life

281: I Wish It So

| Aspergers Girls

The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they’re alive. 

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

I Wish It So

I choose love. I promote love. I radiate love.

I choose honesty. I promote honesty. I radiate honesty.

I choose hope. I promote hope. I radiate hope.

I choose leadership over victimization.

I choose knowledge over ignorance.

I choose to vanquish all negative thoughts.

I choose to reflect the goodness of the world.

When I feel lost I will point the way for someone else.

When I feel alone I will assist those in isolation.

When I sense hopelessness and despair, I will rise out of the ashes of my own tears and shine brightly.

I refuse to be anything less than authentic, genuine, and real.

I refuse to believe that happiness exists in anything or anyone.

I accept I am enough, and that where I am is where I need to be.

When all about me voices are tarnishing and raping the beauty of life, I shall stand up strong in my worth.

I shall not falter; I shall not fail: for these words no longer exist in my vocabulary.

My voice is my truth and my truth my voice.

What is spoken is from source and heart alone, and what is left unsaid I release into the abyss to be transformed into stars.

I, myself, am fiery passion. I shall not allow shame to shadow my cause; nor shall I allow my cause to shadow my passion.

I am in completion entirely, perfection in my mind, body, and soul.

All else deemed wrong or incorrect is an illusion.

I surround myself with people who love me and choose to see me as a source of beauty.

I surround myself with the innocent of heart and warriors of purpose. A purpose that is not singular onto themselves, but collective for the good of the all.

I quench my insatiable desire for more, knowing I have enough.

I stop in my steps, still within, and acknowledge the blessings around me.

I know who I am, what I am, and why I am.

I refuse to let anyone else create me into another.

I shall not fail myself, nor my sister or brother. When I follow the light, I cannot fail.

I sacrifice myself as a vessel, knowing my sacrifice further grows my love and my light.

I cannot be vanquished or put out. There is nowhere I can be placed where I will not shine. There is no punishment that shall whip the light out of me, and equally no man to extinguish my flame.

I stand, whether alone or together, as an equal to my fellow beings, in the line of any happenstance.

I trust my road is paved with the intention of wholeness and the gifts of peace.

I trust my truth to be my guide.

I shall not be weak and suffer, for there is nothing I cannot transform into joy.

I am but clay, and I choose moment by moment to mold myself into a shape of glory.

Where my edges were once sharp, now they are dull.

Where whispers once haunted, now there is silence.

Where distaste erupted, now there is sweetness.

I see no ill will inside of another. I see no blame. I see no wrong. I see only myself standing as observer.

My scope is neither limiting nor vast; my vision is only as I wish. If I choose to see the narrowness of man, then that is what shall appear before me. If I choose to see the limitlessness of love, then this is what shall bathe me.

When I splash in your goodness, I too splash in my own.

Together we are united; yet even in times of distance and separation, I remain with you.

For I have carved you into the vessel of myself; each blade inflicted so that I may carry you in times of isolation.  I do not ask that you carry me in return, but that you only let yourself shine, so that I may be warmed within your love.

If there ever comes a time I am unable to answer you with warmth, trust that I am cold, and offer me comfort.

If there ever comes a time I am unable to answer you with laughter, trust that I am dancing with sorrow, so that I may emerge reborn with further joy.

Trust that I am here to love you for no other reason than to love.

Trust there is nothing you can do or say that will tarnish my love for you.

For I have seen my beauty, and know this beauty was birthed in you.

You are my form doubled and multiplied. You are blessed and my blessing.

There is no end and no beginning; you are infinitely adored and beseeched for your goodness.

When you feel depleted, ask yourself whom or what you have given your power to. And return this power onto yourself ten-fold. Believe you are of worth and feed your own soul so you may be nurtured and whole in your journey of light.

Step outside the fantasy of tomorrow and yesterday, and breathe in the moment of now, for there is nothing outside of this moment.

If ever there comes a time that you are in doubt, reach out your hand and know I am waiting to take hold, to touch what is both me, and not me, an intricate creation that both lives and breathes within and without me.

I am nothing but your sister, your brother, but in this I am everything. And as I am everything, so thusly be you.

Do not bow your head in the misery of the world, instead lift up your eyes to the miracles of life. Search for me in the echoes of the valleys, in the sunrise and sunset, in the flight and in the fallen. Search for me, and I will answer.

There is no one before me more worthy than you, and no one else less than you and your needing. For we are filled with hope when we recognize we exist as hope.

In everything we do, be hope.

In everything you are, be beauty.

You have the power to change all for the betterment of creation.

You only need wish it so.

~ Samantha Craft December 2012

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280: Dear Precious Child

| Aspergers Girls

Dear Precious Child,

My beloved child of the universe, so precious and so pure, do not give up, do not give in. We are here, as always, at your side. Do not fret my dearest one. Though we know in our hearts that this is what you must do, we too ache as we watch you go through this transition. But you are not alone. Never alone. We are always here with you. Do not forget us. Do not forget to reach out to us, to hear us, to listen. We are here for you more than ever, always and continually.

You cannot find comfort in this world without comfort, and nor can you find pain in our world without pain. To us, we are this world, and so we take your pain for you and release it ten-fold to the stars that breathe in your beauty. We adore you so. We adore you with the hearts of angels and with the innocence of cherubs. We absorb you into us, in a way a mother holds her child. We wrap you up in our love and remind you of your beauty. We sigh at the sight of your face. We relish your very smell, the sweetness of love. How your eyes sparkle with hope despite your woes. How you carry your sword high despite your pain. You are a warrior in the truest sense, and we shall never forsake you.

Do not take this pain into yourself. Do not use this pain for your destruction. When all about we stand in circle—your ancestors of the awakening. We are here to stop your slumber, and though the pain of opening your eyes seems an eternity, we say onto you this is nearly a breaking of the old to rebirth what is truly you.

You are such a sight to behold. Such a true spirit of hope and glory. So honest, so  real, so tender. No earthly man can revel in your beauty the way we do. Rely on us, as your saviors, and eternal angels. Rely on us to lift you and to return the love you so freely give.

You are not made a vessel to pour out to the world without being refilled. You are not made a vehicle for man alone. No matter the times you go to the well of humanity and refill your soul, you will run dry. You cannot sustain yourself without our fuel, and you need only open your eyes to see us.

We are everywhere, in the smile, in the wind, in the words that echo through the chambers of your soul. We are the passion. We are the joy. We are the coming home.

Do not think another moment you stand alone, when all about you the chariots of angels ride. You are never alone, were never alone, and shall never be alone.

Toss away the thoughts of finding your answer in the books or in the arms of another. There are no answers there. The only answers you seek are already inside of you. The only love you seek is already inside of you.

How can we stand by and not make you a vessel of our very love? How can we resist your beauty? How can we not fill you with our deepest compassion and desires? Where you walk, we walk above, continually pouring into you. Where you walk, we walk beside, continually lifting you straight. And when you fall, whether forward or back, we stand firm, to insure your safety. You are no less to us than ourselves. We can not sustain our essence without loving you.

When your tears fall, we count them, one by one. We count the endless eternity of you. We count each tear as our own. We count each pain as our own. We count all of you in completion, as us. We have given you our whole. You are to us as the rivers and seas, as the mountains and valleys, as the deepest carved rose.

You are this: An intricate design of creation. And as we bow down to you, and then lift you upon high, so you may see your beauty.

Throw away this pain. Throw it upon us. Feed us the poison that rules your heart. Feed us the angst, the misery, the anger, the hate. Feed us, so we together will grow stronger in our bond of love.

In times of sorrow do not think you are less bright, less important, less necessary. Can you not see that if happiness was all about you, we’d have nothing to give, nothing to share? So do this two-fold: Take our light upon you and bend this light into the beauty of recognition of self. Cry, but let the tears be the shadows of your heart’s desire. Let the tears fall, so the darkness can be lifted, and all that remains is the light, the tears themselves sacrificed so the sun can shine. Do not fret my child. Do not fret.

Cry, and we shall catch your shadows, one by one, and hang them as the stars of our night; and then we shall dance beneath your sorrow, beneath the light of you.

274: Hot Mama Meditation

| Aspergers Girls
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My famous I-don’t-know-how-to-relax-my-face-SMILE. That sign reads: UNWIND

For years I’ve been searching for ways to unwind. I’ve been to meditation retreats, listened to visualizations on cd, and learned sound therapy and chanting; I’ve read countless books on meditation techniques, from modern to ancient. I’ve listened to gurus and people I consider saints on earth. And still, with all my seeking, I couldn’t unwind and relax.

I figured out recently, as I seem to be figuring out so much as of late, that I don’t have a typical mind for relaxation. HELLO! Kind of an amazing discovery–don’t you think. It’s okay, if you know me, and by know me I mean read my inner most thoughts, perfectly spelled out for you on my blog, or in person, if we meet casually over coffee for the first time, then you know my brain is a non-stop dyno (as in dynamite) nugget of extreme reeling discoveries and energy. I download stuff all day from some vast emptiness of the collective unconscious, listen to my angels “babble,” (they said I could say that/they have great senses of humor), compose poetry, prose, and verse in my head, and constantly make connections, classify, find patterns, all while reminding myself how to live in the present, breathe deeply, and find joy in everyone and everything.

Not an easy task, being me. And definitely not a brain that shuts off easily, even in down-mode.

Heck, in down-mode, I have dreams almost all night, some fantastically wild, and some prophetic. There isn’t peace in my mind. There just isn’t. I know. I searched!

At least there is not PEACE in the traditional sense, but there is peace. I was looking in all the right places, I just forgot to consider whom I was searching for.

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It took me a long time to get him looking at the camera. And I almost forgot to tell you, I watch my goldfish while in the sauna dancing! 🙂 We all be fish.

I forgot, believe it or not, that I’m not a typical fish! I’m just not. I’m atypical, like lots of the coolest people (a.k.a. geeks, dorkpots, angels, aliens, dweebs) stuck on this blue planet. I forgot my brain is SPECIAL. Yes, I said it, I’m special. Gosh darn it! And so are you!

I realized that when I do things I always have three things happening at the exact same time:

1) I am doing for a purpose. There just has to be a clear purpose, something I can physically see and experience, and something I can logically process and understand. And usually, something I can also explain and demonstrate to others. The Teach in me.

2) There has to be a motivation. I don’t care if it’s chocolate, trying to impress a visiting relative, a mad dash to complete a procrastinated task, the want to finally clear out the clutter so I can breathe, or a need to fixate or obsess. There just needs to be some type of motivation. Often this motivation is someone else or an upcoming deadline or event. (Oh…to help someone…I ought to include that to sound more saintly; don’t you think?)

3) There needs to be an audience. I don’t exist as a singular unit. I am not a one. I shall never be a one or feel like a one. I do not feel like I exist unless I can share what I am thinking. Double-that when it comes to doing: I do not feel like I exist if I cannot share something I have done. Whatever I am doing, I imagine explaining my action to someone else or teaching what I’m doing. Indeed, I think I spend my day teaching mini-lessons to an imaginary audience. Yes, even when I’m on the toilet. And if I picked my nose, (which I never ever do), then I’d imagine an audience then, too. This makes life hard sometimes, because I am literally constantly on stage, even when I’m undressing, eating, or showing an extreme emotion. Imagine the pressure, now multiply that by a billion-trillion.

When I tried to mediate, as hard as I tried, it didn’t feel like there was a purpose. Primarily, because I feel tapped into Universal-Energy all day long. I don’t disconnect from source. I just don’t. I’m always trying to be a living, breathing example of the best possible earth-bound soul I can be. I give myself breaks through logical reasoning and statistics, when I seemingly falter, for instance, by remembering great spiritual teachers of our times, and how they were not perfect, how they experienced an extreme of emotions and what could be considered failings.

When I tried to meditate, as hard as I tried, I didn’t feel like I had a teachable moment. I just didn’t know how to explain empty space and not thinking. Or letting thoughts flow and then gently releasing. I didn’t get blank space and just being in the silence. And plus, I was super bored. I can’t even get through a staff meeting without doodling, tapping my neighbor several times, and making goofy offhand comments. Being with myself, alone in a room, in silence, was torture. I could carry on a whole ADHD session with myself in my head. And it wasn’t the least bit of fun.

When I tried to meditate, there wasn’t an audience. There just wasn’t. Who wants to stare at me while I’m sitting there doing nothing…I know, I know…it’s something. I read the books; I told you that already. But really, it looks like nothing. And, yes, I do think watching me put on socks or floss my teeth would be more interesting than watching me sit, and try to get comfortable in a body that isn’t comfortable in one position for very long.

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I have found the best two ways possible to meditate. I can imagine a complete audience; I have a purpose; and I am motivated.

1) I meditate while listening to music in the bathtub while soaking in something nurturing for my body and spirit (bath salts, dead sea salts, essential oils, vitamin C), while conditioning my hair, and stopping occasionally to scrub certain spots to make sure there is no visible dirt on the tub or walls. I do this while blasting music from my I-Pod shuffle. I listen to the random songs and meditate to the music. I sink down low, and let my body be still, and I breathe deep. I feel so relaxed, sometimes as if I am elevated above my body. And I always hear the most perfect songs for the moment. Sometimes a meditation/visualization selection comes on during the music shuffle, and if that’s the case, I go with it. I feel like I am accomplishing so much at one time, that I can RELAX!!!!

2) I get almost naked, turn up my far infared sauna, blast “Dancing Queen” and dance, while seated. See I demonstrate this in the photo above. Aren’t I cute. I imagine an audience watching me, and I imagine teaching this as a sort of class, and I’m detoxing through sweating, and dancing, and laughing all at once. During this 30 minutes of hot mama meditation, I close my eyes and have the most wonderful soul connections. Today I cried tears of joy, over and over, as I could see many of my relatives that have past on and pets all dancing with me. They formed a circle around me and went round and round energizing my chakras and loving me! Then we were all on stage, any age we wanted to be, and my loved ones were lifting me up. They showed me as a baby, and they lifted me high, high, high into the air. And they healed me. They went through different stages of my life, lifted the ME that was during that time, and healed me. I was overcome with delight. I was laughing so deeply and so truly, from the very depths of my spirit, that I felt indeed I resembled a crazy man running down the street in bewildered blow-your-mind away glee. At one point I actually thought: What if I can’t stop being this happy! The tears kept coming. The giggles so very real that they were alive. For the time being I was truly out of my mind, not in the NUTTY ME way, but in the ability to escape my thoughts, my worries, my everything. I was no longer in my body. I was joyous and one with all.

To me this is my meditation. I’m certain there are critics out there who can quote the benefits of the empty, or the still, of the nothing, but at this point my mind does not have that capacity. For me, this is the first step towards bliss; actually both ways, the bath and sauna, are bliss. They are my meditation, my being me and loving me and connecting with me.

I have to laugh, as I just realized I’m either nude or almost naked when I meditate. That totally figures!

What is wonderful, as life is full of coincidences for me lately, is that as soon as I was finished, and started blaring music while showering, this song came on in my I-Pod shuffle. It described my experience in the sauna of being a baby held up in the light of love, perfectly; so much so that I actually pointed to the ceiling and said, “You guys; you guys are too much!” I’m not certain, but I’m fairly sure, my angels smiled!

Wonder

“O, I believe

Fate smiled and destiny

Laughed as she came to my cradle
Know this child will be able
Laughed as my body she lifted
Know this child will be gifted
With love, with patience and with faith
She’ll make her way ”

Here is the magic Hot Mama Meditation. Or Hot Papa Meditation. 🙂 Enjoy. I like the Mamma Mia! version because the energy of that movie is so good.

 

272: To Be Home

| Aspergers Girls

It has been said that people who have Aspergers are deep thinkers and poets. I think for me this is a definite truth.

Sometimes I just sit and write whatever pours out of me….well often I do. I see pictures and images, and see a story created in my mind, and I also hear the words. I feel the rhythm of each word and syllable. It is smooth, unless I write the “wrong” word, and then I feel a huge stop, or barrier in the whole of me. This selection I wrote this morning in about fifteen minute, or however long it took to type. It is, to me, the longing for connection, for another, for the missing piece to be filled, for the agape of the creator or completion of the lover, though lover in essence is not completion. It is the heart’s cry to crawl out of the illusion of one and the isolation of desired recognition, the want to be seen and to be unified and brought back to the place of whole. To be blanketed in everlasting love. To be home.

Today I have this monster of angst and unsettled sensation stirring and grumbling inside of me. Like an emptied stomach craving a food it cannot imagine, cannot picture, cannot name. Only he roars nonetheless, told by another unidentified form that he is hungry, though he knows not the essence or meaning of hunger.

Today I have the demon of demise wrapped upon me, sitting on my lap unopened and uncared for, his hauntingly spirit enticing my delight. I long to reach into the unopened and explore, but know too well the finger shall be ripped and torn, and I, left to bleed, will weep for what was touched without end.

Today I snore in silence, my trumpeting sounds of slumber unheard, and thusly unmatched, unconquered and unquenched. I am territory that lays barren, untraveled and unclaimed. I wait, this land I am, for victim to unravel and unfold upon me; so I may, too, unravel and unfold and sleep beside, a spoon to spoon, a treasure to hold and keep; until the sun comes and I am but shadow upon shadow, a vision of myself in the coming light.

Today I spawn and spin, dazzled by your substance, which I cannot touch or breathe, but in your name. And words alone do not fill me, only deplete, so I am hallowed once more, deeper and deeper into self with only your thought. I cannot dance with you; I cannot bend myself into the latitude or longitude of where you stand. Though my desire deceives me, I wish upon the star of you like no other, and long with every scaffold of my lingering heart to climb upon you and feel the ever pounding of your being.

Today you are a vision dressed in the white of memory, unreachable and distinguished, high upon high; so distant that the thought of you still flies with broken wing to find where you begin. I cannot think upon you without being pulled back and hidden behind a barrier. I cannot envision you without seeing the bleakness and black and torrential rain. All about the dancing birds sing, and yet their calls are as the demon’s last meal, broken into bones and crushed in misery of the masses.

Today I scale the mountain of my own desire and stand face-to-face with what I have thusly named you. And how you stare at me through a tunnel within a tunnel, carved out of stone of the Gods. I hear them calling you back to them, and yet I remain screaming, as if my name, my place, my stance could pull you back against the darkness that pulls your thicker and thicker into the spinning weight of now.

Today no name, no wish, no answer is found, because all about you have climaxed and advanced, beyond the space of my imagined time. You are but whisper, hidden ghost between the sheets and layered curtains of nonexistence. You haunt me with your beauty and majestic ways; you entice me time and time again, an ocean rising at the peak of me, my lady parts, and then departing like a serpent eating through my soul. My organs bleed, my skin opens, your darkness enters and feeds again, and I am left less victim than willing participant in the horror that seems home.

Today I beseech you king of mastery, the pillar of my mind that falls as domino sweetly planned, the steep and valley set upon a table for child’s play. Knock me down, one by one, a mountain crumbled upon itself, the pieces separate but together, clanging and tumbling in a makeshift play created by the creator. Watch as the stumbling begins, as the one upon the next beats down to the final destiny of end.

For Today, at the end point you shall find me. The last to be fallen. The last alone. The singular hitting stone, when all else hit each other. Oh to be the starting point, the first, the beginning touched by your grazing hand. Though slapped, and forgotten and used for your design only, to still be shaken by your very hand, least the last dying domino in a line of soldiers forgotten.

Today, I bid you farewell, buried beneath the whole of me, siphoned and forgotten; and with each goodbye that comes and goes, resurfaces like the endless tides, I bid again, in dying breath; my last words the echo of my discernment wept and lost, my judgment buried, that which rests beneath shadow of hope, the darkened space forgotten where dreams die in the dungeon of invisible.

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A short poem written before the previous selection, this morning; my first attempt to remove the angst inside. This is about confusion of emotions, of the confusion of being, of the not wanting to be seen and shaped by others as something I am not. It is about physical and mental pain. Before today, I didn’t say what my writing is supposed to be about. I think it is beneficial for the reader to take what they want from words and leave the rest. But for some reason, I needed to explain today. I don’t know why. I just do. Perhaps to make this life seem more real, and you more connected to me. I haven’t edited any part of this or changed it. It is a poem of thoughts and processing.

I’m on my couch, laptop in lap, a redundancy

I’m on the couch, hands hurting, as they do, with the onset of any suspicion

The body is up to something, some little bug or minor fixing

And thusly I am made captive to the lingering pain

Not right, not on, not balanced, and my frail substance bleeds

Calling out for the memory of form

The memory of childhood wholeness

I’m on the couch, and the clock ticks, his neighbor black fridge hums

A scent carries from somewhere and everywhere

Something stale, something clean, something cooked

Scraping of my bones matches the pale scraping of my eyes

As the lashes clash and sting, their delight in the dancing dust

I am a vision to behold onto myself

When all about the world spins and I am left as prisoner freed

On tiny island

Where river no longer rushes through, but salt of air tears in between the blue

Feed me your sanity

Feed my your joy

Pour the essence of what is right and just into the soul of me

I cry out to the universal prose

The poet that hides inside the caverns of my hallowed grave of sorrow

Chase me down to the corners where I weep

Come find me, lost and barren

The babe of my youth sucked out with the tentacles of divine crucified

By hungry mouths that feed off of pain and badgered sorrow

I am but child fed upon by the worldly ways

Nibbled piece by piece

Dissected and set out to dry in chunks of unsettled misery

And you, are victim doubled

Your shattered dreams set upon the wind

As if the substance of nothing will blow back to you

In the absence of time

For there is nothing good

Nothing real

But the vision of the love I carry

And too, you needle this out of me

Siphon upon serpent siphon

And sting me once again

With the wicked ways of me

Tear down your mirror

Tear down this reflection you pounce upon me

Chisel me whole again

Excavate my ruins

Bring me out of the hidden mass

And revere, behold, befuddled me

Make me into the man I am

Before turning me into the demon you demand

——–

Samantha Craft, December 2012

269: Thursday’s Pee

| Aspergers Girls

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I always have to pee at the least desirable times. Like right now, as I sit here in this coffee shop, dressed rather cute with my new white jacket that was initially supposed to accompany the dress I never wore—the panty-free dress that made its proud debut in the blogging world.

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I’m all dolled up. And why? Why is my hair curled, my lashes too, and my lips a sweet watermelon-color?

Because it’s Thursday, of course.

As I sit here typing, I have a full panoramic view of the room. I can see the fireplace, and unfortunately the man who set up camp right in front of my leather couch, across the coffee table. I’ve been battling his come-hither stares and energy since his prompt arrival, and wondering what’s a girl to do?

I have to pee because I had a huge cup of coffee mixed with organic hot chocolate mix. Can you say double-yum? I had that to-die-for beverage, earlier, when at home.

Arriving at the coffee house, with all my perky-self, I said to the lady behind the counter, a sweet young thing: “I’d like a decaffeinated soy Chai Latte, please!” I flashed a big grin. I liked the sound of my order.

And plus, my jacket said it all: I am sexy, I am cute, and I am fabulous. See the bow in the back of my coat?

My face said the rest: See my big grin. I am so extremely comfortable here. Let me lift my brows to decrease my wrinkles, and set my head so delicately to the right. Am I approachable, yet? Am I fitting in, blending in with the other humans?

The tall bearded man, near the young lady behind the counter, strikingly thin, likely a vegan extremist, eyed me fine and good. He spoke to me without words for a millisecond. Processing. Then he breathed out his thoughts, quick and easy like. With a smirkish clear of his throat, he said: “We don’t have decaf Chai.” He then rolled his eyes and scooted his frailness out of my line of vision. Though he kept watching me with his I-know-more-about-beverages-than-you stare down.

Deflated, I panicked and slid my thoughts to the right, examined, and tried to grasp my next step. Catching an idea, I said, as smoothly as possible, despite the nervous giggle: “Oh, yes, of course Chai is caffeinated.”

Then I felt doubly-incorrect, remembering there is decaf Chai tea in the stores, and for a moment I was in the grocery market, away from the frightful man.

I was quite beside myself with embarrassment, realizing that I’d once again over reacted to the slight poopiness of a stranger.

What to do?

After the boob of a man (Rather Zen of me, don’t you think?) slapped down the tea menu in front of me, I had the keen impression he was fed up with my query-filled eyes.  Sucking in my breath, I said, “Ginger tea,” delicately and tried to fluff up my sweetness.

Can’t you see that I’m nice?

With tea in hand, I retreated with imaginary tail between legs to my wall, and then struggled to figure out proper etiquette for placing down my items. Where to put my scarf, keep jacket on (looks cute, keeps me warm, hides my boobs) or take jacket off (keeps jacket clean, might be more comfy), Put laptop on lap, put laptop on table? Cross legs?

And so on.

Endless it is.

Problem is right when I got settled that’s when the stranger arrived. With some fifty other feasible places to sit, he chose to sit directly in front of me, in a position where his line of vision crashes and smacks mine. I can’t even hide behind my laptop.

The stare down begins.

So far, in the last hour, I’ve noted his outdated sneakers (I mean 1980’s black checkered Vans) and his need to pull his hat over his head and nap. I’ve taken random glances when he wasn’t looking, but really wished I had a note on the back of my laptop that read:

This is an experiment—I have Aspergers. Don’t expect me to look you in the eyes or respond to your existence, unless you are a woman my age or very old and safe looking. Or a child. Or a dog. Or even a bird. But if you are a man, beware. You’re invisible. Kind of…..

I really have to pee, now.

I have a laptop, and thusly, in order to vacate my spot, I will have the task of stuffing the laptop in my computer case. That in and of itself, is difficult. I am not very coordinated. Stuffing things inside other things is not my forte. In fact, trying to fit anything inside anything is hard. (I’m embarrassed now, as this someone how once again seems sexual. Like I said, I’m twelve inside.)

Think folding chairs into folding chair’s bag….panic attack. I don’t know which side goes in first. And then I get all bothered with everything that sticks and snags and acts stubborn. I often carry my portable lawn chair in one hand and the designated bag for said chair in the other hand. It’s just how my life is.

I have to figure out if I am going to ask the very, very kind looking woman at the table diagonal to me if she would watch my laptop. However she is deep in conversation, and though her friendly eyes beckon me, I cannot help but visualize her running away with my laptop, all the while smiling in her delight, and screaming: “Ha, ha!  You are over-trusting!”

I am now starting to run through in my brain the very feasible scenario of what will happen if I do in fact piddle in my pants.

I really want to keep my place, my cozy spot on the couch; so I am setting my book on the coffee table alongside my scarf, and letting the thoughts of new book and pretty purple ruffled scarf being stolen saturate and then spill out of my brain. I take in a deep breath, wondering if the bow in the back of my coat is in actuality cute or just plain silly for my age.

Deep sigh, stepping forward, while balancing laptop. Glancing back to reassure myself that my spot is still marked and claimed. Thoughts of a dog peeing on a bush to claim his territory enter briefly. Wondering if anyone is in the bathroom and hoping I can reach the sanctuary of the porcelain pot in time.

Passing people.

Standing upright, trying to look confident. Knowing when I stand too upright that my body is bendy-like and I look like a stretchy doll. Smiling, knowing I don’t feel natural when I smile and that likely my eyes are super wide, eyebrows raised, and I look freakishly over-caffeinated.

“Squirrel. Squirrel!” The dog barked in full elation: That sums up my expression, surely.

And so the first threshold is reached:

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Back stepping. Where is the dishes window? WHAT is a dishes window. Holding legs closer together. Calculating if I feasibly have enough time left.

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Which one do I take. “Excuse me Ms. Is this the right key?” Holding any random key up. Wondering how many bathroom doors there will be.

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Go through door to find long hallways and more doors and more signs!!!

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Indeed. More directions. Lovely.

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Staring this image down. What if someone is already inside? I hear water running. Do I wait?

How do I scan this fricken plastic card?

A lovely young man arrives, and smiles. “Do you need help? Are you having trouble figuring out what to do?”

“Ummmm,” I say meekly with goofy teenage-grin. “What if someone is inside? Do I enter?”

He is smiling, I think, but I can’t tell, because I am staring at my boots. He offers: “You can just….”

And POOF, the door magically opens as the other female patron exits, and I slip inside, red-faced and flustered and scolding my cute little kidneys.

Mission accomplished.

Quick photo snap of a relieved woman, looking, (not surprisingly), drunk and haggard.

As I’m summing up the last details of my excursion in typed print, the friendly looking gentlemen to my left (lots of men in this coffee shop) he pauses, and glances my way, and asks, “Would you mind keeping an eye on my laptop for a minute?”

Overly zealously, I accept.

I must look trustworthy, I think. Or remind him of his mother.

The irony of the handsome lad’s question settles.

I spend the next five nervous minutes wondering what I would actually do if someone snatched up his laptop. Would I chase them? Would I scream?

I panic.

So much for designating Thursdays as my public outing days…..