267: Cats and Dogs and Penis Envy

I awoke before four in the morning today with words and images twirling nonstop in my mind. I felt like a giant lollipop being dipped in the swirls of sweet wisdom.  Although I was sleepy, and wanting to fall back into a deep slumber, I was made awake, wrapped spiritually in what could essentially be called a lesson review of sorts.

The images and thoughts came swiftly, and with a touch of deliberate humor, ended with memories of my first college course, where I sat a plum-faced, shy freshman girl, surrounded by upper classmen. I had signed up for Psychology of Human Sexuality Course on a whim, having had no clue that the course would actually be about real sex!

I giggled this early morn, as the lesson dancing in my head wrapped up, and I was reminded of the term penis envy, a popular belief back in the early days of my schooling: the thought that many of women’s psychological insecurities are caused by their subconscious desire to have the same package as men.

I chuckled inside at the memory of class, of going around in a circle, and each of us female members of the group describing our degree of envy. Back then, I was so malleable, still am, that any belief system set upon me, I innocently absorbed as truth. Thusly, I went around for many years thinking I wanted to grow male stuff.

Today, in the wee hours of the morn, as the lesson began, with my mind’s eye, I saw numerous dogs and cats posed in various ways in their silly hats and wearing their silly expressions. And then I saw a massive amount of other animals, starting with the more common American pets of snakes, turtles, and hamsters, and ending with pigs and rats, and even monkeys. The debate came to my mind between cat lovers and dog lovers, and then I saw how silly the debate was. I saw that as a society we created these pets as our favorites, and then divided the camps. I thought about why they were our favorites: cuddly, responsive, expressive, fairly clean and predictable, sensitive, and perhaps even thoughtful.

And then I thought that the love of dogs and cats was all by choice, that as a collective we could easily have chosen a pig and a rat as our favorite pets, that instead of cats and dogs that pigs and rats could be there in their place…perhaps in another time or universe.

I began to visualize the various poses of pigs in their holiday wear and with their big eyes, and with captions written across their photos. I could see the rats too, all decked out for the season, with jingle bell vests, and more. It wasn’t such a leap out of our current reality.

In truth, much of what happens is all about what we as a whole choose to make our reality.

Then I realized that the expectations we have upon animals do actually affect the behavior of the overall species. With millions of people thinking dogs are awesomely friendly, no wonder they walk around with goofy grins and wagging tails. I imagine that if the collective believed all natural brunettes were brilliant, fascinating, and someone to aspire to be, I would walk around with my bum shaking a bit too, with goofy smile to boot.

I began to wonder what would happen if we replaced all the cats and dogs (temporarily and in theory only) with two other animals. I visualized the majority of pet owners with a snake at their side, cuddling during a television show, with the turtle tucked under the covers with their owner at bedtime.  And the thoughts didn’t seem so farfetched; for with enough conditioning and collective belief, we have the potential to mold any species’ behavior.

I had intense laughable visuals of a pet owner holding their ant farm during a movie or even housing a bee’s nest in their home and keeping a window open for free access to the fields. I began to see how anything was possible, if enough people believed or accepted a norm. This is evident from culture to culture, when considering what animals are revered, accepted as pets, or eaten for supper.

These thoughts led to the concept of ownership, and the fact that most domesticated dogs are entirely dependent upon their owner. I imagined what that dependency must feel like for dogs, how they must wonder when the food will come, the fresh water, the walks, the grooming, the holding, the words “good dog.” How they live their lives essentially as a prisoner to their master’s behavior, wherein the pet is entirely dependent on what their owner does.

I began to think that perhaps this dependency could cause some dogs a type of sadness, as I believe was in the case of my Goldendoodle, Scooby. For the first couple years of Scooby’s life, Scoob appeared mostly sad and withdrawn, until we brought home another dog. Then his spirit lit up and he seemed to come alive. But then he fell into another sadness spell, shortly after we moved to Washington, and he had less of a yard for roaming. He began to crave walks, and beg for walks, and on the days there were no walks, he sat in the corner forlorn. Scoob also despised all dog food. Most of his days he set about to steal whatever people food he could from out of the sink or atop the stove—like some grizzly bear at a picnic. He was adorable, but primarily a sad pup. Being empathetic to animals, I always sought to cheer him up, through fur massages and rough housing with a stuffed toy, even dancing to music. Still, he seemed to feel as if he was trapped in a life I ordained for him, that I ran, that I created.

This thought led me to the idea of the human experience, that we, too, as a people, have our own masters: our accepted beliefs; and that in truth, the only thing we can control, as many ancient teachings state, are our thoughts.

I suppose my Scooby didn’t have that capacity—to control his thoughts. Instead all he could see at certain times was missed opportunity. Even on the days we walked, he longed for more. Perhaps he would have been the happiest on a ranch estate. Perhaps if he’d had the capacity to daydream, that is where he went, to the golden fields where he could run until his legs gave out beneath him. I like to think that is where he is now, with a perpetual wet-nosed smile upon his face.

From here my thoughts turned to the social taboos of societies. It was at the age of eighteen, in that human sexuality college course, I first learned about how a society actually creates what is socially acceptable. I remember pondering about the collective creating ideals of rights and wrong, popular and unpopular, and loved and unloved.

The way my professor explained social taboo, forever stayed in my mind. The professor asked the class to visualize a planet in which it was socially unacceptable to eat in front of another person; to imagine a place where you were only allowed to eat in private or with a special significant other, a world in which people ate in the dark of their bedrooms, even under the covers; a place where chewing in public was seen as vulgar and disgusting, and punishable by law. My professor explained about how the body opening of the mouth was only to be used for practical purposes in public: for breathing, drinking, and talking. Laughing was a risk, for the mouth might open too wide.

This other world’s eating taboo he then compared to sexual intercourse and the naked flesh taboos of this world.

I remember then that a light bulb turned on in my mind. It was in that classroom I understood that much of what I was told and much of what was modeled were based on a collective’s culture and belief system, and that I was living in a world with unpredictable and shifting values.

In theory what was a norm that day and what was deemed taboo at the same moment would shift with the passing of time. I remember feeling extreme discomfort. I recall analyzing the current taboos of the time, particularly mixed-race marriage and homosexuality. I concluded that in time people’s views would shift, and as a whole our outlook and perception would change, that the unacceptable would become accepted, or at least move in the direction of the majority accepting.

The reality of the collective establishing truth boggled my mind. I could see clearly how I was a part of the collective and even though I was aware that I lived in a society that created truths and rights and wrongs, that even with my awareness I was continually molded by these created truths. I was in essence powerless.

I wondered where the truth really rested, how I could reach it, and how would I know.

I recognized that at a certain level, beyond conscious awareness, I was affected by what others accepted as truth. I recognized ultimately I was affected by what others thought. Living on this planet, the collective belief system was to a degree always to be a cornerstone of my own belief system—their reality, my reality; their conclusions, my conclusions.

I innately knew, I wouldn’t be able to fully grasp multi-dimensions, the supernatural, and the magic of the world, until the majority accepted this as a possibility, but that even then, whatever was believed and grasped onto by the whole could and would once again shift.

I was a dependent part of an intricate and mind-blowing mechanism, no less and no more, and entirely unable to escape. In a sense, I was my dog, my Scooby, waiting in my chair to see what the masters did.

It wasn’t until this morning, through all of these aforementioned thoughts that manifested in a span of twenty-minutes, that I recognized what was happening to me with more clarity: a shift was occurring.

More and more people were expanding their awareness and understanding of the illusion of the world and the power of thought, and thusly so was I.


Day 121: Violet in the Morning

(Teacher says: Music I posted in comment section is a must to play while reading.)
 This is Violet in the Morning. My little Labradoodle. I also call her Spastic Colon, but I thought the title Spastic Colon in the Morning might give you the wrong idea.  I am carrying her in my arms in this photo. That is my scarf. And, yes, those are her very sad eyes. This is my first time taking a camera on a walk since I moved to Washington. Violet was initially very excited to walk. She showed me this by jumping up and down about three feet off the ground and wrestling with her leash. But once we were outside the front door, she didn’t seem too happy. She was tugging, and pulling, and shivering. I thought she must be cold and said, “You’re a dog. Toughen up!” And I giggled. Because giggling in the morning is fun.
This is my tree. I call him Fred or Sheldon. I can’t decide. He doesn’t care, because trees will go by any name, as long as you hug them. 
When I passed this tree Violet was still shaking. A few blocks later and she was pulling back on her leash. Being the logical gal I am, I thought to myself, “Hmmmm. Maybe she senses danger. Like a mountain lion or wild leash-free dog.” I was still a bit clueless and exaggerating events in my mind.
About the time I reached this stump, I leaned down and soothed Violet with gentle pats, and reassured her she had a fur coat to keep her warm and that there was no pending danger.
This crow was watching us outside the lama barn. We kept walking, Violet shivering and tugging, and me clicking away happily.
Flowers by my home
 Early Morning Mist. Can’t beat this calming scene.
 One of my favorite properties. They have outdoor weddings here sometimes.
About the time I captured these ducks flying overhead, and was thinking I wish I had an audio recorder to capture all the bird sounds, I realized poor Violet wasn’t cold or scared. In fact, she was having a doggy seizure! This wasn’t her first. So I scooped her up and held her. And I continued the walk with her in my arms.
I have a friend who I promised to carry in my thoughts today. So as I carried my doggy, I imagined I was carrying the person’s burdens. This worked for quite sometime.
This scene caught my eye. The two friends, the dog being held, but then I noticed the broken leg. Made me wonder a bit about things.
Me wondering about life.
 Fake seagull in ivy
 Neighbor’s yard
 Fish atop a mailbox
 Hidden School Bus
Old Bus Stop

 Here comes the sun
I had to keep setting Violet down because my neck and back were aching something terrible. She was sweet. Just sat there and smiled up at me.
Interestingly, this was the least violent seizure she has had.
Here are photos of my favorite part of the walk. To me, this is one of the loveliest places in the whole world. I carried Violet most of the way. First down the hill and then back up, sometimes in a cradled position and sometimes like a baby slung over my shoulder. She shivered. But with every step I took with her, she calmed more down. I kept my friend in my mind.  It was a very enlightening experience. Especially considering my sensory issues of having dog breath in my face and my physical issues of having difficulty lifting things. I was quite happy and pleased with the way the walk turned out. I reflected on the way life is—how we never know what to expect—and that sometimes it is best to just make the best of things. And so we walked on.
Do you see that little blue light? I like that very much.
 Green, green, green!
 Love this
 What a lovely tree
 Pure Bliss
 Looking up and smiling
 My favorite road
 A little red
 More of my favorite road
 And then comes the water
 Just heavenly
 More lovely nature
See how small the people are and how tall the trees are?
Swings! Lisa, do you see the swings?
Violet felt better after I carried her for about forty-five minutes.
And I leave you with my favorite trees. I call them the Humping Trees. Can you see why? I love when nature makes me giggle.

Day 61: Another One Bites the Dust!

Would it be entirely inappropriate to modify the title of this post to: ‘Another One Bites the Dust!  Bite Me!’?


Most people wouldn’t get the vampire pun.

This week I’ve lost a couple of blog followers. Pausing for sniffles.

Even though Little Me repeatedly reminds the Geek Posse that we’ve gained cool new followers, the Posse remains in perpetual mourning. Crazy Frog is convinced it is my husband who unfollowed us.

Along with all of the commotion—the dressing in black attire, the donning of veils, the depressing funeral music—the Geek Posse put anonymous slips of papers in an empty fish bowl. Papers that explain why we lost followers. If you are a regular reader, you might be able to tell which ones Crazy Frog wrote.

Reasons People Stop Following the Geek Posse

(Words found on slips of paper) 

1. They came to find out what a brain of a female with Asperger’s syndrome is like. They found out. They left.

2. It’s tax season in America—your posts are far too long.

3. You didn’t visit their blog enough.

4. People who knew you in high school when you were a homecoming princess and cheerleader (gag!) are entirely disillusioned.

5. That non-stealth creature that keeps stealing your articles, snuck out after seeing the dorky sign you wrote and posted about her.

6. You used far too much “churchiness” in that post about Angel and Mary.

7. They think you are a false prophet.

8. You published twice in one day!

9. Their name starts with the letter D.

10. Your music selection is way old school.

11. You post corny old songs.

12. You repeat yourself.

13. Some people’s IQ-levels are too low to catch your humor.

14. They think you are a real vampire, alien, or a frog.

15. Your mental health therapist unfollowed you.

16. Someone over identified with the Reactive Reaper people-type.

17. Someone realized you meant him when you listed number 10 in Why People Follow Blogs.

18. This picture of the dog in large size scared them:

19. You write too little about Aspergers.

20. You write too much about Aspergers.

21. Your blog is better than theirs!

22. Grandma is confused.

23. They left with the intention of rejoining your blog under a fake identity.

24. They finished their thesis research paper on frontal lobe syndromes.

25. They fear you will track them down and try to be their real friend.

26. A traumatized man fled in fear, after discovering you are premenopausal.

27. The word is out that you are Italian and can’t cook.

28. They were drunk when they pressed the follow icon.

29. They are tired of lists.

30. You removed the distinguished profile picture of Crazy Frog that was posted in the My Lingo section.

31. They pressed My Lingo Button.

32. They are pissed off that they might have Aspergers after reading your list of traits.

33. They don’t like the words boob, dumbass, or pissed off.

34. They think Aspergers sounds like a butt-burger; and they are a conservative vegetarian.

35. You deleted them from your Facebook group page.

36. You told your husband one too many times: “Fine! Stop following my blog, then!”

Geek Posse at Everyday Aspergers


Day 57: Losing Your Mind? Here’s What You Don’t Want to Do!

Image found on morgueFile

Losing Your Mind? Here is What You Don’t Want to Do! 

1. Don’t rely on phobias for diagnosis. At one time or another, you probably had: 1) Nomophobia: fear of being without your cellphone; 2) Soteriophobia: the fear of having a dependence on others; 3) Syngenesophobia: the fear of relatives; 4) Ecclesiophobia: the fear of churches.

2. Do not rely on the projective personality test where you are asked to draw a house-tree-person picture, unless you are prepared to know your overall brain damage, your possible rejection of home life, your need for satisfaction, and how you present yourself in society; and, if indeed, you are feasibly psychotic.

3. Don’t read A Course in Miracles quite yet; you might think you are a present-day prophet.

4. Don’t list all of your psychological symptoms on your blog; only the ones that make you seem interesting, quirky, and fun. In other words, avoid discussing the paranoia you sometimes feel when you believe your computer camera has been hacked, and others are watching you pick your nose.

5. Don’t check yourself into a psych-ward, unless you have a high tolerance level for patients who go by the first name of Jack-Off, nurses with bushy eyebrows who scowl and shush you for laughing, and cheesy television shows from the late 70’s like The Chipmunks of North America.

6. Don’t peruse the DSM-IV (diagnosis code book); you’ll likely determine you are narcissistic with rapid-cycling bouts of depression and mania or have the earmarks of oppositional defiant disorder.

7. Don’t see a therapist in training (intern); she’s more confused than you, and still trying to shake off her last frightful bout of DSM-IV, mental-health self-analysis.

8. Don’t trust a psychiatrist, if after fifteen minutes and a short multiple-choice test, he casually says, “Hmmmm. It doesn’t seem like you qualify for this condition. But here’s a prescription I want you to take, just incase.” He’s likely closing in on earning those pharmaceutical credits needed for that trip to the Bahamas.

9. Don’t rely on a fetish search. Depending on your state-of-mind, (and your alcohol intake), you might believe you have: 1) Dacryphilia: an attraction to tears and sobbing; 2) Flatulophilia: an attraction to farts; 3) Liquidophilia: an intense need to submerge your private parts in water; 4) Scatologia: a desire to make obscene prank calls to strangers.

10. Don’t look for signs from beyond. Two hundred blog hits, a sunny day, and a good bowel movement are not signs of sanity.

11. Don’t pull a Tarot Card. You will likely misinterpret the tower of inferno, the fool, and the card with all the daggers.

12. Don’t rely on numerology. It’s the only numerical field where the meaning of the numbers change, depending on context, culture, and interpretation.

13. Don’t think about thinking about thinking, or write about writing about writing, or talk about talking about talking. Just don’t.

14. Don’t Google: I’m nuts. For some reason Justin Bieber shows up.

15. Don’t over analyze that dream about the flying banana slugs attacking the golden-winged big toes.

16. Don’t rely on your mother, your mate, or you mutt. Your mother is your maker, your mate your mirror, and your mutt a mini-you.

17. And lastly, if you had a particular type of brownie, don’t call the emergency room. Wait ten hours, the room WILL stop spinning, your heart will not explode, and you are not crazy.

Disclaimer: If you took this seriously, seek professional help immediately.

Seeking a way out of insanity: Get a good night’s sleep, study the great minds of our time, and read a few pages of someone else’s blog. You’ll soon discover your less insane than you imagined.

© 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

My mom sent me this today. Couldn’t resist. Thinking of you Scooby Angel.

Online Draw a House Test

Words to Read After You Draw Your House

Weird Disorders to Obsess About

Day Thirty-Eight: Things That Make Me Go EWW!

Once a month my boys have late start—a time where they go to school an hour late because the teachers have a staff meeting. This bit of schedule variation sets me up for an anxiety-ridden morning. Everything—the alarm clock, breakfast time, traffic—is a little bit off. And the morning is always a little less predictable.

For instance, my youngest is currently undergoing an eye therapy program, and because we had extra time before school began, he played his favorite eye therapy game with one of his older brothers at 8:00 am. Eye therapy first thing in the morning, instead of the traditional afternoon time, brought about changes. Changes that included Robert, my youngest, standing on the basement-level floor at the bottom of our staircase, knocking wooden blocks off an ironing board by smacking an orange soft ball with a big stick. A ball held by a string hung over the stair banister at the top-level, a string that I balanced, while playing referee and keeping score.

Late start meant that there was time for my youngest, age ten, when finished knocking over the blocks and shouting gleefully, to make himself some scrambled eggs (without asking); so that when I returned from a cold shower, (because all three boys had enough extra time to all shower in a row, which left Mom no hot water), I found the kitchen, I had painstakingly cleaned, covered in eggs, shredded cheese, and what-have-you.

This while my Spastic-Colon (my dog; not my intestines) decided to do that move that all dogs do when there is a clump stuck to their rear. I watched, my hands covered in wet egg, as Spastic-C balanced on her butt, used her front legs like ski poles, hiked up the back legs, and slid across the kitchen linoleum, leaving a line of crap. My oldest, by then groaning and moaning from the disgustingness of the situation, was made (by me) to balance Spastic-C between his legs and hike up her tail, to ensure I had the best vantage point and stability for scissoring off the poop lump.

It’s about 9:00 am and I’m so ready to crawl back in bed. Only my husband’s big 5-O is arriving shortly, and I haven’t the faintest idea what to buy him. That, and LV is shouting: “Oh my gosh! You’re going to be married to a fifty-year-old! Gross.” (Yes…I know…it’s right around the corner for me, too.)

I thought about making a sweet list, using an acrostic of the alphabet, where I match one item/person/event that I’m thankful for to each letter. For instance, A is for apples, B is for boys, C is for custard. But then I thought (because let’s face it, thinking is what I do best) that I wasn’t in the mood to be some chipper, happy-go-lucky, nothing-gets-me-down, poop head! I’m not a Pollyanna; never will be; never could be. Though that used to be Spastic-C’s name when we adopted her, which in retrospect explains a whole lot.

By the way, my real name means from Mars.

Right now my eyes hurt, my shoulders hurt, and I’m freaking out knowing I’m only about 10% done with this blog. Since I’ve already written about 60 pages. Logically, I hypothesize I will be typing some 600 pages by the time this blog hits the magic 365 Days.  Don’t you even think about erasing me from your blog email list!

There is no doubt I have enough thoughts inside of me to share 600-pages of content.  That’s not the troubling factor. What I fret over is the absurdity that could potentially leak out in roughly 300 days.

There is only so much editing Crazy Frog can do (my lingo button); and there is a limited amount of brute strength I possess to keep LV and Sir Brain from running the show. Then there is Elephant, who likes to clomp over the pages, and Prophet in my Pocket’s extremely profound, lost-in-my-mind prose. Then I have Phantom, who hasn’t even showed herself fully. I can only imagine what she’s got hidden under her cape.

Oh Crap! (I hope that’s not offensive in countries outside of the USA; because where I live, crap is actually quite mild comparatively speaking. I’m stopping myself from using the thesaurus in combination with crap. But feel free.)

I typed Oh Crap because I forgot I had to still take my youngest to school. Don’t worry. He ran barefoot to the van and got his socks and shoes on during the ride, just in time, before he had to sprint to the classroom. Although, he couldn’t wear his new tie-shoes because there was no time for shoe tying. That’s why he said to me as he was bolting out the van’s side door, “Don’t worry Mom. I’ll call you if my shoes fall apart!”

I’m such a good mom.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes when I’m in an exhausted, wish-I-had-stayed-in-bed mood, I don’t like to read about how grateful people are and how life always has a bright side.

In all honesty, what cheers me up is hearing about other people’s crap and their struggles, and how they’re still doing okay despite it all, and that we’re all just free-styling in some giant pool of life, because know one really knows how to swim the right way.

Here’s a list that would make me happy, if you wrote it. I invite you to make one and post your list in comments. Just right (write) the first thing that pops into your mind. That’s what I did. But you probably figured that out.

Things That Make Me Go EWW! (or bother me)

A: Ants when they crawl out in masses out of cracks in the house

B: Beef on a plate

C: Curds on milk

D: Dentist chairs

E: Egg shells dripping with raw egg

F: Fat around my waist and on my upper arms

G: Goats’ stench at petting zoos

H: Hamburger cooking smell

I: Insides of the toilet bowl rim

J: Jellybeans that are throw up flavor

K: Kids picking their nose

L: Lights that are fluorescent

M: Money; it’s a love-hate relationship

N: Nuts in frozen carrot cake that scratch my throat

O: Octopus on a plate

P: Pigeon poop

Q: Questions that aren’t really questions but disguised insinuations or insults

R: Red coming out of a nose

S: Sunshine factor in the state of Washington

T: Teeth that are chipped

U: Underneath firewood where there are bugs and spiders

V: Vampire HBO series endings, because I want more

W: Wind

X: X-rays of any type, especially teeth x-rays

Y: Yellow in the toilet bowl

Z: Zoos, especially petting zoos

I thought that list would take a long time. It didn’t. So therapeutic! I think my next list will be people that make me go EWW! No. Just kidding.

Here’s a great alphabet list from another blogger that made me laugh! Prawn and Quartered Blog