communication

Day 131: The Crow in Me

| Aspergers Girls

I have recently formed a friendship with a woman with Aspergers, and I have to say, it is the easiest friendship I have ever had. Though it is long distance, we chat every day, sometimes for hours. What I notice about her are the same traits I notice about me. Our lives and our thinking are so parallel, it is almost creepy.

Essentially, we think and process the same way. We have the same worries. We see things in the same light. We both require the same  security in conversation. We need validation, and we give out the whole of ourselves. We are able to focus on one another entirely. Everything else can stop. We become priority. Talking to her is the easiest thing I’ve done in my life. She is genuine, open, and entirely honest. She analyzes everything she says before writing, and then analyzes it again after writing—just as I do. She frets over her words, as I do. She wonders whether she is good enough for a friend, too intense, too different. She over-compensates with love and compassion to be certain I feel safe and understood. She offers advice straight from the heart, only because she has a calling from God to do so. She sits on every word, measuring the potentiality for miscommunication and the probable consequences of her message. She spins and loops about what she has said, and how the words might affect our relationship. She thinks about me often throughout her day; I am never an afterthought. She loves me whole-heartedly. She knows when I need her to sit and be with me, and puts aside everything else in her life to show me she cares. She takes the time to write to me, no matter what is happening in her life. As soon as she knows I am available to chat, she comes my way with a smile, heart, or message. She is my soul-sister, mirroring me in every way, and I so love what I see.

Through my friendship with this special lady and through her comforting words expressing her own experience with friends, I am just beginning to understanding the difference between the way I communicate to friends I am passionate about and the way people without Aspergers communicate back to me. I am realizing that many times in my life, I was ultimately not rejected, but that my friends didn’t understand my communication style, misinterpreted my words and actions, and were actually incapable of duplicating my enthusiasm and dedicated attention.

I find this true today with another friendship I have formed with a very kind and loving person. Though this person is one of the sweetest souls I have met, at the same time, we communicate so entirely differently. This is no fault of anyone’s—and is solely the result of our brains being wired differently. Where I am as eager as a puppy to jump all over the conversation, day or night, anytime, anywhere, my new friend prioritizes, plans, evaluates, and places me within a schedule. Aspies generally don’t do that! We have this gift of focusing entirely on what we are interested in and what are hearts want at the moment. Everything, and I mean everything else in our world, disappears when we are wrapped up in our passion. Bills might not get paid, beds not made, pets not fed—we don’t neglect, we just forget as we are sucked into another realm.

To me this is a form of escape. I can do this with certain people, and my communication with them becomes my temporary haven away from all the stresses of the world—away from the constant overload of sensory input, and worries of everything that is shouting to be done, the continual spinning of thoughts, ideas, emotions, and need, the pounding fear of the world’s expectations and anticipated actions. In having a special friend, I am able to forget myself momentarily and be only a part of his or her world: just me on a stage with them, with everything else on hold. I’ve done this my entire life. And I do believe this aspect is a primary part of me, nothing to be fixed or changed; this is just me. Living on this planet, if I did not have opportunity to escape, I would surely hovel in a corner and never leave. This world is ultimately a very scary place for me.

I am also realizing that I hurt much more inside when I talk to people than when I talk to my new friend with Aspergers. This, again, is no one’s fault, and purely reflects the dynamics of two people with like minds joining verses two people with very different minds connecting. It does not matter how sensitive, caring, loving, pure and honest a friend is, if he or she doesn’t have Aspergers, he or she will never truly get me. That’s not to say I can’t have very fulfilling friendships with all types of people; it just means I know deep down inside that unless a person has a brain that functions like me, there will always be this piece about me that the other person will not understand. Whether he or she is aware of this makes no difference, because I am aware of this.

I am working through some hurt now. Trying to understand why my needs are entirely different than most people’s needs in a relationship. Backtracking through all the past times I overwhelmed, confused, or was misunderstood. I am acknowledging that broken relationship were not because of whom I am as a person. Broken relationships were a result of me communicating the only way I knew how.

Some of the things I’ve noticed happening in the new relationship I have with someone that does not have Aspergers:

1)      I am sad that my friend is not always able to talk to me at every moment of the day.

2)      I continually worry I over-shared, and at the same time cannot help myself from over-sharing. I get this overwhelming urge to share. And have this urgency about me to expose my truths, as if the world shall end tomorrow and if I don’t get my thoughts out, I shall die unknown and unheard.

3)      I want to know EVERYTHING about my friend. Every fear, love, past event, thought, experience.

4)      I wonder why the person has not answered my message in a timely fashion. (For me that would mean within a second of when I wrote the message, because I ought to be number one priority! Insert laughter here.)

5)      I question why the person wants to be my friend, as I am so intense, so prone to having my feelings hurt, in continual need of validation, and questioning my worth.

6)      I worry beyond worry that my friend does not see the purity of my heart. And when I am misunderstood a thousand daggers pierce my soul. For if my friend sees me as mean, manipulative, a liar, lacking compassion, closed-minded, angry, vengeful, demeaning, or the like, than I know he or she is not seeing me.

7)      I want to be seen. I want to open myself up like a book so the friend can read every single page and know my beauty. I want to shine so bright that my friend believes me when I say I love unconditionally.

8)      I try constantly to say the exact word. I fret over every sentence. If I am chatting online, I reread everything I wrote ten times, wondering if I chose the wrong words, wondering how the person will interpret, wondering if I am expressing the heart of me.

9)      I want to delete most of what I say. I sometimes have an odd sense of humor, or don’t get something, like a simple word, or simple explanation. My friend’s innocent comment can send me off the deep end, send me spiraling down to earth, with a heavy landing, so that I feel deadened and crushed inside.

10)   I find that I am so very innocent and naïve compared to other people. In conversation, I feel as if I am about the age of ten or even younger. A little girl still searching the eyes of the person I adore and wondering if he or she adores me. A little girl needed to be swept up and hugged and told how beautiful she is, how special, how loved. To know that I am unconditional accepted and very much appreciated. I long to be told, I love you, every few minutes, in order to feel safe, in order to understand I am not being judged, misinterpreted, or thought about in a “bad” light.

http://vi.sualize.us/

11)   I am just realizing I don’t really understand love at all. Love to me means something entirely different than to most people. I don’t understand the degrees of love, how love builds, how friendship starts out at one level, and then grows into love. I love all at once. This huge bundle of love. And I plop this love right down at my friend’s feet. If I didn’t feel that bundle of love, I wouldn’t be the person’s friend. It’s very simple to me. Of course I love you, you are my friend. What does like you a lot even mean? Does that mean I like you for now, and might always like you, but if you prove to be more special, I might consider loving you? That hurts me. The word like hurts me. If love is the end point, then why am I placed at the starting line? Why wouldn’t a friend love me from the very beginning? Can he or she not feel the same connection, bond, and love as me?

12)   I sometimes say things, hint things, and describe things that are very clear to me, and the other person doesn’t get what I am saying at all. I sometimes do things that take the whole of me, take so much risk, preparation, and forethought, but my actions aren’t met with the same extreme of emotions. Speaking to my friend sometimes is akin to tearing out my bleeding heart, setting my heart pounding on the table for my friend to see, and my friend casually walking by and saying, “Oh, that’s nice.” Only to then continue walking. I take out my heart and think the person will know, but my friend does not. My friend does not know that everything I say is a dynamic risk.

13)   I don’t know how to turn down my intensity. I don’t have light and carefree days. I don’t have a way to shut me down or dim my emotion. I don’t even have waves of love. Everything remains level at a very high extreme. Nothing is little or unimportant. Nothing downplayed. Nothing forgotten. Everything remembered and brought back up to the surface over and over for reanalysis. Scenarios are played out in the mind of how I could have said something better. How I could communicate clearer. How I should communicate less. How I should be less enthusiastic. I swing a harsh whip at my mind, slash and slash with should haves and could haves.

14)   Simple statements from my friend can send me spinning. What does that mean? Did I do something wrong? Did I blow this friendship? Was I too intense? What does my friend want me to say? How should I say this? What if I am wrong? What if I am misjudged? Did I say too much already? Should I laugh now? Should I offer support? Is advice okay? Am I a bore, a nuisance, a weirdo, too odd to keep around? Why is the conversation over? Why not talk more? Why am I not a priority? Am I not nice enough? Not kind enough? Not pretty enough?

15)   I cherish my friend to no end. I would walk the end of the earth for my friend. I love my friend. I hold my friend up high. I see the light within. I see the purity of heart. I go straight to the soul and relish in the beauty. I see the love within. I see the potentiality for greater communication and connection. I see so much, but am standing across a bridge with a cavernous pit between us. I long to cross the bridge, but the bridge is broken, and I can only stand alone and stare out into the distance, reaching, and longing to touch.

http://www.back-yard-birding.com/crows-in-indiana/

The crows are among the world’s most intelligent birds. Crows can be aggressive, quarrelsome, and sometimes playful. The voice once heard is not easily forgotten. They have an astounding range of calls. There language is complicated and still being discovered. They are excellent puzzle-sovers, have good memory, and quickly learn. They live in community, support their own, and love for life. They hold the spirit of kings.

Day 112: Collapsed Star

| Aspergers Girls

Collapsed Star

It was an ordinary night for a child who had grown accustomed to the unordinary.  My dog Justice trembled under the bed, while Led Zeppelin vibrated through the wall.  Inside the sheets, all wrapped up in Mother’s essence of bath oil and sandalwood, I tossed and turned.  Then I laid listless and awake—a lump of boredom. I could smell the funny smoke again and hear bottles clinking.

I pleaded with God, “Please make the people go away.”

All at once, a melodic voice called out, “Hello, Little Girl.”

But I knew the voice wasn’t God.

I was certain my God didn’t have a Jamaican accent and dreadlocks.  “We didn’t know you were in here, Pretty Lady.  I’m sorry if we woke you,” the stranger apologized, as he approached Mother’s bed.

I leaned over casually on my arm, wanting to seem mature and interesting enough to earn his attention. “You didn’t wake me,” I responded, with a fake yawn, tapping my little chin with my tiny fingers a few times.  I was accustomed to seeing strangers in the house, but not at my bedside.  Still, I wasn’t nervous in the slightest degree. I’d liked meeting Mother’s friends. They were all interesting in that odd way…

 

The rest of this story can be found in the book Everyday Aspergers

 

Based on true events © 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. https://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com

Day 104: Fire Ball and My BIG BRAIN

| Aspergers Girls

This is to give you a glimpse of what goes on in my mind. Not all the time, but enough of the time. I start thinking, and thinking, and thinking. All these thoughts below ran through my mind in the first twenty-minutes of our plane ride. I have to laugh at myself. Thanks for letting me ooze this out of my brain onto these pages. And I DO NOT expect you to read this all. Like I said, this is a sampling of MY BIG BRAIN.

Maui update: Wonderful, wonderful day. The sand feels so good on my feet. Watched the boys play in the waves. We got upgraded to a 2,000 square foot, ocean view penthouse for the first night. They had a raffle in the courtyard. About 125 people, 125 raffle tickets, and they drew five tickets. Out of the first four, three were each of my son’s tickets. What are the odds??? The force is with us.

Okay, here is my brain in high gear….don’t ask me to explain this.

The Fire Ball/Fire Mass

In the circumstance of two coming together in company, feelings arise. These feeling are both beneficial and non-beneficial. Because we choose our feelings based on illusion and limited perception, in turn, the element of choosing is either beneficial or non-beneficial.

There is no in between middle point or meeting point in considering variants of choosing. Choosing is not on a line. Choosing is neither good nor bad. Choosing is like the air. One does not look into the air and wonder what is between the air, or where air meets. Choosing is expansive, beyond human reasoning. This choosing is one of the gifts of humans. This choosing is powerful. As we choose as a collective, we generate energy into perceived reality. When the masses are choosing the same then the masses receive the same.

If choosing is not on a flat timeline and not based on evaluation or degree, and one cannot finger-point choosing, then where does choosing exist? Choosing cannot be applied a degree or numerical value, because choosing firstly carries no value, and secondly, choosing is a vast collective that cannot be pinned down at any moment. With the illusion of time, choosing does not exist. Remove the illusion of time, and choosing exists. Choosing is always, with no ending and no beginning. The masses choose continually. This choosing in time terms occurs every second, every half of a second, every hundredth of a second, and so on, into infinity. Thusly, choosing cannot be placed within the concept of time, only within the concept of infinite.

It is the collectives choosing that creates choosing. This collective choosing can be visualized as a fire ball. This fire ball moves continuously with heat and gases. The choosing moves within this ball, continually altering form and position. Our thoughts are our choosing. Thoughts move in the ball of circular continuous motion. There is no end, no beginning, no start, no completion. This fire ball fuels the reality that the collective sees. Ultimately, everything perceived through the recognized senses at this moment are fueled by the fire mass, and in turn everything perceived fuels the mass.

This fire mass is neither good nor bad, for no such named vibrations exists. The fire mass moves with what could be called beneficial and non-beneficial vibration. Non-beneficial does not imply bad, nor does beneficial imply good. Beneficial and non-beneficial are part of the fire mass; and as these two are within the mass, they are also within our choosing. Ultimately, beneficial and non-beneficial do not exist. If we were to apply bad to non-beneficial and good to beneficial then there is an instant separation, with one above the other, or one on the side of the other. These directions, of up or down, or negative or positive in degree, imply separation. Where there is separation of any form—be it word or thought—then there is an absence of unity. Unity has no opposite. Singular does not exist. Thus degrees of beneficial cannot exist.

What is beneficial and what is non-beneficial. Beneficial is vibration that expands and creates vibration that inspires growth. Thusly all things, all actions, all thought, all being is beneficial. For everything within this planet of existence inspires growth. Therefor non-beneficial grows within beneficial, just as beneficial stagnates (or ceases to create) inside non-beneficial. There is no separation of the two beneficials. Non-beneficial vibration implodes and creates vibration that inspires stagnation. Stagnation can be beneficial. Thusly, non-beneficial can be equated to beneficial. There is no opposite. They are as one, like all unity. They are part of the fire mass. We choose the words of beneficial or non-beneficial to communicate a variation in vibration, not a distinction in right or wrong.

One vibrating non-beneficial energy, which implodes and will be received as stagnant, with the inability to expand and grow, is beneficial to the one, to another one, and to the collective (fire mass). This is how: A person who is exhibiting non-beneficial energy will directly affect the fire mass. A person who is exhibiting non-beneficial energy will directly affect another person within the energy frequency. The person(s) affected will then have a choosing. The person will choose to vibrate with the non-beneficial stagnant energy or to vibrate with beneficial growth energy. There is no right or wrong. Whatever the choosing, the person(s) are learning and growing through the acceptance or transformation of non-beneficial energy. Persons who vibrate with non-beneficial energy are teachers, the same as persons who vibrate with beneficial energy. Each is a variant of the unity of love. Each is part of the fire mass.

There are lessons in every reflection viewed through the recognized senses. These lessons are a reflection within a reflection. It is vital to remember there is no bad or good. There is not good or bad energy. No good or bad reflection. Everything is a one and breathes as one. A non-beneficial reflection is a teacher, as is a beneficial reflection. Think of the one looking upon the one in the mirror. This one may choose to vibrate with beneficial energy upon viewing the reflection, or the one may choose to vibrate with non-beneficial energy upon viewing the reflection. This is the same for one looking upon another one. This one is reflection of the other one. What one sees is what the one chooses to see.

All at once we are either expanding in light or imploding away from light. This occurs outside our concept of time. Every glance into the reflection of illusion is fed back to the fire mass and then returned to the collective masses instantaneously. There is no time. Only union. This is not as a shooting star or rocket ship, where one energy is fueled down, and then another energy fueled back up. There is no up or down. Source and fire mass are within. Light is within. Thusly, the one is continually expanding and imploding. The fire mass is held by all light bearers. The unity is light bearers. All are light bearers. All are unity.

When one evaluates, judges, or analyzes another one, the one is choosing to send these thoughts directly to the one, to the other one, and to the fire mass. As in thought there exists no one.

When one believes the reality of, You make me feel, there is an instant separation. When one is able to step outside of self and practice as observer, then unity remains. With the absence and removal of the thought, You make me feel, there is a flow of transitioning from non-beneficial (stagnant) to beneficial (growing) vibration. The beneficial vibration expands the fire mass; the more one expands the illusion of reality, recognizes thought, and practices as observer, the more one expands beyond the senses, and the more the collective fire mass expands beyond the senses.

The flow of transition of thought into vibration into the fire ball (fire mass) may be observed in the following manner:

I am angry at you.

I am choosing to be angry at you.

I am choosing to be angry.

I am choosing to be.

I am choosing.

We are choosing.

We are.

In the first string of words (or string of vibrations), I am angry at you, one is choosing to be angry at another one.

In the second string of words, I am choosing to be angry at you, the one is releasing the belief of direct effect. The one is recognizing choice.

In the third string of words, I am choosing to be angry, the one is recognizing there is no distinction between one and the other one, and that all feelings stem from the fire mass. All feelings are a direct response from the vibration of the fire mass. The fire mass is held within one and held within the other, and held by the union of whole. Thusly, one feeling is not attached to only one.

In the fourth string of words, I am choosing to be, the one is recognizing the choosing and the absence of another one. The one is recognizing the absence of separation. In the absence of separation the illusion of blame does not exist.

In the fifth string of words, I am choosing, the one is releasing the sense of having to be in order to exist. In essence the one is detaching from the element of being and existing and viewing the one as choice.

In the sixth string of words, We are choosing, the one is recognizing the fire mass: that all choice Is collective. That all is a reflection.

In the seventh string of words, We are, the one (WE) has transitioned the illusion of reality, stepped beyond individuality, and is able to view the collective.

All strings of words can transition into the seventh level. Vibration at the seventh level is optimal. Those vibrating at the seventh level omit a vibration of growth, nurturing, and serenity. There is a calmness and a glow. The glow is spirit: the light of the fire ball. Thusly, the glow the one carries is the glow the unity or whole carries. Thusly, as the reflection glows as does the whole.

The seventh transition is seen in other form likewise.

I am ugly.

I am choosing ugly.

I am choosing.

I am choosing beauty.

I am beauty.

We are beauty.

We are.

Another:

That man is bothering me.

I am choosing for that man to bother me.

I am choosing bothered.

I am choosing serenity.

I am serenity.

We are serenity.

We are

Another:

I hope he likes me.

I am choosing to hope he likes me.

I am choosing likable.

I am choosing I am likeable

I am choosing we are likable.

We are likable.

We are.

Another:

What if she doesn’t think I am special?

I am choosing to fear she doesn’t think I am special.

I am choosing fear that I am not special.

I am choosing special.

I am choosing we are special.

We are special.

We are.

With practice, one can vibrate at the fourth and fifth level. The fifth and sixth level occur when one is able to accept the illusion of reality and experience the fire ball within, recognizing one is in truth WE.

There is no right or wrong in the transition of seven. One will experience the vibration of the transition as beneficial or non-beneficial. In beneficial transition, there will be a releasing of separateness and a growth of collective. In non-beneficial transition, the separateness will stagnate. Separateness cannot grow; there exists nothing beyond the wall of separateness. Once separate, in all ways separate. Once whole, in all ways whole.

The transition of non-seven will create non-beneficial vibration for the fire mass. In example, the string of words below demonstrates the stream of vibration feeding non-beneficial vibration. Again, this is not bad or good. This is stagnation which serves a purpose, as all vibrations serve a purpose.

It is vital to remember what one holds as truth for one holds for truth as all. The one who sees his one as ugly, likewise sees the other one as ugly. There is only unity, no one. The one who sees his one as ugly vibrates this into the collective fire ball, the fire ball each carries. Thusly, all ones carrying fire balls will see ugly, and the collective whole will be ugly. Ugly is an illusion. One can choose to create whatever one chooses. Choosing is the key and the power.

In reference, the following string of words reflects the non-beneficial string of non-seven transition:

I have an ugly face.

I am ugly.

You are ugly.

We are ugly.

We are.

Here the vibration vibrates as stagnant. This is non-beneficial but not bad. The one has not recognized the effect one has on the collective. This is stagnation that feeds back into the fire mass (ball). When one believes in the illusion of ugly, all are ugly. One cannot proclaim one is ugly without proclaiming that he is equally ugly.

All ugly is an illusion. All beauty is an illusion. Words are vibration. Vibration creates form and reality. The vibration of ugly is determined by the illusion of ugly. If one chooses ugly as bad, then the vibration of ugly is bad. This bad is an illusion as well, creating its own ripple of vibration.

All words carry power—but the true power is in the choice of vibration behind the illusion of the word. This choice vibrates into the collective and feeds the fire mass. This fire mass is within one and within the other. Ugly feeds the one, and so ugly feeds the other. Stagnation, or non-beneficial vibration occurs when this ugly, this word, this vibration meets the fire mass. The vibration of non-beneficial energy will feed to implode the fire mass instead of expand, decreasing the light. Again, the word is not bad, neither is the vibration. The word is an illusion, the vibration behind the word is created by choosing illusion. We are in a constant state of choosing illusion.

Day 103: The Sound of Nothing

| Aspergers Girls

Compared to my other posts, this is very mature. Part of my journey to wholeness and self-love has involved documenting events of my past. The short stories are a form of art work to me. They feel like art, as they are scribed through strong emotion and creative flow. However, the words are no longer a part of me. The little girl’s experiences are forever lost on the pages I typed.

This is not meant to be sad, but shared as a possible peer into another part of me—the melancholic artist, perhaps. Or a mature woman sharing her truth, so others know they are not alone. I have many pages of similar events, but shall not post on this blog because of the maturity-level. Someday the missing chapters, I suppose, may appear in book form as a collection of many of the thoughts in this blog.

The Sound of Nothing

My new sitter was Jessica Jensen.  I called her Jess.

She was much the complete opposite of the obtuse and sedentary babysitter Mrs. Stockman.  Jess was a long-limbed, freckled-faced high school freshman with thick reddish-blond hair and a ruddy face infested with whiteheads.

Initially, I wanted to make Jess my best friend, but Jess had different plans.  She wasn’t mean or anything.  She was actually quite tolerant.  However, she was short of being my friend.  During our time together, Jess feigned interest in me, in the form of an over curious stare or raised eyebrow, but within a few minutes she was focused on something else, like her fingernails or the person on the other end of the telephone.  Nothing I said or did truly seemed to impress Jess.  She thought I was smart and funny, and told me so.  But her real interest was in her boyfriends and teenage mischief, all of which I was much too young to understand.

Jess was a roamer, and in a way I was her little naïve sidekick.  I’m sure it crossed Jess’s mind several times to leave me behind somewhere, but to her credit she always kept me in close proximity.  She didn’t know what she was doing most of the time.  She was just some teenager from a broken, druggie home, who didn’t know better, a girl who had far too much freedom.  We attended movies, where Jess covered my eyes so I wouldn’t see the full screen of naked breasts, and then afterward we’d hitchhike about town, bouncing from one kid’s house to another.  Jess was in search of something, maybe an escape or a rush, something to make her forget about where she’d come from and what she’d seen.

I stood by Jess, no matter where she took me, because, like her, I had no choice.  Choices are for bigger kids, once they realize they are worth something, once they know their value, once they can look at themselves and smile, liking what they see.  Jess and I, we just hadn’t gotten there yet.

I followed Jess into a world that seemed a distant land from the home I once knew with my stepfather Drake.  It was a place of no good and ugliness, a world with molding mattresses stretched out under the overgrowth of a beat up magnolia tree, where the backyard fence was bent and broken in all different places, where the house with the peeling yellow paint and exposed boards stank even from the outside, maybe even from the next house over—a raw smell, a dangerous smell that I imagine dogs would whimper and slink away from.

And there, I’d find her oldest brother, or better yet, he’d find me—a long-haired, high school dropout named Rick: a teenager roughened by an absent father and a strung out mother, scraped up all over on the inside like a bristle brush to stainless steel. An aimless boy who roamed a place where beer bottles lined the back porch and stray wild cats, some pregnant, some close to death, slithered in and out of open basement spaces like hairy serpents.

Inside Jess’ house were threadbare couches, half-busted televisions and food, but not the type of food anyone would want to eat, just leftover spoiled junk, crushed potato chips and cookie remnants, and bowls of sugary cereals molding in spoiled milk.  It was the type of house that needed to be quarantined, sealed off with yellow tape and bulldozed down, or burnt into smoldering ash.  No good was in the house.  No good at all.

Rick liked to play doctor, a confusing game wherein he touched me in places a little girl should never be touched.  And Jess, he’d do the same to her, that’s what I suspected, though I never said so.  I just kept my mouth shut, let him do what he needed, and left, went out and found Jess, like nothing had happened.  He never laid himself on me, nothing as crude as that, and he was just a child himself.  He didn’t know any better; just like Jess, he didn’t know any better.

I didn’t feel nothing.  No pleasure, no guilt, no disgust, felt like I would after playing a game of Twister or the Game of Life.  That’s what it was, just another game of life.

One time, in the early spring, I clutched Jess’ hand in her backyard while watching the slimy-brown juices of chewing tobacco seep out the side of Rick’s cocked mouth. “Get the hell out of here!” Rick yelled, fixing his cold-hazel eyes on scowling Jess.

Jess stood her ground.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Rick continued, kicking up pebbles with his muddy old boots and letting loose a wall of dust. “Get the hell out of here!”

“You are an idiot,” Jess said. “It’s my backyard, too.”

“Screw you!”

Jess clenched her teeth.  I stepped back and started counting the multitudes of dandelions.  At the same time, Rick removed a chipped brick from an outdoor wall.

Jess screamed, “You’re going to get arrested!”

“Mind your own business,” Rick said with a heated gaze, adding more spit to the puddle in the dirt.  “Just get out of my sight.  Go back to humping your fat loser of a boyfriend!”  With that said, he pulled out a dented tin box which had been stuffed in the space behind where the old brick had been.  He then opened the box and pulled out a pile of compressed twenties.  He fanned out the money, stopping to toss a smirk Jess’s way, and then shoved the box and brick back in place.

Jess squeezed my hand, and shouted again, “If Mother finds out, she’ll kick you out on your ass again!”

Answering back with a stiff middle finger, Rick headed out the busted back gate. “Whore!” he hollered from over the broken fence. “Stinking Whore!”

Jess turned round to find me.  I gazed up at her and I thought for a moment she might grab some money for herself.  Images of Budd’s ice cream cones and bean burritos danced in my head.  But Jess didn’t take any money.  She didn’t even go near the brick.  Instead she led me inside her house to the grime-covered kitchen.

“Come on,” Jess said.  “Let’s get out of here.”  She grabbed a hotdog off of a plate and took a bite, then proceeded to chew with her mouth open.  My mother taught me to always close my mouth while eating.  I watched as Jess’ food slid about, until the hotdog moved to the side of her blushing cheek.  “Now, what did you see?  You didn’t see anything did you?”  She swallowed and took another mouthful.  A frantic look crossed her face.  She paused between her words to chew. “Because… if you saw… or     heard… anything… anything at all… it’s not… true.”

“I didn’t see anything,” I said, wide-eyed and innocent.  I started counting with my fingers.  I figured there was at least a few hundred dollars in the box.

Jess swallowed again. “Good.  Good.  Let’s go then.  Come on.”

As Jess walked a few strides ahead of me, I could hear her disjointed whispers.  A block away, she stopped and turned to me.  “Never mind,” she said.  “You’re too young to understand.  It’s too late, just too late to do anything now.”

Further up the sidewalk, Jess stopped dead in her tracks.  Her lacy halter flapped up in the wind.  I reached over and attempted to pull her top down.  She didn’t notice, and the wind blew the halter right back up again.  Her sheer pink bra was showing.  I studied the thin material.  Jess faced sideways and cupped her hand to her ear. “Listen.  Do you hear a police car?  Do you hear that?”

I gazed into the crystal-blue of her wild eyes and considered what Jess had said.  I didn’t hear anything.  We waited without moving, stood still—didn’t move an inch, just like those pill bugs do when they’re playing dead.  For a few seconds I believed Jess might well be a bionic babysitter endowed with supernatural hearing.  I waited patiently for the sound of the police siren or the sight of a patrol car.  I waited and waited, but in the end there was nothing.

© 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. https://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com

Samantha Craft

Day 95: Change Your Word and Change Your World (Aspergers Rap)

| Aspergers Girls


 

Change Your Word and Change Your World

(Aspergers Rap)

By Samantha Craft

Aspergers is a manmade syndrome, with a manmade name, with a manmade meaning and associated power.  Aspergers is a creation.

People took a collection of traits and assigned the word Aspergers.

People could have labeled the collection any name.

Any name at all.

The word Aspergers carries power.

All words carry power.

WE have the power to make Aspergers into any meaning we wish.

Aspergers is a manmade syndrome, with a manmade name, with a manmade meaning and associated power.  Aspergers is a creation.

Aspergers carries the power to indicate broken or whole.

All things deemed whole require no repair.

All things deemed broken require repair.

WE carry the power to decide if Aspergers is broken or whole.

The word Aspergers has power to connect or separate.

The word Aspergers has power to bring relief or misery.

The word Aspergers can have any power WE wish.

Aspergers is a manmade syndrome, with a manmade name, with a manmade meaning and associated power.  Aspergers is a creation.

Some who know Aspergers will seek knowledge.

Remember knowledge comes in all forms.

Remember knowledge comes with associated power.

Remember knowledge comes with associated beliefs.

Know the core of the knowledge!

Know the core of the power!

Aspergers is a manmade syndrome, with a manmade name, with a manmade meaning and associated power.  Aspergers is a creation.

Aspergers can inspire hope and inspiration.

Aspergers can inspire dread and isolation.

Aspergers can inspire anything WE wish.

Aspergers can be a positive light.

Aspergers can be a vibration to change the world.

Change the vibration of one word and change the vibration of the universe.

Aspergers is a manmade syndrome, with a manmade name, with a manmade meaning and associated power.  Aspergers is a creation.

 

© 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. https://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com

 

Much love to you.