Proof I CAN be BRIEF

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What to say? I could list the very nice things people have said about me or the worst things people have said about me. What I'd prefer is for my essays to speak for themselves. I'm human, I have human frailties. Let's let it go at that, eh? (Goal beginning 9/2011: when able, publish one essay a week. Both light-hearted and serious fare. Join in the conversation!) Blog Archive on right.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Punk Rocker

Minnie Kate (Mays) Massie.  If Minnie Kate's name is found nowhere else on the World Wide Web, then at least her name may be found in an Internet search as long as this essay about a hot day in July remains online.

I'd known Minnie Kate many years before I found out that she carried a once very popular southern name of Minnie. What I knew her by was Grandma, Mom, and Miss Kate. Grandma was my ex-Y's grandmother. And mine too.

Monday, July 25, 2011

The Queen of Sheba

It's dog days of summer so I thought that perhaps I ought to focus on writing about summer topics. Forget stories about adventures in skiing and ice skating. (Wrote that just to cool you off.)

Worms. There's a summer topic for you. Though hardly the point of today's essay.

I spent the first 11 years of my life first in Naval housing and then in project-like apartment complexes. And what most of those places had in common in the 50's and 60's were kids. Lots of them.

While I cannot pin point when I realized I was an odd child out (okay, I can but that's a story for another time), it became super clear sometime after I moved into Parkway Terrace at age five, a brick-faced set of apartments that were probably 1940s era. One of the things I discovered after a while (attending school also helped in this discovery) is that children can be mean, particularly in a group. And though they can definitely be mean to each other, they seem to take extra delight in hurting things that are new to or different from them. And in their hive mind mentality they can be fascinated by difference and open to the suggestion to squash it. (Yes, indeed, The Lord of the Flies reflected my internal experience of children in groups.)

Thursday, July 21, 2011

The Dozen Drama Rules (or How to be a Drama Queen)

Watching the Australian drama series "McLeod's Daughters," I have come to better understand the rules of drama. Little did I know, until I starting watching this series, that dramas hold valuable lessons about life... my life.

When I was a kid, I'd watch dramas, though I admit that I found them annoyingly frustrating and didn't quite understand their appeal. Unless, of course, the viewer actually enjoyed feeling as wretched as the characters. After becoming a certifiable Pollyanna in my early twenties, dramas lost their appeal altogether, and I only had time for feel-good movies and comedies. And true to the maxim of life imitating art, I kept trying to cast myself into a feel-good life, or at least a comedy (which I may have very well succeeded).

Monday, July 18, 2011

Asperger's Face

"If you’ve met one person with autism,
you’ve met one person with autism." - Stephen Shore

Asperger's is on the autism spectrum*, and so if you've met one person with Asperger's you've met one person with Asperger's. Meaning, that people on just about any spectrum that defines any difference from the norm are as mixed a group as people in general. As a result, over generalizing and thinking you know what to expect when interacting with a person with Asperger's (AS) would be a prescription for misunderstanding.  Perhaps much more so than over generalizing and expecting that you know what to expect from most people in general. Though becoming educated about Asperger's, might make our worlds a little nicer and our ability to communicate with you a little better. That is, if you can keep yourself from believing that all Asperger's generalizations apply to all individuals with Asperger's, leaping to conclusions about our behavior, and turning your assumptions about us into facts when you are interacting with us.

As I may have mentioned previously (and may mention again), I received the Asperger's diagnosis later in life, which is typical of women (for possibly a variety of reasons that I won't go into here).  It's been strangely empowering to finally be making sense of so much of my history, and oddly frightening now that I have some vague idea of how people may experience me beyond what's been obvious to me.  Not to mention aspects about myself that I thought had to do with personality when they have more to do with my brain's wiring.  (I had a similar experience when I received an ADD diagnosis and learned the ins and outs of how ADD can affect behavior, but not quite so profound.)

Today's blog is about Asperger's Face in particular.  Something that many of us with AS may contend with to varying degrees. Search for that phrase and you probably will not find it, though it is acceptably descriptive for this essay. About as easy to wrap up a concept as, say, the word neurotypical.  (Neurotypical or NT is the term used to describe people who are not on the autism spectrum.)

Thursday, July 14, 2011

I Draw the Line at Fire Bombing

Sometimes I think my patience is legion.  I know.  Not long ago in Getting Back Up On the Horse That Threw You, I wrote about my impatience so it's likely I'm wrong in my word usage.  Perhaps it's my complacency that is legion.  Not the smug kind of satisfaction, but the uncritical kind, a "my life is so busy with other stuff to notice that I ought not be satisfied" sort of satisfaction, which may not be the sort of uncritical satisfaction the writers of that definition had in mind... or at least at 4:27 in the morning I'm thinking it's not.

:: Claire laughing at her sometimes totally wrong conception of word usage that could, if said to the wrong person get her in serious trouble as she never knew that complacent could mean smug satisfaction. Luckily, it's not a word she's bandied about. ::

Monday, July 11, 2011

Patience, Smatience

:: Blog Warning: Conditions Heavy, Proceed With Caution ::   This blog is not light.  It's a follow up to the light blog before it.  I'd appreciate your hanging in, as you never know when hanging in could save the life of someone you love, including yourself.  (Thursday's blog will find us back in the land of the light hearted.  Promise.)

In my previous blog Getting Back Up On the Horse That Threw You, I shared a bit of my struggle with developing patience when it comes to using my paw-like hands while wondering why patience can be such a variable commodity.  My friend Omrum helped me see that once I "accept things as they are, patience is already there.  Impatience has to do with having expectations--from others or from the self."

When looking up definitions for patience and deciding on one to use for that blog--"a good-natured tolerance of delay or incompetence" (www.audioenglish.net)--, a few other definitions captured my attention.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Getting Back Up On the Horse That Threw You

Note (for friends who read the bulk of this essay on Facebook in February): I've made a few adjustments, including a new ending.

We've all heard the saying, "patience is a virtue."  But what is patience and why is it such a variable commodity in most of our lives?  

One definition (www.audioenglish.net/dictionary/patience.htm) describes patience as "a good-natured tolerance of delay or incompetence."

Despite the occasional upset or gripe about pain or the ongoing challenge of having to repeat myself when I don't have the energy to spare, I believe I have had great patience coping with a chronic debilitating illness (reference ME/CFS, et al).  Mostly because what finally disabled me has been with me most of my life and impatience with it (or how other people responded to the inconvenience of accommodating my needs) would only have added to my suffering.  Taking a detached view, I see the human body as a variably gifted vessel. My patience with illness comes in part by my being thankful to my body for working so diligently on my behalf.

This has been a pretty huge lesson in patience.

Why then do I still struggle so much with impatience when it comes to certain areas of my life?

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Strangers in Cars

Years ago, while in my mid 20s and working a commissioned sales job (a story for another time), it was late and a relatively warm fall in Charlottesville, and I was recovering from a chemical exposure, feeling generally flu-like and weak though having to present as totally put together and healthy.  It was raining, and I had been driving through one of my favorite neighborhood streets in C'ville (as it is affectionately known).  Favorite streets are not hard to come by in Charlottesville, a place of rolling hills, which come alive in blooms in the spring time, and interesting Southern architecture.

This road was a favorite because at a certain bend, where I was stranded, there were large tree and azalea covered yards that gave the area a park-like feeling.  So there I am, standing under my umbrella dressed in my cotton and silk blend business suit and ostrich leather, taupe, strappy open-toed shoes, wet from head to toe, and wondering if I had the energy to walk around the neighborhood searching for a phone.  My car's tire was flat, and I simply did not have the strength to remove lugs nuts.  I tried; that's why I was wet.