Category Archives: Book

Autism

Reading up on various definitions, I’m most certainly on the autism spectrum. I don’t consider myself high functioning – just functional. The time for most classic signs to emerge are during early childhood. I found a collection of books on how to handle a “gifted” child on the bottom shelf of the bookcase when I was old enough to read. I come from very logical parents so my restrictive behavior was treated as an advantage. I have reasons for everything I do. And I do mean everything. I can’t make decisions without a reason.  And when it comes to social dysfunction I am the veritable poster child. Continue reading Autism

A Nice Boy

My date last night was pleasant. He’s a persistent fellow. Kept in touch with me on Tinder for weeks, a notoriously inconsistent medium. Rewarding dedication, we met in person and chatted about all types of things. He let me ask questions about growing up in another culture and I talked intelligently about yoga with another human for the first time in months. His interest in me seems genuine, even if it’s misplaced. Overall the experience was a 5 of 10 – mainly because we were at the Mecca and that adds an automatic +2 to any situation. Continue reading A Nice Boy

Rule #4

Rule number one is Never Go Back and usually the easiest to follow. A rift in any relationship puts a wake between two people. Left to our own devices each party floats away in their own direction. Well, that would be the natural course of things if human egos and emotional dysfunction didn’t get in the way.  We desperately paddle against the tides in an effort to control fate. Strong feelings are even harder to ignore when they are irrational. Not pursuing feelings so tangible I can taste them feels too much like doing nothing. In order to follow Rule #1, I have to stay looking forward even when I rather lose myself in someone’s eyes. Continue reading Rule #4

Appearances

I don’t know what I look like most of the time.  For the longest time, number charts and simple ratios had me convinced I’m obese.  The fancy word for it is body dysmorphia but I avoid using medical terms whenever I can.  A diagnosis for thought patterns is only necessary if the problem makes you see a doctor about it.  Even though I’ve been depressed my entire life I didn’t call it depression until after treatment.  Sort of like how you’re not an alcoholic until you decide it’s true.  Just like how you can’t help someone until they want help.  Continue reading Appearances

Parasitic

When I feel this way I know I’m leaking energy.  Something’s not right in my flow and to “go with it” is rough on me.  Knowing my own body, heart, mind and soul it’s easy to feel foreign things creeping in under the carpet.  Insinuating themselves into my psyche, speaking when not spoken to.  Chips on my shoulder, curving inward, biting my skin.  I was a Carrier.  Now I’m a rock.  No desire to move anymore.  A foundation so solid I’m gathering moss.  I can sense the parasites more easily now.  Continue reading Parasitic

Romancing A Stoner

I’m dating again. Partially out of boredom but also out of broke-dom. I can’t afford to hang out unless the other person is buying at least one of the rounds. I have attempted to hang out and not buy anything but that doesn’t cure the bore part of my doms. Unless the person I meet is super interesting. That’s not often the case.  Sometime this summer I forgot how to be alone in public.  Starting this project I knew the cost.  Solitude is easier some days than others.  Meeting new companions who show genuine interest only makes the disparity of loneliness even more stark.  Fortunately, the asshat dates make up for that with consistent moments of gratitude for my independent lifestyle.  Continue reading Romancing A Stoner

Art vs. Performance

I’ve had to say it a few times so just to clear things up – I am not a performer. I have been seen on stage and occasionally I’ve done well up there. This is all in spite of my debilitating stage fright and complete insecurity. I feel like Marta Kauffman trying to interact with the Friends.  I don’t belong behind the microphone no matter how compelling my raw emotions might be.  I recognize the performance art I create.  I feel like there’s a confusion between what is art and what is performance.  If you don’t know how my mind works it’s easy to mistake me for an actress at times. Continue reading Art vs. Performance

What’s My Name Bitch

No one really knows.  Not knowing names keeps me level with everyone.  I don’t get too attached.  I’d rather know your dog’s name.  I’m more likely to like your dog.  The people I get along with are usually dog owners.  My idea of interesting conversation makes most people uncomfortable.  It’s like a rabbit hole and if you aren’t used to free-falling within a stranger’s consciousness it can be a little overwhelming at times.  But that’s when I feel the most connection, that point where most shy away. Continue reading What’s My Name Bitch

Crazy Talk

I’m legit crazy. I’ve taken Prozac for the past two and half years to combat my ailment. I have another drug I take to keep my mood level because I’m not bipolar but still have self-destructive mania if I can’t keep it together. My hope is to find regular employment and be self-sufficient. This feels so impossible I’ve started self-identifying as disabled on my job applications. It only seems fair to warn them about my crazy.  Continue reading Crazy Talk