textures

OK, so last week (also known as Tuesday, remind me not to have weekends out while feeling smug), the post was a little dark and unpleasant, and as funny as a dead badger in a birthday cake. In a change of pace, I think we'll go with something a bit odd, and unusual but at the same time mostly familiar, because we're all weird.

I am horribly adverse to smell, with a fairly sensitive sense of smell. Now, dad has this too, so I'm assuming its genetic, and I do enjoy it as my super power, because if my Aspy traits have yet to make me an idiot savant who can add complex numbers and know my 56th birthday is a Tuesday (I'm guessing here, but if I'm right BOOYA! guess we can ignore the rest of this sentence), then they have yet to manifest themselves.

I can tell a valeted room has had a smoker in it, I can whiff dinner down the road, and I cannot stay in Lush for long. I end up being the boyfriend stood out side (while my partner no doubt runs wild inside with a credit card selling our future to the devil for lavender scented bath bombs and never ending candles). Last time I went in voluntarily I spent exactly two minutes and found the first bath bomb that looked vaguely interesting, grabbed it, threw money at the general direction of the cash register and ran. It's not that I get overwhelmed, as such, but i begin to get the cloying smell up my nose and it causes me to feel nauseated. It's great. So I'd rather be outside, rather than queasy.

The same goes for texture. I prefer soft cotton, mostly in bedding. I can't stand cheap silk, or generally silk, texture bedding. My mother has pillow cases with  faux fur strips and I need to flip it over and sleep on the clear side (there I said it, watch her stop reading), equally fur pillows put me off. I like my bedding and it better be 100% comfy and soft because I am the highest level of under cover agent and I swear to Zod if I need to be out of bed it better be work or food. And prehaps not even the second one.  

I only mention all this, because Lord knows I'm not famous enough yet to have random people mail me bedding, because the other half went out and got silk bedding. Not Cheap silk bedding but still, I got back the dirty bedding out of the wash basket and wrapped myself in that, much to everyone Else's chagrin.

I'm also very keen on heavy bedding, sheets alone are for weirdos, although in hot summer nights even my love of being crushed into the mattress by massive blankets is beaten by the sweats. I actually don't know why, but i guess its a safety thing. I know some Aspies like being crushed to make them feel "normal". My skin isn't that sensitive, so nudity is fine, but I love the feeling of soft tight bedding.

Actually scratch that, I do have hyper sensitive skin when touched and dissolve into fits of giggles and shudders (shivers? I dunno, not a doctor) and often flinch before being touched. believing a lovers hand will be rough as sandpaper and heavy on me. One ex asked if I'd be beaten as a child. Apparently the answer that beatings continued until moral improved was "not funny" and "sick". Good for her.

Recently, I went to a job interview. Nothing fancy and I felt the sit down in a suit bit went fine, but showing me round the facilities put me off. They had a garish yellow and blue decor that made me feel deeply and weirdly uncomfortable. Nothing I could put my finger on, but even typing this makes my skin crawl. I just couldn't see myself working there, simply because the colours would make me feel off. So no new job, yet.........

Anyway, I'm off to bed, it's missing me already.....

Usual begging BS here: Facebook & Twitter

The Sociopath in Me

Quick note before I get into this topic, the blog will be changing as I go on, both in style, added whidges and content. If you follow my Twitter and Facebook (Plug, Plug), you'll already know that I wish to include more political posts as well as my own journey (there's only so much I can wax about my feet after all and on reflection I wouldn't be surprised if some people are thinking this is a foot fetish blog, and if there's one thing you never want is a fetish about MY feet). The reasons for more political posts are, you know, Trump and Brexit. I am a left leaning humanist, so if you don't like refugees and the EU and all that hippy consciousness then I suggest you skip these posts (I'll try to make to title obvious).

It is well documented that Aspergers and Sociopath are almost opposite in traits and have very little in common. However, this does not mean that parts don't over lap, or at least they don't in me. I have a well developed charm (it's the oIrish, I swear) and a fairly decent sense of humour. I only know these because I use them in work, or dating, or you know interacting with humanity. It's fairly clear from my blogging that I have no problem attracting girlfriends (the one I suggested I write the blog, the next one who distracted me from the blog and the current one, who's lost about the whole idea of blogging, three may not be a high score but I'm not studly macmuffin), but keeping them involves slightly more complex skills.

In my report, it states I can grasp the concept of a friend, but am unable to run the mechanics of friendship (you feed them and let them watch TV right?). The same, I at least believe, would apply to girlfriends (you feed them and let them mind your credit cards, right?). I'm like a toddler, I can be charming and sweet, but I'll lose interest once I have what I want, the precocious little scamp that I am. It has led at least one girlfriend call me a sociopath for being heartless and cold. It's not that I'm eaither of those, I just don't have the skills to build a relationship and do all those little things that make a relationship. Yeah, yeah typical man, insert woman not coming with a manual mysogonist joke here. Relationships take a whole load of little things, like friendship (so I'm told by numerous cutsey items in my local novelty gift shop), and it is doing those little things that I find hard without reminders, because that's not stereotypically male at all.

So, how does this superficial charm come in handy? Well, work. A bit of a charm offensives on customers does no harm at all but it also means that during inspections or any promotional work, the disabled worker can be trotted out and showcased as diversity in the workplace. My old manager used to joke that if I told everyone I was gay, it'd tick all the boxes and, I dunno, boost the company's image to the world, win us that all important award of the modern world: equal employment.  It gets a solid laugh in the office, even if it is cheap humour.

During inspections season I get brought out like a pinstriped dairy cow that makes chocolate milkshakes. I'm being superficial for laughs but I can't help but feel that I'm a boon to the company in diversity figures alone. The fact that I'm articulate and high functioning (go watch the video I shared to Facebook about that, it's funny because it's true) inspectors engage with me and think it's really nice the disabled employee is getting on so well. Of course they don't see the hours of work, the slog it has taken to get to this point, and I mostly forget the slog because I need space in my head for Simpsons quotes and D&D trivia (not that I've ever played a game, I'm not that lowbrow). Having a decent, if sarcastic sense of humour helps too, and like I said last week, British people are good at the dry wit stuff.

Going back to the girlfriend side, it's not that I'm heartless, it's that I don't feel love, or at least the jumble of confused emotions are unfamiliar to me and I am constantly unsure if it is love or just really bad gas. I made the girlfriend cry last night because I genuinely explained that I do not feel love, but I can fake it to a fair degree. It must be hard to fall in love with someone who cannot love you back, or at least will always be unsure of their feelings. My previous relationships, since diagnosis, I have explained the issue early on and those that can live with the idea that "I love you" is code for you are the one I hate the least and feeds my Aspy.

I'm getting de ja vu writing this, so i'm sure it's a topic I've covered before, but given my dementia and forgetfulness, its not  a bad topic to cover and I'm sure this will be updated regularly as people give me insight into my behaviour and traits.

Sorry about the delay, but no one reads this stuff anyway (hello MOTHER, I know you do) so no ones put out.

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Next week, textures........

3,355

This is an older post I never put up, for one reason or another. Either way, I found it in my drafts and on the back of a report that states approximately 150 people have been caught using Blue Badges, usually friends or family, illegally, I think a revision of the subject is perhaps in order. (Cheap lazy blogging FTW, the italic part is from the original post, posted on 5/11/15. Two whole years, no ones going to notice!)    

So, I have most likely stated that I do not get any benefits as I am too fit. I am very grateful that I am fit enough to be able to work and not require state support. However, occasionally I like to play the game of "am I entitled" (spoiler alert, I never am).

Every time I drive past a bank of disabled parking, I do wonder if I could get a Blue Badge (for anyone not in the UK, a disability pass). I decided to try my luck. NONE of the criteria apply to me, as I can walk fair distances and I don't have a carer.

As an aside, a rep brought pedometers (seriously, hows that for a name?) in for the staff. The title of the post is the amount of steps I took between 12:45 and 22:00 today.


About the Blue Badges, the use of one, for me, would be a perk, if you get such a thing with disability. I walk for Ireland in work, usually try not to run and get to sit down occasionally, so a chance to park close to a shop entrance or car park stairwell is simply laziness on my part. There's a legion of wheelchair users or others who need crutches to get around (or the million of other reason easy access parking is a key to giving someone independence) who will benefit from one more free wheelchair space, especially when they are at a premium. I already feel like a fraud enough without using a badge to take the one space outside my local shops that'll cut my walk time from stopping to the chocolate aisle.

I was able to walk, albeit with a stumbling unco-ordinated gait, and the utter destruction of my shoes, before I got my lovely orthotics. They don't eliminate my toe drag entirely but they certainly correct a lot, including my leg co-ordination. My right leg, even outside of supports, doesn't swing out to help support and I don't stoop, throwing my body forward to drag my legs after me. Why am I waxing lyrical about them again now? Its because I'm unimaginative and have nothing interesting to talk about, and today is two years since I got them. Sure, they've been modded and, as you know if you have begun following again the reason I have started this blog, recently had a refrub, including brand new strapping and padding.  They have ached more recently, and marked my feet, or in the case of my left foot, cut a nice little hole, but thats because I'm an idiot and didn't realise the ALL the strapping had been renewed, which makes sense. If one snaps, then the others are at risk of being compromised and its worth the extra twenty minutes of work to give them two more years of life. And in that life, keep my legs together and prevent my leeching more money from the NHS.

I do miss being able to make physio have to lie down by watching me walk, but that's the price to pay for being able to buy decent shoes and have semi silent running (I've noted that since the refurb they no longer click so I can now sneak around like a T-rex in a toy soldiers exbit). They feel like second skin, and being out and about without them feels like nudity. There have been days when I have peeled the legs and my socks off and it genuinely feels like im down to exposed muscle, its a very weird.

So, onto my guilty addendum to this little update on my new pals. Shoes (SURPRISE you thought it would be something else, didn't you!). I buy Doc Martens for work. Doc Martens have a policy of replacing shoes that wear out too fast. The orthotics have eliminated MOST of the toe drag, true, but not all of it and shoes do wear down, within about six month.
Receipt in hand, I get new shoes. I can't feel that it's just a little cheeky: "Hey, I'm physically built in such a way that I end up with my toes poking out of the shoes, let me take advantage of your very generous policy". Even without the receipt, I've had replacements. It's a little conflicting. Free shoes but taking advantage of generous returns policy/ its a big corporation it won't hurt them, grab what you can.
Yes, I am aware that plenty of corporations (and some people) see us as walking wallets that use up valuable resources and don't give them enough money, but that the same time morals and values are shared and spread by doing to others. Ok so a little gullible to think that me having a minor moral conflict about using a company policy to my benefit while there's bigger issues out in the world but seriously, I am allowed to indulge my humanity. I'm a cold, uncaring creature anyway, so it's nice when I get a spike of guilt, because mostly I need to physically think, remind myself, that empathy is a thing and I should be using it (about ten seconds after I've missed the cue to engage empathy and be nice, so it seems I'm clawing back to the "I'm a kind, thoughtful, regular human under this mask" position). I covet those feelings, commandments be damned, and it's a very weird pleasure to feel the overwhelming guilt that I cram back down, that never reaches my face, that never shows the world its little face (there's the occasional smile, when I KNOW I'm caught, but it lets me slip from peoples grasp, melting their ire).

Do I continue the free shoe bonanza? Yes, as long as I buy a new pair too, some \doc \marten shoes are too pretty to wear, honestly.

Will there be ore moral preaching? Of course, I'm a judgemental cynical ass hole, of course I'm going to dig through my morals and take pleasure in picking apart my Aspy traits.

Sleep tight.

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beyond offensive

So, this post did open with a joke about having no prep, and not keeping notes and how I was winging it. Yeah, well, I had just finished the saga the post became and BAM! the app died and lost my entire thing. I won't lie, there was am iPad smashing melt down and I needed a few hours to distract myself. I will try to remember the original content as much as possible but all that springs to mind is some cheap Donald Trump jokes (don't worry, after his treatment of the disabled, they're staying).

Anyway:

Four times a year I work on a camp site. It's a lot of fun, but it also involves long long days, mostly starting at about nine am (or sunrise, if there's a problem) and running right through to about three am. It can be hours of dullness that needs to be filled with self provided entertainment (mostly in the form of taking the piss out of colleagues and eating), interspersed with various odd jobs. It can be stressful, as issues arise and I resist slapping people (its not "customer friendly" apparently), but it is hours of fun. As you might imagine, this can create an environment where Aspy traits can be exacerbated, and expressed in a slightly less than ideal situations, as tiredness and stress are major factors in loss of control.

The boss, Bee, is a skilled people person and has a good knowledge of any and all of my conditions. She often spots the beginnings of melt down, or the effect of tiredness on my ability to interact with customers, and provide a level headed response (without the aforementioned slapping). In these instances, she knows I need to be relieved and sent to my tent for a good nights sleep (I'll be in my bunk is said more times in a day than I care to count, usually to something repulsive). She has come up with a name for this situation, my deterioration and increased need to get away from social situations. That phrase?

"Offensively Aspy"

Hold! Stop. No, do not jump to comments to tell me a blog I've set up to spread awareness about Cerebral Palsy Aspergers is using something you find upsetting. Communication in Aspergers is vital, as many Aspys miss social cues, detest sarcasm and simply can't read between the lines. (I've blogged about communication here). The phrase "offensively Aspy" is a fast, effective, short hand to sum up my current behaviour and is an easy instruction to both myself and the team for what has to happen next (I get to go eat and go to bed). I am, obviously, unaware that things are going badly, so a quick verbal cue gets me out before something goes really wrong and there's fences to mend (or ignore in grumpy ways).

So what happens when I hit peak traits? When there's no Bee to tell me to get to bed? I go completely non-verbal. Total silence. It's as if my jaw clamps shut, the nerves refuse to work and my voice box packs it in. At the same time, my internal voice ramps it up to eleven. I swear its Donald Trump acting like a lobotomised gorilla at a rally (OK, so acting like himself), loud enough for the person next to me to hear it. It's like my own boom box, and it goes right up my nose, because it says everything I wish I could verbalise. Last time it happened, my local shop worker commented that I always put food in for the Food Bank and how sweet I am for it. I COULDN'T PHYSICALLY THANK HER, so I smiled (and thanked her a few days later). I can guess this is how it feels to be non-verbal all the time, and as part of that I find texting valuable (have yet to text anyone "help I can't talk"). It's a basic coping mechanism used in non-verbal but because I have high functioning Aspergers, my verbal skills are generally good (I pass my sarcasm off as dry wit and the British eat it up). It also only lasts until after I've slept, so it's clearly a transient phenomenon (someone told me big words make me look clever).

So, thoughts to ponder.  In silence......

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Yes, I know i said Sunday, but after last weeks schedule issue, I'm putting it up now.....

  

New Cracked.com article

So, I've been reading Cracked articles since about five minutes after I discovered the internet. My friend Charlie sent me a link I'm sure he intended to freak me out with and I simply got engrossed. I love list articles (which I'm sure I've mentioned before, like Listverse).

Their newest list article is about living with Autism. I find it really relatable, except for the sarcasm bit because I use sarcasm regularly to prevent me actually saying nasty things in a nasty fashion. A friend I used to work with said her son hated sarcasm because he really didn't understand it, and I can see why. I often find real praise hard to understand because I can never tell if someone is being genuine or not. 

I suppose I do fall into the charming but not tactful type Hollywood loves, and looking at some of the stats posted about non verbal and low IQ people with autism it is obvious why Hollywood skips the reality and goes for the sugar coated 1%, the ones who seem adorable or sweet in their obsessions and hobbies and can control their screaming melt downs. No one wants to have a comedy or drama ruined by a faeces eating screaming human that many would associate with a horror flick. I guess its hard to portray a rounded character who, without good insight, many " regular people" would find distasteful. Many people with Autism disorder are more difficult to engage with and to build meaningful relationships. They take a more nuanced approach, more unorthodox approach and can have little positive results in return. Often their hobbies and interests aren't the inner workings of speakers, or something that others would consider at least a contribution to humanity, like astrophysics, but more like sheep or colours. 

Even those of us who are higher on the spectrum can have impenetrable hobbies, interests and social lives. With the creation of the internet, nerdom has become cool, mainstream and accepted, at least in the portrayal of Anime, Games conventions and even LARP. On the surface, people now readily accept that Dungeons and Dragons is a game to be enjoyed by all, but when complex math gets involved and we're rolling twenty sided dice and making jokes about 'TEH' (a common internet misspelling of the) it quickly alienates people. If you start waxing lyrical about your level 20 Mage with +69 staff of penetration at a dinner table, you're more likely to get condescending comments. No one needs to know the entire back story to Mrs Marvel, thank you......

The article touches nicely on emotion. I suppose I don't feel much emotion, possibly because I do bottle up what I feel or because, as my partner is currently stipulating, I'm a sociopath (more on that in another post). I do however, get angry. Screaming melt down angry. If the late, rediculously great Sir Terry Pratchett taught me anything (and who didn't learn that Luguage with legs is hilariously funny), it is that anger can be turned into greatness fuel. Stoke your fire with anger and anything is achievable, be it Sir Terry's anger at being told by teachers he'd never write well enough to get published or my own anger engine when I'm told I will never amount to anything. A screaming anger fit can be turned nicely into an hour of rapid productivity. I know that is only me, but still.

As for an autism charity, I've never fulled engaged with the UK one. I guess I don't need their support that much and they have their hands and rescources full trying to help and support those who do need it, so I can't comment on whether or not they view it as a disease to be cured. I know from my own interactions with healthcare there is certainly a focus on helping aspies control more outlandish parts of themselves, as least in public, so that we can fit in. While it might sound a bit eom goth, I think fitting in may not always be what's needed, but it certainly helps streamline the everyday activities of living.

The one thing on the list I haven't touched on is work, because this entire blog seems to stray back to that topic regularly and we don't need to hear more about it now.....

Be safe.