life

Day 178: Sometimes When I Blog…on Caffeine

| Aspergers Girls

Sometimes when I blog…

1. I get concerned about what I write, how I come across, and if I am expressing myself accurately. I mean do people really truly understand how quirky I am? Or do I need to prove it more?

I cleaned my study for 3 hours. Frequent readers will notice the neatly organized shelf. You can clap now. I had caffeine. Can you tell? This is not my normal expression.

2. I worry that I am exposing my inner most secrets to an unknown alien race or zombie civilization…or worse…my mother-in-law.

Yes…I call my dog Spastic Colon…but you should hear the name I called her the other night…She smelled really bad….

3. I stress that I will reach day 366 (leap year) two weeks early, on account that I posted a few times too many in one week; and that in actuality I will be ending my year of blogging short, and thusly lying, and making my whole blog, Everyday Aspergers, one giant scam!!!

Totally off subject….but because of a dear, dear friend…they upgraded our first night stay in Maui from standard room to the 2,000 square foot Penthouse with ocean views…..Yes….this was AWESOME

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View from the PENTHOUSE. When in line for free veggie burgers, I was giggling and saying loudly in line: “Boys, should we go back to our PENTHOUSE after this.” And “Wow, I can’t wait to gather at the PENTHOUSE later.”

4. I laugh when my sons inquire when I am going to add advertisements to my posts to start rolling in the cash.

My youngest asks everyday when he can get a high paying job and who employs ten year olds. Today he said that he has everything he wants in life and is so happy he can cry. Amazing what an I-Pod Touch and a Slip-N-Slide can do for a kid! Of course I said, “The test is to be this happy when things aren’t going perfectly well.” He said, “I know.” And then I started thinking I still have a lot of practicing to do until I fully understand that concept myself. Like when it’s the tenth day of no fricken sun in Washington come fall.

5. I miss commenters, wonder what they are like in person, and wish I could visit each and every single person who visits my blog. I think about how long this would take, how much money, and which places in the world have the very best chocolate.

Maui has a secret place in the mountains where you can find fresh baked banana bread (from banana trees on property) with bread dipped in chocolate and ice-cream in the middle. If you send me a ticket to Maui, I’ll take you there!!!

6. I make super good friends that I talk to every single day (AlienHippy) and share intimate details of my life with, and get to act like I’m twelve, and giggle, and joke, and talk about my wood elf fantasy life, and count the months (36) until I can fly to England and meet her!!!

A magical elf land photo just for you AlienHippy. I can’t wait for you to take me to the magical forests in England and introduce me to the Elf People!!! Yay!! he he (Photo on yesterday’s walk)

7. I get obsessed about photography. Every moment is an opportunity to share my world with people! A hailstorm. A party. A stream. A tree. Heck, even a sock nailed to a post. Everything is more exciting and worthy of sharing!!!

Hail on my birthday!!! The Gods were celebrating!

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Freak storm with lightening and thunder and hail! Happy Birthday to me!

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Coming down in buckets. Neighbor said she hadn’t seen the likes of a storm like this in years! July 2012 Yep…..SUMMER

8. I wake up in the middle of the night with the best poem in all the universes, and scribe the words in detail, only to awake in the morning thinking who wrote this poop? Then I spend two hours re-crafting my words, and feel like a genius, when my sea sister , blog brother , Sweet Angel, or long time supporter, George, compliment me. If they only could see the original draft…we’d all get a good laugh then.

I love this photo….maybe a poem….Sail on mice and wheat grass of ebony mountains with Robin Hood.

9. I wait nervously staring at the computer, waiting for that first comment to validate that I actually communicated and sent my thoughts out into cyberspace to be tracked and received by a real person.

Sending out an S.O.S.

10. I want to stop! I want to quit! I want to say enough. Until I get a message from a female with Aspergers saying how much my words mean to her. Then I tear up, and my heart swells big, and I know I am on the right path, or I am the Grinch…or something like the Grinch, with an over-sized heart who wants to join hands and sing around a tree.

Boardwalk Path through state park yesterday. 🙂

11. I get obsessed with stat numbers that catch my attention. Like today 66,600 visits was the total around mid-afternoon, and I just couldn’t settle my mind until the three sixes disappeared all together. Or the 513 subscriber. I love 13, and was so giddy at the 13; that subscriber 514 was a wee bit of a letdown. And at one point today, my post 116 Reasons I Know I Have Aspergers had exactly 116 views! Now that was coolness to the max. Did I mention the quirky aspect?

Lucky me!!! Three deer. Count them. Three, stopped in front of my van in Pacific Grove, California when I was about to make a right turn. 🙂 “Oh, I have to take these photos for my blog!” Boys: Rolling eyes.

12. I meet another blogger in real life!!! Someone I didn’t know at all 4.5 months ago, that now is a part of my waking, walking, breathing, flesh world! We live 11 hours away from each other. And turns out our parents live about one mile from one another, and we both lived in WA and CA at different parts of our lives. And we both have a great “drunk” look, without a drop of alcohol. By the way K, my husband said he thinks you’re hot. (My biggest worry in meeting K was that she would finally discover how my I-Mac computer is god-like in its ability to hide my wrinkles and shrink my nose in up close photo shots.)

Cutie K, laughing!

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Our “How sweet our we?” Pose

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Our drunken pose….seen late at night in local dive bars….lol My nose is not that big….it’s the angle….my husband reassured me..several times

13. Oh….and I sometimes forget what I was going to do. Here’s the sock photo.

A sock photo taken entirely for your enjoyment.

14. I spend up to three hours looking for the perfect song to match my mood.

15. I say WHAT THE HECK!!! LIVE a LITTLE, GIRLFRIEND! No one, absolutely no one, will care if you publish at 11:53 pm, instead of midnight, and count the post as the next day’s post. It’s okay. Really. It’s all going to be Okay!

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I was having a really good hair day in this photo. Don’t you think?

July 2012 With a kind friend in California

Day 171: Release

| Aspergers Girls

Jealousy. Your voice loud and rhythmic, unceasing, like hornets droning piercing words into ear. You buzz, forging into the depth of my mind. Stinging eruption. To feed you, to return to hive, to calm your fury-dance, I submit to my weakness, my self-doubt, my agony. Submit and release, and whisper across your wings, I am beauty infinite.

Anger. Your drumming eternal. Imploding and exploding simultaneously. Releasing your nectar poison, red army ants feasting on organs. Nibble bite, nibble bite. Appetite continuous circle, no tail, no mouth, only motion. Captive screaming in pain; until released with open arms to the enveloping space. Accept all that enters, so same door may provide exit. To the torture, bid goodbye as lady kisses sailor to sea. To return with gifts and longing, when empty heart is stirred again.

Grief. Your fingers dip inside me, a thirsty stranger reaching in to drink. I am lessened, depleted, dried, and withered, and left again with twisted thoughts of what ifs, where, and when. Now, this moment, no longer exists, only dancing shadows that turn and move wildly in search of clothes they cannot wear and mouths that cannot move. Your voice is shallow. Your echo deep. Penetrating the very essence of my love-filled being. I remove you slowly, through tears, replenish body by giving freely the desired water to earthly dweller.

Remorse. Time is a player. He cascades across hallways of the past. Time playing in time. Not a man, nor woman, not beast, or plant. But an illusion. Some witness of a passing that does not exist. An invisible keeper of invisible existence. Back and back, revisiting the avenues of sadness. Turn back the clock to appease the dragon, only to be set afire. Singed and ash-covered by pretend foe. To return and breathe in emptiness, where cloaked imaginings cannot wander or exist. To arise unscorched like phoenix through forgiving sun. Bid mind’s searching goodbye. Leaning into the hope and promise of new day.

Lust. Awe, sweet angel dressed in black. You feed off of soul. Tempting the temptress, warming the warmer, cascading round pools of opportunity. I see you swerving, a lady of painted words. Come hither forward and fill me true with wishes of what will be, if given chance. Come hither forward, too, and show thy whole self, the aftermath and consequence. The red of what bleeds through when nothing covers soul but enchanting mystery. I give in and feel the eruption, caressing the dreams, only to rise half-full and more hungered. The more you entice, the more I search. Until at last I come home, with appetite for self, moving beyond the promises that hide behind unknown curtains.

Want. I breathe in the sunshine of your valleys, the moon of your sea, the gelatin of bone. I wear you. The finest cloth and richest jewels. I twirl and spin, a child in her dressing game. Giggles of delight. A borrower, a lender not. A giver tainted. A sunlit smile turned over for inspection. Take. Possess. Own. Obtain. Grab. Hoard. Stop. This need. Turn inward to the greatest castles of existence. The mountains filled with treasures buried within the endless soul. Searching not for what is lacking but what is already given. The limitless capacity for growth and transition. The all-encompassing ability to love immensely within an eternity of release.

Day 170: The Broken Board

| Aspergers Girls

A bunion of a gal, I called Cousin Betty, leaned on a century-old redwood tree picking at a quarter-size scab on her elbow.  She was unsightly, red all over with flakes of skin saluting the wind.  When I thought about Betty, I visualized a witch hunched over a littered kitchen table yanking on the blue ligaments of a cold chicken leg with her silver-crowned, tobacco-stained teeth.

I couldn’t help myself.

 

This complete 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 168: A Time of Zero

| Aspergers Girls
Washington 2012
Nature Trail
“All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking”

Friedrich Nietzsche

“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.”~ Rachel Carson

“There is new life in the soil. There is healing in the trees for tired minds and for our overburdened spirits, there is great strength in the hills, if only we will lift up our eyes. Remember that nature is your great restorer.” ~ Calvin Coolidge

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the wind longs to play with your hair.” – Kahil Gibran

“Rivers and rocks and trees have always been talking to us, but we’ve forgotten how to listen.” – Michael Roads

“The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely, or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature.” ~Anne Frank

Time of Zero

Nocturnal spirit

 Split

Blanketed in thankfulness

Rests beside self

One to the other

Connected

Time erased

Young child weeping

Tear catcher

Smiling

Living in thought’s forest

A time

Of zero

When all was

When silence whispered secrets

And babe of the evergreen

Opened to discovery

Beneath the giggling trees

Illusion vanished

The puzzle box picture

The patterned pieces

Scattered

Until invisible

And the corridors of phantom’s dreams

Released fully

With angelic breath

~

Sam Craft June 2012

Day 160: Decreasing Photons

| Aspergers Girls

I have the hardest time writing when I am trying not to confront what is troubling my mind.

At those times, when angst is knocking on spirit’s door, I tend to write romantic and lust-filled poetry, or distract myself with stories from the past. I tend to grasp onto my muse, my anchor, a jolt that compels me into another state of reality.

Today I am insecure. I am insecure about my appearance, my personhood, my ability to shine, and my very spirit. I am looping in thought. And the taters are hitting the fan. I am worried that I am not enough, even though innately I know I am. I am worried that I am a facade, even though at my core I know I am authentic. I am worried about my health and a host of other items.

Insecurity is an emotion I’ve dealt with pretty much my entire life on earth, at least ever since my mother and father divorced. My insecurity quadrupled in size when my mother divorced my stepfather, and I was never able to see my step brothers and sisters again. My insecurity grew when my best friend was kidnapped, my pets died as I predicted, my homes constantly changed, and my mother became lost in her own world. The emotion mutated and divided when I mistook a teenager for the man I would marry someday and teenage girls for trusted confidants. And grownups as safety. The emotion enveloped the whole of me when I reached adulthood and realized I was very much still an infant.

I remember being so brave, so strong, and trying and trying to do the right thing. If I could only do the right thing, then life would be manageable. I remember with clarity the day my friends collected starfish on the ocean shore; I remember running up the sandy hill to the the truck, and hovering in the camper shell weeping, because no one would listen as I cried and shouted on the beach that the starfish were living creatures, and my friends were killing them. I remember lots of times crying in enclosed spaces…in tents, in closets, under covers, in bushes….anywhere I could escape the sadness surrounding me.

I figured if I tried hard enough, I could make a difference in my world and within myself. Take away the horrible pain. I thought if I tried enough, I too would get the promises, the opportunity, the good stuff.

I tried so hard that I succeeded in many ways, I gather. Only I don’t know what I succeeded in or for whom.

I like to pretend sometimes I have the answers.

I like to pretend I am carrying this grand light of wisdom and trust, of faith and hope, of all things precious and divine.

I like to pretend ego is in the backseat, Source at the wheel, and my present moment is the only one that matters.

I like to pretend.

I can’t tell imaginings from reality. I can’t find the line. I doubt the line even exists.

Sometimes I think I shine too much. Sometimes I think I lost the earthly cloak that stops the inner glow, that stops me from becoming depleted. I wonder what I’ve given up in order to shine. I wonder if the dark is perhaps a better place to go.

I thought writing would be my avenue, my escape, a way I could finally be me. But the pressure is building and the patterns are starting, and everything seems a repeat. Again I am soother,  lifter, giver, sweet Sam, adored,  gentle, kind…so kind. I’m still flawed. I get that. I’m not perfect. But I lean to the side of trying to be perfect, trying to be what I think others want to see. I make others my gods, my suitor, my love. I make people my exact reflection; their opinions my barometer. I see in my own mirror what I imagine others see. And then I tell myself not to. To stop. To trust. And then I wonder what and whom to trust, when my very existence seems a dream.

No matter how many times I tell myself I am enough, I still search. I think that if a certain person loves me then everything else will be erased. I dream of being rescued. I dream of escaping this life. A life that by most standards is wonderful. I have no idea where I would escape to. I have absolutely no idea. I just know I long to escape.

My mind is constant. Everything and everyone is questioned. Each comment I answer is weighted and analyzed. Each word I write a drop of blood, a hope that I spoke correctly, I answered honestly, I did my best. Each letter of the alphabet carries the weight of an elephant.

Typing is not typing. Typing is risking. Each word leads to thoughts. Each thought to more evaluation. Why do I care? Why can’t I let go? Why can I not accept me? Why does one person hold my world and my worth? Why can I not care only about the other and not about me? Why is my ego still here? Why do I have any motive at all except love? What is the right amount of drive? Am I too driven? Am I not driven enough? Am I too honest? Am I not honest enough? What is telling the whole truth, if not laying out my emotions? What is truth?

And yes, what of this light? This grand light? Is it anything beyond descending and decreasing photons………….

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