Day 65: Blue

three women

Blue is the color for April’s Autism Awareness Month. Proud moms are coloring their hair blue. Kids’ pictures on Facebook are tinted blue. People are donning blue ribbons and displaying blue symbols. I thought this short story, entitled Blue, was fitting for the cause.

I wrote this piece several years ago, as part of a manuscript.  I have since broken the manuscript into several short stories. Some of which I share on this blog.

Learning to write took a lot of hard work and practice. In the beginning, I wrote every single day (but one day in April) for a year. I was still a terrible writer then, in my opinion, entirely obsessed with my works, and reading my prose to anyone who would listen.

After the first year of writing, I spent another year editing. Then another year rewriting. Then another rewriting, yet again. I calculate that I spent fifteen hours on each page of the two hundred fifty pages. My biggest hinderance to writing was  my dyslexia and difficulty seeing errors. Also, I had a tendency to mix up words and punctuation, and a habit of rambling. (Smiling.)

I hope you enjoy this story.


Everything inside was blue—the seats, the ceiling, the floor, even the steering wheel.  I tugged on a string from the backseat cover, wrapping layer upon layer of blue taught around my finger.  This mid-afternoon it was my tiny index finger which turned a slight shade of indigo.

“Nothing to get hung about,” Mother sang out smiling happily, as if the coming rain had already washed away her worries.  She didn’t have a singing voice, never had, but the effort and soul were there, the wanting to sound good, and the need.  Inside the rearview mirror, her eyes the color of amaretto, glimmered, reflecting the narrowing sunlight. From the backseat I hummed along to Strawberry Fields Forever and jingled my clear-red plastic piggybank in the air, lifting him high and turning his gaze outside.

High atop the rolling grassy hills the enormous oaks stood like rows of fresh cut broccoli, rich and green—the bold color before the broccoli is boiled to a dull olive.  In the shadows of the day tall eucalyptus trees were sprinkled between the weathered fruit stands; their silvery leaves rustling, fluttering up and back, yielding to the autumn wind.  I winked one eye, then the next and then winked several times again to form patterns of gray, brown and green.  A gust of moist wind pushed in through the partially-opened side window, tossing Mother’s chestnut hair and bringing a sharp scent of diesel smoke and wet asphalt… (full story available in the book Everyday Aspergers)


© Everyday Aspergers, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

Day 64: All Things Feminine

I’ve named my new laptop Samantha Craft II. It’s not narcissistic, if that’s what you think, because Samantha Craft is my blogging name. Which only makes me pseudo-narcissistic.

I’m reporting to you from the comfort of my living room couch. I’ve removed myself from the dungeon of our study—a box-of-a-room with no windows, set in the center of our daylight basement. Daylight is not literal. I live in Washington State.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to have the office space, and a room that is entirely dedicated to computers, books, and piles of mundane paperwork. But with the surfacing of my vampire-like traits, (since moving here), my windowless office exaggerates my radically pale complexion and morbid (but intriguing) thoughts of luxury coffins.

I will be visiting my huge iMac computer (that I adore) soon. But for now, I write in blissful comfort. Truth be told, I do, in a slight way, feel like I’m cheating on my virtual iMac boyfriend. Though, I think I’d like to make my laptop a girl, only because we need more female energy in this house; and my laptop could feasibly be my new “Get up and go Gal,” since my best friend, who lived the next door over, moved to Connecticut!

I’m still suffering from abandonment issues. Sigh.

I am officially a lounge lizard. My tongue feels longer. I thought of posting a photo of my tongue, because it is substantially long and I can almost touch the tip of my nose. But who knows what type of weirdos are out there, what they might conclude. I don’t want anyone thinking I have a big, long nose!

(When I first wrote the sentence above, I accidentally substituted knows for nose. I crack myself up to no end.)

I sense Crazy Frog popping in with his quirkiness—something about wanting to make the laptop an actual female lizard and his potential mate for life.

I do sense this laptop has feminine energy. Although, I’m noticing the word feminine bothers me. Mainly because I’ve been indoctrinated with all of those feminine napkin commercials and advertisements since birth! Anyone else harbor word-issues as a result of massive advertisement campaigns?

I’ve discovered I’m not so strange after all! According to Live Science in cooperation with Scientific America, people are prone to assign a gender to inanimate objects and people see odd numbers as male and even numbers as female. Take that! You mental health professional of the past who raised a brow at the fact that number three IS a male! Seems I’m not such an odd duck after all. Or rather we are all odd ducks together.

By the way, if you Google feminine napkins, a lot of information about Cooties shows up!

Disposable menstrual pads grew from Benjamin Franklin’s invention designed to save soldiers with buckshot wounds.” Who knew!

This YouTube has an inappropriate word at the end. I just pretended I was at a comedy show.

My feelings aren’t so far off the mainstream when the whole feminine napkin icky-feeling-word is concerned.  In a research study, mentioned in Psychology Today, when a package of cookies in a shopping cart was touching a box of feminine napkins, participants viewed the shopping cart significantly less desirable, when compared to the other participants who had viewed the cart where the two packages were not touching.

More on Feminine:

While learning French in high school, and again in college, I was fascinated that the English language does not use gender nouns; and more so in awe that other languages do have gender nouns. By the way, I can only speak ten French words now and translate the one English sentence “I only eat the vegetables” into French.

In English all nouns are neutral and the gender is shown through the form of the word. However, in a quick review of some gender-based nouns, I’m realizing that oftentimes the female counter part is not used at all or implies a derogatory statement.

Take these for example:

actor – actress          (Actor is used often for both.)

bachelor – spinster    (Spinster…such a nice word.)

billy – nanny             (Have you ever hired a billy?)

bull – cow                (We eat the cow.)

dog – bitch               (No explanation needed.)

leopard – leopardess (Is that the sexy term for leopard?)

peacock – peahen     (I’ve been calling all those females peacocks!)

Le champion des dames (detail), 1451.
Martin Le France (1410-1461), Public domain. From: W. Schild: Die Maleficia der Hexenleut, 1997.

According to Maxson J. McDowell,

(Is that a cool name or what? Oh! That’s my iMac’s name! Yes, it is. Starting now.)

According to Maxson J. McDowell, trolls and witches represent repressed or split-off feminine.

That’s encouraging. (Sarcasm). Does that mean when I lose aspects of my feminine self I become a witch or troll? If that is the case, then I am firmly sticking with Princess Vampirette Abyss. Watch out ladies. Keep painting those fingernails, dying that hair, buying those push up bras, plucking those brows, shaving those pits—don’t turn into a troll.

My idea of feminine? On the Internet I found images of big busts, hour-glass figures, Marilyn Monroe, flesh, flowers, pale-skin, big lips…

Personally I like the YouTube I found of feminine burping collection. Although now, I swear my coffin-study, that I’ve now returned to, smells like pickles and beer.

Don’t blame me! You signed up for this!