Are You An Accident Prone Writer? I Know I Am. 📝

The Stranger and the "A" Word

Recently, someone introduced herself to me and then immediately asked what I do. When I mentioned living life immersed in the Autism Spectrum (Asperger's), this stranger gave me quite the blank stare. She left me wondering if she thought Asperger's was a myth. Or that she felt living life as a Neurotypical is "better than". And that my career as a writer and advocate was "less than". But she didn't utter anything other than a few barely audible words. Somehow mentioning the "A" word left her speechless. I wanted to tell her she'll catch flies with a mouth open wide like that. But, I didn't. I was in church. And so was she. And I'm striving to be better than that. Maybe she merely didn't know how to respond? Still, there are far too many who will never "get it" and that...gets me.

Cerro de los Siete Colores “The Hill of Seven Colors” | #Geology #GeologyPage #Argentina

Cerro de los Siete Colores (The Hill of Seven Colors) is one of the hills bordering the Quebrada de Purmamarca which is in turn is a western branch of the Quebrada de Humahuaca up to Cuesta del Lipán, in Jujuy Province, Argentina.

Geology Page www.geologypage.com

Run with the Stars

I’m a writer, a published author. This reality humbles me. But lately I feel like I’m running a million miles an hour and making as much progress as someone trying to cross a finish line on a treadmill.

Getting this third manuscript pulled together has taken much longer than I ever anticipated. And that’s just to get it ready for submission (for consideration). Most of the reasons for this slow down are varied and valid. Shifting gears from creative nonfiction to fiction is an adjustment; one I underestimated. Life also happens and sometimes won’t take a backseat to anything. But there are other aspects I can control, instead of letting them run the schedule.

One thing my Aspergirl pointed out to me in the middle of all this was how this MS read more like naked retelling of events rather than allowing the reader a true glimpse into a new world. Her advice woke me up. It made me realize as much as I love writing, I had become stale. It explained why the last handful of articles I wrote feels flat. I’m grateful for her and her insight. I know what I needed to fix this; I needed to reacquaint myself with nature.

Can you relate?

Sometimes writing means we spend too much time ignoring our senses. We become dull and lack sheen. Our minds become hungry for stimulation a keyboard and laptop screen will never be able to provide. We need to step away and step outside, or at least peer out the window. We need to feel the breeze tousle our hair, to watch the leaves swirl about when a storm is heading our way. To sense the electricity in the air before the sky opens and drenches the dry grass. To hear the rapping of the rains against our windows, hoping we remembered to close everything up tight. To feel ourselves tense up when thunder makes our home feel like it will expand and contract with each burst.

In other words, our bodies as well as our minds need to know we are, indeed, alive. This life will be reflected in our writing, as well as any deadness that lingers inside.

~Julie

Yes, I see in color. Several years back I learned not everyone can, and there are those who don’t really see any images in their minds. We all think and recall things differently. I think that’s pretty cool.

Some attach other senses to memory, such as associating words with flavor. In other words, if you are a fellow synesthete your senses are wired differently.

Synesthesia. I like to think of it as a super power.

About me. About this tumblr.

For the curious, I am first and foremost an individual, like you. My thoughts are my own, which might make a devout marketer cringe. After too many years of “worrying what others think” I’m trying to live more of life unfiltered. This tumblr is an exercise in doing just that.

I’m also real. Posts you see here are written by me, not an assistant. Or a bot. Or even aliens. This means there will be typos and bad grammar at times. (This is why authors have editors. We’re hardly perfect although a few authors claim to be gods.)

Personally, I believe we are all unique and should have the freedom to be who we are. All too often others find a way to force us encourage us to be more “like them”. I tried that. It sucks. It kills you slowly from the inside out. Sure, it can take a while to find out who you are, but we also change over time. Just be real. “You do you” and have peace with that. (And don’t hurt anyone, ‘kay?) Let’s keep things peaceful and do no harm. And let’s respect each other.

I am an author, really. My book, Asperger’s in Pink, is my first book. I’m honored it’s been read all over the globe, and I’m humbled it has helped many. That’s the thing - I do this writing-advocacy bit because it’s where my passion lies. Of course, my husband would love a paycheck to go with that, but, hey, ya can’t have everything?

Or can you? Hmm...

Other than Asperger’s, I’ll share what’s on my mind. That often involves our fur-butt Yorkie, coffee and whatever else. Again, this is a real person here. And, like you, I’m multi-dimensional.

~Julie

AspieCon is part Aspergers Convention, part resource fair. There a several panels, activities, CosPlay, D&D and more!

mood: i want to read a story exactly like one of my favorite stories i’ve read a thousand times but not THAT story because i’ve read it a thousand times and i want to read a new one but it should be exactly like this one.

it takes me 3-7 business days to process my feelings

To Those Who Treat Me Badly Because Of My Autism...

Here is a little something for every idiot that has decided to either insult or exclude me because of my autism or say I didn’t have it at all:

You are an idiot. You are rude. You are an indecent human being that needs to learn that no one cares what you think. I will admit that I am weird, but personally, I think you are the weirder one for deciding to pick on someone who did nothing to you. You call me a “retard”, but apparently you are the one who can’t use your brain properly. Because if you could, you would know not to say the things that you do. But since you obviously don’t know, here is a little education for you since you had your head too far up your ass to notice a single thing in school.

I am autistic. That does not mean I am any less intelligent than you. In fact, I am obviously more intelligent. I do think differently, however. Sometimes things don’t make sense to me the first time, so I need to hear it again. It isn’t that I was too stupid to understand, it is that my brain can be chaotic at times and it drowns out your words. Sometimes my thoughts jumble and don’t come out right when I talk. That doesn’t mean my thoughts aren’t there, it means my spoken words can’t convey the complexity in my mind at that moment. My eyes don’t meet yours very often, it feels awkward to me. That doesn’t mean that I cannot see what you do or hear what you say, I am quite observant even with earbuds in and downcast eyes. I can likely tell you how many posts are on the section of fence in front of me (26, if you were wondering) but not your eye color, because guess what, staring into someone’s eyes is fucking weird if you actually think about it. It is kinda like staring at their nose or elbow. Seriously, what if elbow staring was normal? See my point?

Now, I know I can be a bit dysfunctional at times. My ears are sensitive and loud sounds can scare me and make me panic. My senses don’t like to be stimulated at the same time, so touching me when it is loud or even when I am just trying to process a conversation or I am already touching something can really overwhelm me. Just because you wouldn’t be doesn’t mean that I’m not, so please respect that and listen to me when I say things bother me. Furthermore, do not make fun of me for it, that just makes you an asshole. I didn’t choose to have this problem. Do you think it is fun to have meltdowns in public? Do you think I just decided I wanted normal things to be downright painful? Because I really didn’t. No one would choose this. On the topic of things I did not choose, I also did not choose to be socially inadequate. I actually worry a lot about what people think of me, so I certainly would not choose to exhibit weird behaviors. I try very hard to hide them and mimic everyone else, but it is unspeakably difficult and tiring, so sometimes I get things wrong. As the day goes on, my acting skills get worn out and more of who I really am starts to show through the “normal” mask I put on. Believe me, I am well aware that rocking or hitting my hands together or taking something way too literally is weird. It hurts that I am weird. I know I accidentally hurt people’s feelings or react incorrectly to things that they say. It hurts me that I am so weird. Believe me when I say that I beat myself up more than you ever could, so there is no reason for you to remind me of the failings that I am perfectly aware of. Now for telling me I am not autistic. Newsflash, I am. Even when I was self-diagnosed, I was very much an autistic person. Trying to tell me how “normal” I am in certain regards is basically offensive. Do not try to paint over my autism. Do not question my validity as an autistic person. This is the only thing that has ever explained me. This diagnosis is like finally learning the other half of my name. It has made me more whole than I have ever been before. Please don’t steal that from me. I do not want to question myself and this explanation I have found, and I do not want to have to justify myself to you. I don’t know if you know you are being a dick or if you think I want to hear how “normal” I am, but trying to paint me as a “normal person” just makes me feel like I am not valid. Maybe I seem like everyone else sometimes, but I am not like that all the time. And until you find a way to go inside my head and see my thoughts and how much I struggle to act the way I am expected to, you have no right to define my “functionality” (which is a stupid word anyway). When I am having a meltdown or I lose my words or I just get everything wrong, don’t even start with “but you were normal earlier”. I was never “normal”, your experience with me was normal. There is a big difference. Do not define me by your casual observation or what you want me to be. Do not pain me with a color I am not and do not put me in a box I do not belong in. Do not tell me how to refer to myself or who I can be. Do not try to find me a cure to something that I don’t want fixed. I am autistic. Now shut up and deal with it.