the spectrum is basically just emotional awareness training because for whatever reason, autistic children rarely seem to instinctively know how to respond to emotions -- a behavior most people develop as infants. Even if a baby does not know right away that she should smile when she is happy, she sees her parents smile when they are happy and emphatically understands that to be the correct response to happiness.

Autistic kids do not do this. The autistic mind defaults to logic, not emotion. They have to learn the correct response to emotions, both their own and other people's. This results in many socially awkward situations. Above average intelligence in one or more areas only serves to exacerbate the issue. Young children easily overlook social abnormalities. Once you become a teenager however, smiling when you're being chastised will only make people more angry with you. They don't understand that it isn't your fault and they definitely won't believe you when you try to tell them you weren't purposefully being a smart ass.

Sarcasm manifests itself as a self defense early on.

Then there are perception barriers. Which are much akin to language barriers between people of different nationalities. You have to remember that autistic people think in an entirely different way than you do. For instance when doctors instructed 3 year old me to put the bear under the box, this was the outcome:

I am a master of balance!

It isn't an incorrect answer. It certainly isn't a sign of ignorance. It's just a totally different way of perceiving intent and meaning. Most people would not try to balance the box on top of the bear because it is more difficult to do so. The bear is however still technically under the box.

Furthermore when you say one thing but mean another, the autistic mind will usually automatically conclude the most logical of the choices. Even if it makes the least amount of sense given the person saying it (such as an unreasonable customer or crazy person). On that same note, autistic individuals are usually uncomfortably honest with people. They see little benefit to lying, even if it is to spare someone's feelings. If your jeans make you look fat and you ask a person with autism if your jeans make you look fat -- they're going to say, "Yes." This not only makes strangers uncomfortable and occasionally pisses off a friend, it also makes you extremely bad at poker.

I find the most challenging part of being autistic being interrupted. Adjusting to unexpected changes isn't easy for anyone with autism. Once you set your mind to something altering the course isn't just irritating beyond belief -- it's almost completely unacceptable. This can be triggered by something as simple as planning on going to the grocery store only to change plans at the last minute and order a pizza or sitting down to play a video game only for a friend to unexpectedly drop by. I do my best not to outwardly show my frustration, as it's really unwarranted and logically I am aware of that. But it still exists. Sometimes I find it easier if I expect I'll be interrupted to simply not do anything at all. Which is extremely unproductive.

Autism is another one of those things popularly misrepresented by the media, which seems only to focus on the most disabling cases they can find. As a result when you mention autism people automatically jump to thoughts about screaming, flailing, uncontrollable children who cannot form coherent words. While it can be a crippling condition for some people, that is not always the case. Not all autism needs to be cured. Plenty of people with autism live fairly ordinary, productive lives. So if you are a parent or sibling of an autistic child, don't despair. Just be patient and see where it heads. If you find it too overwhelming or foreign to deal with alone, there are plenty of organizations in existence these days to assist you. Back in the 80's you were pretty much on your own.

Most people who know me don't even realize. They just think I'm quirky. Then again, most people who know me didn't realize I was deaf either, until I told them. Compensationari? Maybe.

P.S. Vaccinations will not give your babies autism. You don't catch autism like the flu. It's not contagious.

Strange Little Boy

There is this little boy who spends vast amounts of time by himself out in the courtyard in front of our apartment. All the other boys and girls are in school, but he is still to young to go. I have no idea where his parents are, I don't think I have ever actually met or even seen them.

One of our neighbors also keeps an outdoor cat named Lilith. I swear to you this is relevant to the story. She's a sweet, tiny little thing. Kind of starved for attention. Often times she will see Aaron or I outside and follow us around until we go back into the house, knowing we'll pet her and possibly give her a treat.

One such time, she was following me back from the car and the two of us crossed paths with the little boy who was sitting in the grass. "Is that your cat?" he asks.
"No, she's not my cat."
"Are you sure?"
I blink, "...Yes."
"Oh."
"She's lives right over there though," I point, "Her name is Lilith."
"One time I petted her."
"She is a nice cat."
"Yeah."

We then sort of stared awkwardly at each other while the cat rubbed all over my legs in silence. After a minute of this, realizing no one is going to say another word, I turn and go inside. Lilith follows me and I can't help but wonder if the little boy now thinks I'm a liar. I don't turn around to check. I half expected to hear him say, "Are you my mummy?" by that point.

Aaron's encounter is even better.

Aaron has a large trench coat. He usually wears it to class when it is rainy. Last week we saw our first rain of the season here in California, so naturally he donned the trench coat to class. Since the sun is still out when he leaves this time of year, he was also wearing his sun glasses. I remarked as he was leaving the house, "You totally look like a bad ass." He chuckled and departed.

The little boy was out in the courtyard as he left. As they crossed paths the kid stares up at him in wide-eyed wonder and says, "Whoa. Doctor professor!" I imagine he said it like Keanu Reeves in The Matrix, but I don't know for certain. Aaron wasn't sure how to respond in that moment, so he just marched on feeling even more like a bad ass and fulfilling the role of Doctor Professor. Whatever that even means.

Must be pretty rad to be both a doctor and a professor.