The last post- new blog link

The link to the new blog!

A reminder: the new blog is just me talking/rambling/babbling about whatever I fee like. It won't be very Autism-centric. In fact, it will probably be more art-centric. It will also be extremely informal. There is no schedule, no set length, and no real rhyme or reason to my subject matter other than I felt like talking about them.

The title is "From the Mind of an Oddball".

I like this title.

I guess the only thing left to do is bid adieu to those not following the new blog, and say "see you there!" to those who will.

Sayonara,
--Ilsa Kasmar

The second to last post

I almost skipped moving the blog, but since I said I'd do it today, I will make sure I actually do it.

So, the personal change I referred to in the previous post is this: I learned that trying too hard in social situations is not helpful. In fact, it makes it worse sometimes.

Social situations, to me, always felt like a quiz or a test. And I always got as nervous as I would before a quiz or test. I tried to always be "on", always work hard at being... Well, I'm not really sure. Being better, maybe.

It's not really surprising that didn't work out.

I always tried to have something to say, to not let the conversation drop, to be witty... But sometimes it's best to say nothing at all.

I guess I thought I needed to overcompensate, because of the Asperger's. (Well, just Autism now.)

I finally figured out that is doing more harm than good. And in doing so, I finally learned to just... relax. "Be myself", I guess, but I'm done trying to define what "myself" is. I guess "myself" is just what I say and do when I'm not trying to be someone else.

Whatever.

Anyways, now that I've relaxed, I kind of also accepted that I am and always will be Autistic. I'm not as angry anymore. And I don't care as much anymore. It's not the most important thing to me anymore; not the most important part of "myself".

So, that's another reason I'm shutting down Ask an Aspie/The Asperger Chronicles: I'm not thinking about it as much, so I don't have as much to say.

Though, to be honest, I think I ran out of things to say awhile ago. ^^'

So, maybe I'll post every now and again, if I have something about Autism I want to write a piece on that people will see. But for the most part, this will just stay here, floating around.

Meanwhile, if you like my rambles, that's what the new blog will be for!

So I will go set that up. :)

Thanks for reading,
--Ilsa Kasmar

I am moving the blog... Tomorrow.

Yes, the title is true- I am moving the blog to Tumblr... tomorrow. I meant to do it today but I had stuff I was doing, and I am too tired right now. I mostly know this because I kept trying to come up with a name for the new blog, and nothing fit right.

Once I have it set up (which will be easy as hell, god I love Tumblr) I will have my last post on this blog be the new web address. Though, come to think of it, I think I have one last thing to post before that.

That being said, it WILL have a different name, and it won't be Asperger-centric at all anymore. It'll just be about... Well, basically, whatever I want it to. Mostly Art & Geek stuff, is my bet.

I kind of started this as a way of explaining Asperger's to people. I wanted people to hear what it's like from the inside. That's why I called it Ask An Aspie-- if you want to know what Asperger's is like, ask an Aspie!

As Asperger's no longer exists, it kind of makes sense for me to kind of end this project.

Plus, I went through a personal change where I think I finally learned some things that... Well, you can read about it tomorrow. :)

When I have the link set up, feel free to track my new blog. It'll be a lot less "thoughts on Asperger's and Neurodiversity" and more "here's the status of my life/thoughts/this cool thing I found", but if you want to read about that stuff, then hooray!

However, this blog is NOT GETTING DELETED. It's going to stay up, sort of like a digital monument, that people might come and visit from time to time. It still has some good stuff in it, after all.

So, don't worry. The old stuff will stay here, and maybe I'll even update from time to time, when I have things to say about Autism.

But this is not going to be a main blog any more. That's what the NEW BLOG will be. (And I just realized I know what to name it. Ooh, this'll be fun.)

And on that note, I'm going to go bed before I pass out and/or start sleep-blogging. (if that ever happens, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE)

See you tomorrow!
--Ilsa

Sigh.

Ugh. I am so sick of technology not working the way it should. 

My iPad's browser crashes when I have more than two tabs open, or even if I'm not, especially with webcomics. No, it's not because I leave a bunch of apps running in the background, and yes, I've tried browsers other than Safari on it.

My laptop is generally slow and it has a bunch of bugs my Dad can't or won't fix. And he's basically a computer genius, so if he can't, it probably can't be done. Actually, I've lost track of the things that annoy me about my laptop.

And my iPhone, which has always been the most stable, suddenly flipped out on me today and froze. It was barely worth noticing, since it resolved itself quickly, but I'm worried that it's going to start having issues too.

If I could, I would just replace all of them. I mean, all of my technology is out-of-date anyways, by at least 2 years. (I think.) However, that would be hella expensive.

I think what I need to do is come up with a way to replace them, but make the replacements last longer.

For example, instead of a smartphone, get something like the Rugby -- which is extremely tough -- that doesn't have all the fancy stuff I don't really need. I mean, yes, I need to make calls on it, and I'd PREFER it if it could play music, but the rest I really don't need much. And as for music, I could always get an iPod shuffle or something.

And instead of an iPad and a laptop, just have a laptop. Maybe a smaller one, that is iPad-sized, and preferably a Mac. And this time, I'll actually read the manual so I generally know what I'm doing.

Because really, when I am living on my own, I'm going to have a much smaller budget. I need to plan accordingly.

I wish I could skip ahead a few years in life when I am independent, have money, and working. And hopefully, have a successful webcomic.

Because I'm pretty sure I have to go to art school, and be dependent on my parents, for a few more years.

Sure, I could do some shit job that I hate and save up enough money to move out and live on my own, but I don't think that's a great option either.

The only thing I could think of that I might like and that I could probably do NOW is storyboarding, but I'm pretty sure I'd have to move to California to do that, and finding a job would still be hell.

Maybe I could be an intern or assistant for an Illustrator here, or something. I'll ask around.

I know I've written about this probably the last 3 posts I've done, but that's because it's on my mind, and I still can't figure out a solution to it.

I'm unhappy with my life the way it is now. I mean, sure, it's break and stuff, and I love drawing TIS, (short for The Ilsa Show, because whenever I type "webcomic", it gets autocorrected to "Webcomic") but I'm looking towards the future and I'm unhappy with what I see.

I know, I know, it could be a lot worse. I probably shouldn't complain, or be unhappy about it. But this is how I feel, regardless.

I guess I have always wished the world would be perfect, or at least MY world, and it's not, and it bothers me. 

I think I deserve better than what I'm getting. I deserve to be doing what I love and making money at it. And maybe I will, down the road, but that's not where I am now.

Because what I really love is drawing TIS specifically, and drawing in general. But despite the skills I already have, I know it's not enough,  and it will take me awhile until I get good enough.

Being an adult sucks. :/

The webcomic has launched!

That's right! My webcomic, The Ilsa Show, officially launched last night. Website, Facebook page, Twitter: @TheIlsaShow.

The reason I did not post about this earlier was:

1. When the first comic was finally posted--marking the official launch-- it was 10 PM. I went to bed as soon as it was up.

2. I spent most of TODAY cleaning up and then posting some of my stockpiled comics. Yes, having a buffer (comics that you have saved up in case you can't get enough cranked out in time for the update) is important. However, I know from reading webcomics my entire life that it is hard to get into a comic when they only have 1 page up. I think I actually have 4 up, which is still not that much. So yeah, it was necessary.

3. Once I finished doing that stuff, the lat thing I wanted to do was write a blog post. I wanted to either draw more things or take a break. And I took a break, mainly because I had a sort of headache.


Anyways, I am very excited about this! I've actually wanted to do this for awhile, but it wasn't until recently that I got a nudge in the right direction.

If the comic gets popular enough, I will put in a donation thingy and move it to its own website. I really, really want it to get that popular, but these things take time.

It's actually been my dream for years to make a living via webcomickery. I'm definitely a lot closer to that now. It could take years, or never happen, but there's a chance now, at least. Yay!

To my grandparents: since I know you are reading this, I just want to warn you that the stuff I post may not be to your taste. View with caution.

I think I'm going to go draw more things now. Ta!

A stroke of luck

So, thanks to my friend Jeff, I now have a scanner! Turns out his family was looking to give it away for a year or two. They only reason they didn't want it was because it didn't handle photo negatives well (it didn't have automatic dust removal) so they had gotten a new one. Since I don't need it for photo negatives, I just need it for drawings, I happily took it off their hands. (For free, even!)

So yay, that's one less issue with getting the webcomic off the ground. Next week I'm meeting with Lisa (Lisa Island, of Social Bridge) and she'll help me set up the social media stuff. So the webcomic could be up as soon as next week!

Crap, I better draw some more comics! XD

But in all seriousness, I'm actually really excited. The sooner the webcomic goes up, the sooner I get more fans and such.

I'm kind of not-so-secretly hoping the webcomic gets popular enough that it ends up being my job. Or at least, some sort of supplementary income.

But most likely, if that happens at all, it'll be years from now. *sigh*

However, another ray of hope has broken through the clouds of my worries! Jeff, you see, is an aspiring filmmaker! And I have agreed to do storyboarding for him.

I'm not going to be making any money or anything, but it could lead to more things.

I had actually looked into internships for storyboarding but found that everything seemed to be in California. If I recall correctly, I posted about this earlier.

But this could be something to put on my résumé later. And could lead to more jobs.

And if I'm really lucky, Jeff will become a famous director and I'll be along for the ride. I doubt that's going to happen anytime soon, though.

What makes me happy is I can see a path now, a small trail through the dense jungle of life. Things are starting to come together.

Maybe my luck is changing for the better. (I just jinxed it, damn!) Or maybe someone "up there" heard me when I asked for help.

Or, most likely, all the hard work and drive to succeed is finally starting to pay off.

Whatever it is, I'm glad.

Blah.

Sigh. I keep trying to find the right college to get a BA in, but nowhere I look seems to be the right place for me. In Washington, anyways-- there are plenty of good schools out of state, but that's not really an option for me.

It's not like I was expecting to find the perfect opportunity ever -- well, okay, maybe I was hoping desperately for it -- but I guess I was expecting better. Evergreen was looking good, right up until I found out I'd have to MAKE my own BA. Which sounds perfect in theory, but in practice, I suspect would be insane.

I just wish I could be some sort of Assistant Illustrator for a couple years until I'm good enough to be one myself. Or, better yet, maybe the webcomic turns out to be a huge success...

Pfft! Yeah right.

(Oh god please let it be a success. Please, oh please...)

I guess I should feel lucky to have a mentor (sorta) in the Illustration field, but as far as I can figure, it looks like I'm going to be going to a college that only kinda works for four years while I work my ass off to get better, and then have a mostly useless degree. And THEN I can start doing interesting stuff.

That sounds kinda bleak to me. I guess I have my fingers crossed for a stroke of luck (or genius) that will let me skip to the Illustrating part.

I've never been able to count on good luck, and I doubt that I can take a shortcut.

Okay, okay, I know, I do have it pretty good, and everyone has to pay their dues and stuff. But... Well... It sucks.

I'm actually half- hoping that by posting about it, the wisdom of the crowd will help me out somehow. Posting stuff on the Internet is like panning for gold-- you have to sift through layers of useless crap, but there's a chance you'll find a golden nugget hidden amongst the rest.

But probably not.

Oh well. Time to go do something productive now.

Trogdoooooos!

Hey y'all,

Sorry for the radio silence lately. I'll try to be more regular about my updates.

I'm working on a webcomic, and once I have everything set up, I'll link it here.

I'm really excited about the webcomic, because in addition to doing what I love, I've figured out you end up meeting other webcomic artists. And I have a lot of people who's comics I read, and there's a bunch of them I've been wanting to meet since forever. (Mookie, of Dominic Deegan: Oracle for Hire, is a big one!)

I hope meeting Internet peeps extends beyond webcomic folks, though. I've been watching Epic Rap Battles of History lately, and I realized I memorized the Bill Gates vs. Steve Jobs one BY ACCIDENT. I've just watched it that many times. Because it's awesome. But my second favorite is definitely Albert Einstein vs. Steven Hawking. No big surprise I like the nerdy ones.

I really hope I get to meet those guys! They seem like fun dudes. And when they show behind the scenes, it becomes obvious that they put a LOT of work into their videos. And they pretty much do it for free! You rock, guys!

Besides... Seeing NicePeter dressed up as the David Tennant Dr. Who got me all hot and bothered. Mmm, sexy geek Time Lord...

Yeah, I love David Tennant as Dr. Who. Anyone who does a good cosplay of him automatically becomes sexy.

Well, to me, anyways.

Anyways, I'll try to post more regularly, but I'm doing a lot of work on the comic right now. But once that's up, you can enjoy my weird rambles much more regularly!

Wheeeee!

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee

Since yesterday's post was kinda depressing, I decided to post today, now that I'm happier, to balance it out.

I read a lot of Webcomics, and this fact has given me a tremendous advantage. Because even though I wasn't drawing my whole life, I was usually reading the blog posts of the artists. So I know artsy things!

Unfortunately, this means sometimes I hear about some kind of technology they have, and I bemoan my lack of it. Artists have some seriously cool tech sometimes.

Like those computers where you can draw on the screen with one of those special pens? Oh my god. So sexy. I want one.

However, I have no idea what it's called,  and it's probably incredibly expensive. Theoretically, you could do the same thing on an iPad with your finger-- I have a couple of apps that let you draw on them and stuff-- but I have to zoom in a lot. And of the two apps I have that do this (which were, compared to most apps, incredibly expensive themselves) only give you one size of document. Sure, you can crop it and stuff. But the point is, it's kind of unwieldy for what I wanted to do.

Plus, there's the whole matter of me sucking at drawing on the computer.

I know I've said this before, but it frustrates me to no end. Because of the way I sort of taught myself to draw (which was doodling stuff randomly) my style didn't need to be very clean. Because on paper, I can do it in a way that still looks good.

But on the computer, I can't really do that. Because I can zoom in and see every tiny flaw in amaaaazing detail. Then I try to fix it, and it's really obvious I tried to fix it.

Plus, on the computer, I always feel like I should do, you know, color and shading and folds and stuff. Which I never really learned to do. >_>

The joys of having no formal training whatsoever.

I mean, sure there are people who are self-taught who are still really good and stuff. But that's because they always took their art seriously. I didn't really do that-- art was just a fun thing I liked to do. And I always figured I wouldn't be good enough to play with the big boys, so I never tried really hard to learn and perfect and make it gorgeous. I just dicked around to pass the time and have some fun.

So going from "well, I doodle and stuff sometimes" to the realm of Serious Artists (which I kind of think is hilarious sometimes) makes me really nervous. Some of the Serious Artists are also really snobby, so I've always liked to poke fun at them in my head.

Gah. I actually have to work hard at art now. So weird.

I kind of hope that the Art College I pick will have a vibe like my drawing class next quarter will. I know the professor, and I've actually taken his class before-- I just couldn't finish it due to a really severe illness-- so I know it's a good atmosphere. Dale (he tells us to call him that) is really nice and relaxed and--

OH MY GOD I'M A DUMBASS. Why didn't I think to ask the Professor about Art College recommendations?!

Wow. Why the hell didn't I think of that before?

Bah. Oh well. I thought of it now.

Well, this should be interesting.

Ups and Downs of life

I've been thinking a lot about drawing. And it occurred to me that at my skill level, doing those basic storyboards for animated films would be possible. I could maybe look for an unpaid internship for something like that. This idea got me all excited, that I could start drawing for money NOW instead of going through 4 years of art school first.

Only one problem: all the internships like that are in California.

I guess it makes sense, since that's where Hollywood is. Unfortunately that means not so much on the internships.

Now, if this were a movie of my life instead of my actual life, here's what I would do: drive down to California, get some shit job like washing dishes to pay the rent. I would keep applying, keep looking, and just when I was about to pack up and go home, I would magically get my Big Break.

Unfortunately, life doesn't really work like that. So, more likely: art school that costs a friggin' fortune for four years, then I finally get to start looking for jobs. Woo.

What got the former idea to play around in my head in the first place, is I was watching the director of Ratatouille talk about how he got in, and he said he made an animated short (which apparently he finished at fourteen years old)and when he sent it to Disney, they basically said, "hey the next time you're in LA there's a job for you."

I grew up spending more time watching movies than talking to people, so I've only recently realized that these kinds of stories are basically fairy tales. Sure, they happen, but the reason they're remarkable is that they hardly ever happens that way. I've decided to call this way of thinking "Hollywood Logic"; in a perfect world, it would work. Or if I was just really, really lucky. (Actually, if I were really lucky, I would have just grown up in California.)

Well, I guess it's just as well-- I'm more interested in Illustration. I just latched onto the idea because then I might be able to, you know, start sooner.

That being said, if there's a deity listening: considering all the crap I've been through so far, do you think you could give me some sort of, y'know, luck? A leg up? It would be nice.

Life has been hard, primarily because of the Asperger's, but also because of other stuff. And after all that, it kind of feels like Whoever Runs The Universe owes me. Or that it should balance out somehow, because life was so shitty before, it should be really awesome later.

But probably, everyone feels that way to some extent. (Or everyone in America, at least.) We all feel like we've worked hard and deserve to be rewarded with more than we're getting. And that's part of being human: we always want more. The trick to being happy is, I guess, learning to enjoy what we have.

I try to live by that, but when I hit these little mini depressive episodes, it can be really, really hard. (No, I'm not bipolar, and medications wouldn't help me with this.)

Oh well. Whatever it is, though, I'll live through it.

In the mean time, I should watch Mulan or something to put me in a better mood.

I MADE VIDEO BLOGS!

I made 3 vlogs (video blogs) about my trip to the Cornish Arts & Design open house; Before, During, and After. I thought that the readers who haven't seen my face before might like it, and for the rest of you, well, I dunno.

But hey, it's a video blog! Cool, right?

Before:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h9N6iwv871c


During:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0n1KfBXWpI&feature=plcp


After:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=euOaVN_kkuY&feature=plcp



I'm sorry about the awful angles and sound. And eye contact, but that can't really be helped.

Let me know if this is a cool way of keeping up with my blog. If people like it, I will continue.

Laters!

Return of the EEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!


Okay, now I feel better. I needed to get that out of my system.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I've been doing a lot of thinking today, and I worked through one of the larger worries I've had looming over me.

One of the (many) anxieties that has been running laps in my brain is the thought that maybe I'm not really an Artist, because there were long periods of time in my life when I wasn't drawing. The reason and "artist" is capitalized and the reason I was worried about it are one and the same: Artists are a kind of clique, like Writers, or Goths, or Electroneurodiagnostic Technologists.

I don't know if most people realize it, but pretty much everything you do, you ARE part of a clique. You might become part of a group based on something physical: skin color, hair color, clothing style (which is complicated enough to melt my brain), whatever. Or your type of career: Healthcare Worker, Government Employee (ew), Firefighter, IT, whatever. Or about a million other things I could name, but I won't, because that would take a really long goddamn time.

I call cliques "tribes" in my head because it's fitting and the word itself explains why we do it in the first place: we want to be part of a group. We feel safe that way, accepted on a basic human level (it's actually on Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, in case you think I'm full of crap). Plus, we get to feel superior to those who aren't One Of The Tribe.

Of course, The Tribe can be subdivided into other kinds of Tribes. Holey cheese, what is it about human beings that we need to make things so incredibly complicated? 

So, back on topic: Artists are one of the many kinds of tribes. And now that I want to go into an artistic field, I was kind of wondering whether I would be accepted as an Artist. (Which would really help me get along with my colleagues.) Or whether I even consider myself an Artist. I mean, unlike a lot of (if not most of) people who go into creative fields, I am not 100% head-over-heels in love with drawing. I love drawing, but not as extremely as some folks are.

But I finally figured out why. Drawing is my special interest, but I learned a long time ago that if I let myself get sucked into it completely, I wouldn't be able to function very well in the rest of life. Because I'm on the Spectrum, I use up a lot of energy doing all the rest of life. The normal stuff, like school, chores, my social life, etc, are hard for me. So in order to do well enough to pass for normal, (which has been my main focus since I found out I have Asperger's Syndrome, and before that I wasn't even functional anyways) I have to devote a lot of thought to them. So I kind of had to push drawing to the side. I had to kind of push my Special Interests into a corner in order to get by.

But if my job, and therefore a large portion of my life, actually revolved around my special interest(s), then I wouldn't have to shove them in a corner.

Which would be wonderful.

I've been worried about whether I would stop finding art fun after doing it 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. (Or more!) And based on this train of thought, I think the answer will end up being no; it'll still be fun. Sure, there might be days I come home thinking oh my god, I never want to draw again. But I doubt that will be every day. I might not wake up thinking "oh boy, I get to go to work today!" But I probably won't learn to hate it either.

Granted, this is all speculation... And between thinking about it and then writing this up, I've used up an hour I could have been doing one of the gajillion other things I need to do... And this doesn't actually change much...

But it makes me feel a lot better. So I'm not going to feel guilty about it. (Yes, I really am that hard on myself.)

I guess sometimes it's helpful to just think about things.


On a completely unrelated note: my legs still kind of hurt from running. And the next two runs are going to utterly suck: 

1. 5 minute warm up walk, 8 minute jog, 5 minute walk, 8 minute jog, 5 minute cool down walk.
2. 5 minute warm up walk, 20 minute jog, 5 minute cool down walk.

I'm going to diiiiieee...


Another random thing: one of these days, I will do the following:

1. Make a list of all the Tribes I fit into,
2. Do research on various animals and see which fits my personality the best,
3. Make a list of all the things I eventually want to do. (Like this list, only a lot longer...)

Those first two would be interesting, and the last would be helpful and possibly interesting.

Of course, when I will do these things, I have no idea... But it never hurts to write it down. The Upcoming Holidays would be a good time to get it done.

Meh, whatever. For now, I have some things to do, so later!

The Road Not Taken.

I literally stumbled onto the perfect analogy for Asperger's and Autism while I was running today.

Unsurprisingly, running on (human) trails is harder than running on pavement. There are rocks and roots you can trip on, it's wet, has random hills and valleys, and there's really no telling where it leads next, unless you've traveled it before.

Well, that's like most of life for me.

Neurotypicals run on paved areas. Ones that they know are safe, because others have done it. And often, there are other people that travel with them-- so they don't feel lonely, and so they lend each other a helping hand.

That's not what life is like for me. I wake up every morning having pretty much no idea what the day will be like. It could be fairly easy, or it could be uphill all the way.

And no one else really travels with me-- no one else has made the exact same journey. There might be people along the way who have similar experiences, maybe even every now and then someone who has very similar experiences, but no one can tell me where to go. When I reach a fork in the road, I just have to guess. I might have clues to help me, or I might not. It's a crapshoot.

Okay, yeah, some of that is just LIFE. But it's a lot harder for me, because of the Asperger's.

What's amazing is, there are actually harder ways to get around-- following animal trails, or even no trail at all. And that's what life must be like for lower-functioning people on the Spectrum. My heart goes out to them for that.

However, there is something that makes some of the blood, sweat, and tears worthwhile. Maybe you've heard this before:

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

Robert Frost


Lately, I've been finding out that people like me. That they think I'm interesting. And I think that this is why: I took the road less traveled by. (Hee, it rhymes. I should write a poem about it someday.) I have unusual thoughts and opinions, and I think people are drawn to that. (Plus, some people think I'm just rebellious, deliberately defying the rules instead of not knowing them.)

Plus, I've been through a hell of a lot, and I've always worked hard. Much harder than most people think. So when I hit paved road (what I'm good at), after traveling trails most of the time, I take off like a fucking bullet!

So maybe it's not so bad, in the end. Things have begun to balance out, finally.

And that makes all the difference.

----------

The Road Not Taken (c) Robert Frost. The rest of the blog post (c) Ilsa Kasmar.

Philosophical ramble

Urgh. I'm chafing at the bit today.

I have days, sometimes, when I want to just cut loose, go wild, do all the things I'm not supposed to do precisely because I'm not supposed to do them.

This is one of those days.

It turns out people can get away with that when they're teenagers, but not when they're adults.

I never really cut class before. I always did my best to be Ms.goody-two-shoes.

And you know what? It sucks.

I get tired of following the rules, sometimes. Of always doing what I'm supposed to do. I've used up my patience on the ENDT program. I tried to do what I was supposed to do. I tried to stay in line. And it got me absolutely nowhere.

So now I want to stop pretending I'm one of them-- show my true colors, show my wild streak, laugh at how uncomfortable it makes them.

But I won't. That's what being an adult means-- you have to ignore those impulses.

Well, most of the time, anyways. But when I draw and write, I can be as crazy as I want. Creative outlets give me the ability to get my impulses down on paper-- and then let them go. Once something is on paper, it's out of my brain. Sometimes I can just imagine doing something vividly enough that I don't feel the need to do it anymore.

For example, I can imagine punching someone in the face, and it calms me down. Because I can imagine things vividly enough that it feels like I actually did it, sometimes.

I think that's why I like main characters who are kind of assholes-- because they say and do all the things I want to do, but don't, because it's rude or a bad idea.

It's hard to balance what I should do with what I want to do. I don't see it as having difficulty with impulse control-- I just have a lot of impulses. And if I don't indulge some of them, I'll go bonkers.

I'm still figuring out which kinds of impulses are okay to do, and which ones aren't.

A lot of it is, I have gut feelings about things. Intuitions. But I have a hard time separating what my intuition is from my emotional state.

I don't think intuitions are psychic whatevers. I think it's that I pick up on clues I didn't realize I picked up on. And those can be right or wrong, but they're usually right.

Of course, often, there are datum that I don't actually know, that are crucial to understanding...

Sigh.

Life is complicated.

Rambley rambleston

Journal

I don't know what to do anymore. Everything is so damn confusing. I keep getting headaches. I want to go home.

I don't want to have this meeting. I don't think it will help. I don't really think anything will. I've basically lost all hope of passing the ENDT program by now.

That being said, probably anything else would suck just as much. It's still going to be really goddamn hard-- becoming an adult is supposed to be hard.

But still... I still want to quit and go home. I'd be so relieved.

But I have to keep trying. Other people have hope it can work out. So I have to keep going.

Ugh. I'm so tired. I want to go home and sleep-- so I can go back to that dream I was having before.

I dreamt I was in requited love. It was the most amazing feeling. I felt safe and warm and... Happy. Truly happy. That kind of happiness that could keep you warm for the rest of your life.

I dreamt I had a man who I loved, and loved me back. And when he held me, all the things that upset me didn't exist. For a little while, everything felt right in the world, like all the pieces had fallen into their places. I was whole, and fine the way I was.

I wish I could keep that feeling with me all the time. 

If that's really what love really feels like, then no wonder people do crazy things to find it, get it, or keep it.

And why trashy romance novels sell so well.

I wish I could have stayed dreaming. But (cliché alert!) sooner or later, you have to wake up.

Plus, if I hadn't, I would either not remember it at all, or my dreams would have gone completely south. The night before last, I had a pretty bad dream. It bordered on a nightmare. 

Side note: I found out nightmares are the dreams that are so terrifying you wake yourself up, and are afraid to back to sleep. Not just bad dreams- HORRIFIC ones. So I guess I just have "bad dreams", not nightmares.

Anyways. I kind of wish I could get that kind of love I felt in my dream in real life. But love is one of the few things that you can't just get by working harder. I mean, sure, you can try to meet more people, and at places that correspond to your interests and values, but it's primarily a game of chance. It's like the lottery, only a little more likely. You just have to keep playing until your numbers get pulled.

But I guess if all it required was hard work, I would have found my life partner already.

Bah.

Well, whatever. I guess I should go study for my CPR/BLS class or something. I ran out of words.

Stress

Ugh. I'm still so stressed out. I mean, I knew this was going to be bad, but goddamn. I want to crawl into bed and never leave. I want to do nothing.

But I can't, because I have studying to do.

I really, really, really hate this. I don't know whether this is going to get better. I need it to.

I really don't know whether this is something I can handle.

I'm so stressed. I think I'm on the verge of a breakdown.

Apparently, I do this every quarter. So I don't know if this is different.

I just... I wish the quarter was over. I wish I wasn't so overloaded.

I hate having to ask for help, but I guess I need it.

I think I'm doing the Aspie spiral. Because it feels like everything sucks and everything will always suck here. I hope not.

I think I better call in more reinforcements.

Hmmm...

Ugh. I feel like absolute crap right now.

This quarter so far has been really hard for me. I haven't wanted to admit it, but I'm honestly not sure I can do it. And I'm not sure I can be an ENDT. In fact, I'm pretty sure healthcare in general isn't the right field for me.

I've been dragged so far out of my comfort zone. I get up early in the morning and go home late at night. I've been inundated with the sheer amount of material from Neuroanatomy & Physiology, and the Professor has no idea what he's doing, since he has no training or experience with teaching-- and he's also a chiropractor, so it doesn't even relate to my field. They just switched over to a new interface for the hybrid classes (which we use) and it's a complete and total mess-- nothing is working right and no one knows how to use it. So, frequently, the information on the class website is wrong, but I have no idea which is what. Very little of this is presented visually, which is how I NEED it to be to understand it. The other ENDTs mostly don't seem to like me. I'm really bad at making the electrode marks. (There are some other cons to the class, but I'm forgetting them.)

When I work in a hospital, it's going to be just as bad if not worse. I'm going to have to deal with children, which means screaming, crying, and possibly injury-- me and them. (Kids bite!) I have to worry about breaking confidentiality, which is INCREDIBLY complicated. And I have to navigate the inscrutable social rules of Neurotypicals. Not to mention the bad smells and emergency situations. (Apparently, it's actually OFFENSIVE to people to hold your nose when they smell bad. Even if it's completely awful. Wtf?!)

So, yeah, I'm thinking this was a bad idea.

EDIT: venting made me feel better about it. New resolve and all that.

Perfectionism is overrated

Reading about perspective hurts my brain. But it made me realize that there are about a million things to take into consideration when drawing. If something looks funny, you have to ask why. But there are so many things it could be, maybe it's not worth worrying about.

The reason I don't get mad at myself when I make a mistake in knitting is because I keep in mind that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of stiches in any given piece you're making. So one stitch every now and then is still a pretty good batting average.

I'm just now realizing that drawing is a lot more similar than I thought.

I think I'll just draw for fun and not worry about getting it perfect. Besides, art is supposed to be freedom, right?

Stupid wonky sleep schedule.

It turns out when you wake up at 4:30 AM, an hour earlier than you were planning to, there's really not much to do. Go figure.

Oh, by the way...

I decided to change the title of the blog, but I didn't change the URL, because I didn't want to confuse the few fans I have.

And now back to your regularly scheduled rambles.

On drawing... Again

My school schedule has been bipolar lately-- 3 days of OMG SCHOOL TIEM, then 4 days of boredom. To fill the time, I've been playing app games. This is very bad. My problem is I get involved in them to the point that I lose sight of real life. (Back when I was playing computer games, it was much much worse. I would actually forget to eat.)

But it occurred to me that instead of doing that, I could just write things here. It's actually a lot better for me. So you might be seeing a lot more of me in the future.

Anyways! I kind of want to bitch about drawing for a bit.

I am once again having trouble finding time to draw. Well, also finding motivation. All the things I want to draw are waaaaay too complicated. We're talking several-year stories, here. Plus, most of the things I want to draw are far too complicated for my skills. Seriously, I tried. It it extremely frustrating, to want to express something, but not have the skills to do so. It ends up looking really really bad. I know I shouldn't care, but I do. It's painful to look at.

What I thought of doing instead is doing autobio comics, stuff that has really happened, but real life is so BORING compared to the stories in my head! My heart just isn't in it.

What would be ideal would be taking an art class, but I just don't have the time. I'm going to be not only going to class next quarter, but also going to clinical sites as well. And I've never actually worked before, so it's probably going to kick my ass.

I guess the best thng would be to sort of draw something every day, but when I try to just sit down and draw something, it doesn't turn out well.

What might not be a bad idea is to work on drawing anatomy-- find pictures of different poses, and draw them. And also scenery... I'm really, really bad at scenery. I hate it. Of course, I could always take real backgrounds from stock photos, but that just feels like cheating.

But I've tried doing the "draw one thing a day" program, and it never works.

My problem is mainly that I don't know how to be moderate about these things. I'm either 100% into it, or 0%. 100% isn't an option, since I have school, and let's face it, I get bored. But I don't WANT to be 0% into it. My creativity needs somewhere to GO, after all, and I don't want writing to be my outlet. I want it to be drawing.

Meh, well, I'm too tired to think about it anymore. Maybe sleeping on it will help...

Weirdos and Geniuses

I just watched A Beautiful Mind for the first time. John Nash sounds like the sort of person I would like to have a discussion with. I notice patterns too, just not the same kind-- not the mathematical kind. There is a theory of mine I wish I could run by him, and it occurred to me I could just post it here.

My theory is, you can't be a genius, or even particularly smart, without being deficient in something else.

We all probably know about savants, like Rain Man, or Kim Peek, or other such folks. But what I have noticed is that the degree of genius in a specialized area seems to be proportional to the amount of defect.

The defect can be anything-- psychological issues, physical disabilities, chemical problems, neurological problems, or just being bat-shit crazy in some other way.

The reasoning for why this is depends on the type of problem, but most can be put down to simply putting more effort into the special interest area. Though in the case of autism, savantism can be put down to the way the brain is wired; one savant who does number calculations uses the exact same brain pathway for number calculations as he does to construct a simple sentence. Not really surprising that pathway becomes super-efficient, is it?

But when it comes to everything else, I think it's simply that the defect makes it difficult for the affected person to live "normally". And the time that person would have spent doing "normal" things is instead invested in the special interest.

For example, I am a self-declared weirdo (damn proud of it, too!) so when I was a kid, not many people wanted to hang out with me. So I spent a lot of time reading books, playing with the cat, watching movies... You know, the misfit thing. So I ended up with a good vocabulary, knowing how to approach the kitty for playtime (and when kitty was DONE being played with), and being able to quote movies at will. Simple, right?

Well, my theory is that's exactly what happens with most smart people, only on a bigger scale. A person in a wheelchair probably can't play sports, so they might spend more time with computers, and thus gets good at working with them. A person with serious psychological issues doesn't trust people, and thus doesn't spend much time with them, and therefore maybe spend more time drawing or painting (which also might help work through some of those issues).

So, it's not really a complicated concept-- I just have no proof to back it up. ^^'

Now if you'll excuse me, my kitty wants to be petted.

--Ilsa

Just finished watching The King's Speech, it was excellent! I should have watched it years ago, I love it.

I'm so glad this movie came out, because it really highlights that disabilities aren't something you can just "get over." and with so many people having seen it... It's really good that it's out in the mainstream.

Such a great story, too...

An Open Letter To All Webcomic Artists Who Had Their Comics On Webcomic du Jour,

To Whom It May Concern,

Okay, this is starting to bother me, so I'm going to put thisnup for all to see.

Let me just state this for the record: I know Adam Kaump, and he is not a bad guy. He didn't mean to piss anyone off or commit copyright infringement. He's just a guy trying to make webcomics easier to read.

I know this because I have sort of helped him with the app from the beginning. I read a lot of webcomics, and when I found one not on the list, I would suggest it.

I happen to know the exact reasoning behind the app being paid, because I Adam and I have been in contact pretty much since it started. The reasoning is because he was putting a bunch of work into making the app work correctly, so he might as well kinda get paid for it. Because seriously, the app required a lot of work. It was pretty buggy in the beginning. The payment wasn't for the webcomics, it was for the work put in to display them. You guys might think that's dumb, but I KNOW it's an honest mistake.

Adam didn't ask me to write this. In fact, he doesn't even know I am and probably would tell me not to bother. But he's a good guy, and he had good intentions. Google Reader basically does the same thing, only it's not paid. Here's the thing: Google probably pays someone to keep Google Reader running. But Google is a GIGANTIC COMPANY with ridiculously large amounts of money. Adam is just one guy. He did this in his free time, just because he wanted to do something nice.

I know, I know, good intentions pave the path to hell. But in a moral context, they need to be taken into account. He's not a gigantic douche, and now that he knows it bothers people this much, he's shutting down the app. So put a leash on the name-calling, please.

I know I'm going to get a lot of backlash for defending Adam, but he's a good guy who made a mistake and doesn't deserve all the hate being thrown his way.

As it happens, I draw as well, and I'm starting to draw comics, and I hope to eventually draw webcomics. However, my art isn't good enough to be ripped off, so I guess it's harder for me understand. Maybe I'll understand better in a few years when my art doesn't completely suck, and someone decides to rip it off.

But for now, could we please just calm the hell down?

--Ilsa

P.S. If you have no idea what this is about, feel free to ignore it.

Brain dump

I'm kind of surprised how many page views I've gotten while I was on a sort of hiatus.

I'm just going to write a quick diary entry, so if you were expecting something insightful, sorry to disappoint.

Yesterday, I couldn't take it anymore, so I broke down and wrote something. I didn't realize it before, but I've been having a buildup of creative energy. It's like some strange force I can't control. Which is why I've been essentially trying to shove it in a box. Plus, the outlet I like the most is drawing, but I just can't stop seeing how much it sucks. The only thing I'm good at drawing is anime eyes, and that's only because I've drawn them over and over.

I think the very nature of drawing is what makes this hard. You have to balance form and creativity. You can't just GO-- you want it to look good, after all. So you draw, then you tweak it. And tweak it. And tweak it. And in doing so, you have to realize how much better it could be. And it never feels done.

So I always feel like I suck. Part of that is that I don't have enough practice. But part of that is the nature of the beast.

This constant tweaking is why drawing comics are hard for me. I get the basic idea down, and then I have to choose whether I stop and tweak it, or whether I move on to the next page. And when you're just starting something, you want to get a big chunk of it done so you don't feel like you've just started. Plus, I have a tendency to abandon my projects pretty quickly. For a lot of reasons. Too busy, got bored with it, depressed at my own skill level, too much work, etc...

A lot of it is BECAUSE it's so hard to control. When I'm in school, I'm pretty much always supposed to be doing SOMEthing. And sometimes, when I should be doing something important, an idea grabs me and won't let go. And if I ignore it, I lose interest in it. (Story of my life.) And then I slip out of my creative cycle, as that stuff keeps happening.

Once I'm out of school and working full-time, because of the nature of the job that I'm doing, I can't take my work home with me. So when I'm not working, I'm free to do what I please. So it'll be easier to be artistic.

I guess I could do it now, but it would be a lot harder. I would have to actually schedule things, and I know I don't do well with that. I'm pretty sure it's part of Asperger's. I could always give it a try again, but I think my problem is that I get way, way too obsessive about it.

I think I'll work with my life skills coach. She might be able to help a lot, since she has experience with other people on the Spectrum. Maybe there's a way to do this that will work for my brain.

I'm glad I wrote a journal entry. Now I actually might have a solution, instead of just being frustrated.

--Me

Why is drawing so damn hard?!

Started drawing again, and I'm having some trouble. Mainly, I think, because I'm fighting my natural style.

Most artists who have an anime-esque style draw clean and/or thick lines. I, on the other hand, cannot draw a straight line longer than an inch. Or a circle, for that matter. (Seriously, I tried. It had bumps in it.) I've always had thin, wispy strokes that give a sense of a sketch.

But I don't want my drawings to look like a sketch; I want them to look polished. But, apparently, I just can't force myself to draw a different way.

Also, I kind of suck at coloring. And backgrounds. And perspective. And drawing in Photoshop.

...I guess I have my work cut out for me.

Who Am I Now?

Who Am I Now?

My life has changed so much. I know I used to be "the girl who fell for guys who didn't want her." I used to feel bad for myself because I could never find someone who wanted me. Because I would fall for the wrong guy.

I also used to think of myself as "shy".

But... Who am I now? I said I didn't want a relationship because I didn't want to deal with other people's crap. And that's sort of half-true.

Mostly I don't want a relationship because it doesn't seem like I'm going to get what I wanted out of it. I guess what I wanted was love, safety.

Whenever I think of a relationship, I think of someone to hold me, the person you come home to at the end of a long day and  cuddle up to.I still want that, I think.

I don't know. Am I really lonely? Most of the time, no. I have enough people in my life. Most of the time I'm not lonely. But there is a kind of comfort that I miss.

I think a romantic partner is a friend you are on the same wavelength of, and are also romantically interested in. (Which is of course requited.)  I think that person feels like home to you. Someone you can tell everything to, and you are interested in the things they want to tell you.

And I still want that.

But what is the difference between a friend and a romantic partner? The fact that you sleep together?

There are some things I feel like I can't tell my friends. I'm afraid to show weakness to people. I feel embarrassed at having them see the vulnerable, sniveling wimp that I am sometimes. But I feel like I could show that to a romantic partner. I'm not sure why.

I guess it's unsurprising I still have trust issues. But I wish I didn't have them. It probably makes my life harder than it needs to be.

I'm not a broken person anymore. I'm not completely screwed up. But I have some... I guess, glitches, that need fixing.

I'm honestly not sure whether I've suppressed most of my negative emotions or whether I just don't have them as much anymore...

Seriously, don't argue with me on this.

Yesterday, I was speaking with my chiropractor, and said that I was hypersensitive to pain. It's one of the things that might come with an Autism Spectrum condition, and I know others on the Spectrum who identify as such. Hypersensitivity to a stimulus (noise, light, pain, smell, etc.) is fairly common on the Spectrum, in fact.

So, needless to say, it came as kind of a shock when she actually disagreed with me.

I didn't think I'd have to point this out, but when you're talking to someone Autistic, DON'T DISAGREE WITH THEM ABOUT WHAT IT'S LIKE TO HAVE AUTISM.

It's like a white person arguing with a black person about what it's like to be black. It's insulting and it makes you sound like a complete idiot.

I would think this is just common sense, but apparently not. The simple fact is, if you have Autism, you are automatically an expert on it. Even someone with a Ph. D. in Autism doesn't have the right to tell an Autistic person they are wrong about what it's like to have Autism.

To be fair, I kind of understand where they're coming from. For example, as a white person, when I talk to people of color, they sometimes describe specific incidents where someone was racist towards them. And it's sometimes so subtle that it makes me think "well, maybe it wasn't that they weren't being racist, maybe it was something else..."

And I don't think those things because I necessarily believe they don't know what they're talking about. I think it because I want to cling to the hope that my own people aren't the bad guys. Because realizing you're part of a group that oppresses another group of people is pretty depressing. They may not realize they're doing it, but they are still doing it all the same. And that's a very sad thought.

But let's face it, it's true. 

And it's also true that Neurotypicals can make life pretty goddamn difficult for those on the Spectrum. They generally aren't aware of it, and it might not even be something they can do anything about, but it still happens.

I know I'm not actually supposed to say that. I'm not supposed to point out the situation, because it might piss off some Neurotypicals who could make our lives a whole lot worse.

But if I don't, who will?

If we don't point out what's wrong, no one will fix it. And that goes for all minorities or disenfranchised people.

So, for all Neurotypicals out there: do us a favor, and listen to us when we talk about what it's like to have Autism.

How exactly do you start a revolution, anyways?

One of the things that seems to confuse NeuroTypicals the most when I ask for accommodations and for things to change is that it seems like I'm expecting the world to change just because I don't like it.

Actually, I'm asking for things to change because considering how much I have to change myself and adapt to the rest of the world, I'm not actually asking for that much.

I have to work two or three times as hard as everyone else because I'm not wired the right way for doing the things society thinks I should be able to do.

I am constantly fighting against my own brain and trying to change it to try and make it work the way I need it to in order to get stuff done that's easy for NeuroTypicals.

And then people tell me I'm not being flexible.

Actually, I AM being flexible. I am bending over backwards to adapt to YOUR rules, while you're just standing there, pissed at me because I'm not bending far enough, or I'm unhappy that I'm forced to do it in the first place.

So when I ask for stuff to change, the least you could do is meet me halfway.

*sigh* The most frustrating part is, I know that's probably not going to happen. No one seems to realize I'm busting my ass trying to fit into the world. All they see is that I'm not doing "normal" things in a "normal" way, and then complaining about it. So they assume I'm lazy.

I keep trying to figure out how to change the system, but I haven't come up with anything. I don't know how to reach people. (Aside from somehow getting ridiculously famous and going on talk shows and shit.)

When I think back on the civil rights movement, things only started to change when people of color and the LGBT community started banding together as a group and calling for change. And, of course, you need champions, people with power who are in that group.

We might be able to have a champion, but I doubt that people with Autism are ever going to band together as a group. We disagree a lot and some of us have a hard enough time just figuring out how to tie their shoes to start a movement. And some of us just don't know what to do to make things better.

So, I figure, the best way to do this is to have a very high-profile champion. Someone on the A-list who also has autism. Bill Gates sort of counts, but he doesn't admit to having autism.

If only he would! If only he would admit it, and make a statement about it, change would come about so much quicker!

We have Temple Grandin, but she isn't that famous yet. We need someone who is so famous that everyone has heard their name at least once.

I would like to be a champion for Autism. I would like to be someone that has high enough social status that people will listen to what I say.
 
Only one problem: it's hard to become a champion on purpose...

My daily sulk

I am between worlds.

I draw well enough that those who don't say "wow, you're really good,"
But poorly enough that artists say I am not one of them.

I am right-handed,
But I can use my left hand almost as well.

I am smarter than the majority,
But not smart enough to be a genius.

I am a Geek because I watch Anime and enjoy learning,
But I don't play video/computer games, play D&D, or watch Firefly.

I knit,
But I don't go to knitting groups anymore. 
(Because I am sick to death of hearing about your children and/or husband. And I will NOT make baby clothes. I hate children.)

I am female and I am comfortable with being female,
But I am not feminine. (Pink and ruffles make me want to vomit.)

I am 21,
But I hate parties (noise and crowds), dislike most alcohol, and dislike many people my own age. (The normal ones.)

I am an Aspie,
But I can see the Neurotypical point of view.

I'm straddling both sides of the same coin. I have one foot in one world, and one foot in the opposite. 

I float between the opposites, frequently running messages and translating for each other. I can never close my mind, because I don't have the luxury of being firmly on one side or the other. I pretend sometimes I can't see the other side, but I can.

It gets lonely, being neither one or the other. So I try to find other floaters for company. 

When I do, we have spirited debates, matching wits.



And now that I'm done pitying myself, I'll go do the studying I was avoiding.

Different, not less.

I'm Autistic.

I don't need to be cured, or treated, or changed.

I'm perfect just the way I am.

On memorization

Anatomy & Physiology II is the hardest class I have ever taken, except for A&P I. And, unless I later go back to school for a PhD, it's the hardest class I ever will take.

The thing is that there's a lot of memorization. It took about 16 hours or so of studying to get an A on the last test.

Memorization is my kryptonite. I never learned to retain facts just long enough to pass the test, and then forget them. In order to do well, I have to actually learn the material. Which is incredibly difficult in this class, because there's just so much.

Thankfully, because of this, when we get to the Physiology parts of the class, I do better than most. I actually learn the rules, and remember them-- they get saved in long-term memory.

I think this is why, whenever the professor asks a question from previously covered material, I am the only one who knows the answer. Or at least one of the only ones. Booyah!

I kind of wish school was set up so that the people who actually store material in their long-term memory were the ones who got good grades. I would have graduated years ago...

The school system sucks. Everyone who actually looks at the facts knows that people who succeed are the ones who can store the information just long enough to pass the test, and then dump it out. Pretty much everyone agrees that it's backasswards.

So, why has no one done anything about it?

Selina

While reading “Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched The World,” I started to remember my cat: the dear, departed Selina. And I thought it was time I wrote about her.

I begged for cats, when I was little. I love them now, and I did then. I was fairly young, so I don’t remember much about them coming into our house. But I do remember how her name came to be.

“Selina” was a name I’d chosen for myself, when I pretended to be a superhero. I would swish around in a cape and pretend to save the world from evildoers. So when I decided to name the tiny, black, scaredy-kitten “Selina,” I was giving her something very precious to me. I was showing her I loved her.

I didn’t expect her to be a superhero, and she wasn’t. She would bolt from the room if she was startled, either by an unexpected sound, or by someone walking toward her too fast. Her eyes were almost open as wide as they would go, and she almost always looked like she was getting ready to run if need be.

And I loved her for it.

My favorite thing to do with her was put her in my lap and rub her stomach. This was because, when I did that, she
would start licking the hand that petted her. Like all cats, she had a rough, sandpaper tongue. If I petted her for too long, she would lick my arm until it was almost raw.

With Selina, I learned caution, how to approach without spooking someone. How to show I have peaceful intentions.
This skill, when I remember to apply it, serves me extremely well. Some humans are just as afraid as she was, and I treat them with the same respect and care my cat taught me.

You’re probably not supposed to pick favorites among your cats, but I think she was always my favorite. The entire family loved her. She was sweet, she rarely fought, and she never caused us any real problems, unlike the other cat we adopted along with her, Kathleen. (I still love her, but man, she can be a pain in the butt sometimes.) I think I only heard Selina hiss once.

But a few years ago, something went wrong. There was blood on some papers, and we figured out it was coming from her. At first, we thought the blood was coming from her rear end.

But when we got to the vet, it turned out it was just her paw. We all breathed a sigh of relief, because there turned out to be nothing wrong.

Yet.

The wound on her paw never healed. Most of the things the vet told us were kind of a blur, but I remember it having something to do with her kidneys not working right. All I knew was that my baby, my Selina, was sick and I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid for her. I didn’t want her to die.

And she didn’t. She ended up getting better. She came home with us, and I was so grateful she was okay. Things calmed down for little while.

Then one day, she shot out of the litterbox screaming and yowling. That wasn’t like Selina. She didn’t sound like that. It was clear she was in a lot of pain.

It turns out, her kidneys had shut down completely. She wouldn’t be able to heal anything anymore. But she was hurting. Hurting so badly. And she wasn’t going to get better.

So we decided it would be kinder to put her down, so she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

I remember the drive to the vet’s, somber and sad. I remember them giving her two shots. I think the first was to sedate her, and the second was the euthanasia.

I knew she was gone long before the vet told us she was. There’s a stillness that only the dead have. I knew my Selina, and she wasn’t there anymore.

The vet left us to mourn. We all cried, and hugged each other, and I petted her for the last time. Strangely, she still felt warm. But she was still gone.

I cried, and I felt my heart breaking. My baby, my Selina, my favorite, my kitty, was gone.

She was cremated, and we keep her ashes on a shelf. The veterinarian gave us a picture to keep. We mourned.

I still miss her. I think I always will. In fact, even as I type, I am crying.

I don’t know what grief is like for other people, but mine never goes away. I can go without thinking about for awhile, but when I do remember, it always hurts. I was hoping that maybe writing this would ease the pain a little. I don’t know if it will or not, but it’s worth a try.

Some people don’t seem to understand that Selina wasn’t just a cat to me. I bonded with her more strongly than I have with a human. Maybe it’s because I understood her, maybe it’s because I didn’t hold back any love since I knew she’d never hurt me, maybe that’s just how I am with animals.

But when I think of her, I always call her “my baby”. I’m not a mother, and I don’t ever intend to be. So I don’t know what a bond is like with a mother and her child, and I probably never will. It’s probably not comparable.

But I loved her. And I think she loved me too. And I miss her so badly, that when I remember it, I don’t just cry. I wail, and sob, and wonder if I’ll ever be free of this awful pain.

But even if I’m not, I would still do it all over again. I have so many happy memories of her that I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

I just wished she could have stayed with us a little longer. She was only nine when she died.

The best I can do is hope that if there is an afterlife, she’s happy there.

Rest in peace, Selina.

I'll always remember you, baby.

Stop asking already

Sometimes, when people see me knitting, they say: "Wow, that's really cool! Can you make me one? I can pay you for it!"

No, actually, you can't, unless you're rich or willing to save up a lot.

Take the sweater I'm currently making for instance. Now, I'm just going to say it will probably take me a month (which is actually pretty fast) or about 30 days to finish, working 4 hours a day on it. That's 120 hours.

Now lets say I got paid $10/hour. That's $1,200.

Then add the cost of the yarn. Each ball was about $8. (And that's pretty cheap for yarn.) I'm probably going to end up using about 6 balls. That's $48 dollars.

So, at a bare minimum, this would cost about $1,248.

So even paying me $600 for a sweater would be completely ripping me off. That's about half of what it's worth.

Very few people are willing to pay that much for clothes.

And then there's the fact that even making 10 sweaters a year (which is probably not possible) would only give me about 12,480. That's not even close to enough to live off of.

So, yeah. There's a reason I don't have a business around it. Few people could afford it, and all I'd get would be pocket change. After hours and hours of hard work.

As much as I love to knit, it's not worth it.

This is also why I don't usually knit gifts for people. Few people appreciate that what I've given them is probably worth far more than anything I could buy.

So, kids, the moral of this story is: do the freaking math.

Yes, this is what my brain is like.

Weird thoughts I've had lately:

-Could diet and exercise end the recession?

My teacher posited: Heart disease can usually be treated efficiently by diet and exercise. Heart disease is really expensive, so stopping it would dramatically lower the cost of healthcare.

Reasoning: Heart disease is the number one killer in the U.S. Heart disease is usually caused by atherosclerosis. The risk of atherosclerosis can be reduced by about 50% by eating cold water fish. Exercise can help reduce the plaque already there

My leap of logic: would lowering the cost of healthcare be enough to end the recession in some way?

If anyone finds out it could and writes a best-seller about it, you owe me a percentage!


-Good idea for a store: custom-made shoes; or having shoes not sold in pairs.

Reasoning: my feet don't match. I think my right is about a half-size bigger than my left. I can usually have my feet fit in a same-size pair, but it's annoying. And buying two pairs of shoes, a half-side apart, seems rather silly. As does wearing different socks. So, shoes that are custom-made; or that I can buy one in one size and one in the other, would be really nice.

If anyone knows of a store like this, give me their website. If there isn't one, and someone uses this idea, you owe me a percentage, dammit!

For now, I guess I'll just go with different thickness of socks. *shrug*

It was that kind of day.

Yesterday, I was talking to a cashier about how I'm allergic to everything except surgical steel (because when I'm nervous, I have no control over my mouth). He pointed to something near my face and asked "and those are...?"

I assumed he was talking about my earrings, so I swept my hair back from in front of my ears and said "surgical steel."

Later, on the bus home, I realized I wasn't wearing earrings. I guess he had been talking about my glasses. I thought I had out them on, and I didn't realize I wasn't wearing them.

I am now grateful that the same scenario didn't happen with my pants instead of my earrings.

This started as a journal entry

Journal 4-17-12

Typing the way I’m supposed to is a pain. But I think it’ll pay off later. I hope it will.

Seriously considering writing a book. Now isn’t really the time for it though.

Sigh. I can’t do shit while I’m in A&P II. It’s too intense of a class.

I think I should keep writing a journal, though. It’s good for me.

Surprisingly, my fingers seem to know how to type already. It’s like I memorized the keyboard after all. I’m not sure when. But trusting my muscle memory is getting me farther than I thought it would.

Maybe that’s my real problem. I have no trust. Well, that’s not really a secret or a big epiphany. I worry about everything. Try to have everything under control. But life doesn’t work like that.

I’m just always so damn scared of everything… A lifetime of being an outcast, and being labeled “disabled” kind of shot my confidence. It’s growing back, but it’s slow.

Maybe, once a day, I should try taking a small risk and trusting myself to get it right.

The truth is, not everything is controllable. Or predictable, for that matter. Sometimes, there are too many variables to figure out how they will all interact to form an outcome.

If I really want to know who I am, I have to start trusting myself.

Why did I ever stop writing journals? Why did I ever stop writing, period?

I think because I lost faith. I lost faith in myself and that made me lose faith in my writing.

Maybe it’s not too crazy to think I might change the world someday. Maybe it’s not crazy to think I can do so by writing. Who knows?

I’ve been trying to make myself invulnerable. I thought I could do it through knowledge. Or by being tough. Or threatening. But the truth is, I’m not very intimidating at all.

I’ve been trying to hide how vulnerable I feel from even myself. Or at least, when I know I have to deal with people, I put it on. But I have so little downtime in between interactions, I keep it on.

“You wear a mask for so long, you forget who you were beneath it.” That’s true.

It’s all part of being human. When you choose fight instead of freeze or flight, fear turns to anger. Human beings are hardwired that way. But you’re supposed to be able to admit to yourself that you’re scared. You might not want to admit it to others, since an enemy would view it as a weakness, but you’re supposed to admit it to yourself.

And the truth is, I am scared of people. I’ve had people treat me like dirt before, and it hurts. A lot. Especially when it comes from people who are supposed to be your family.

Thanks a lot, Donna Kisling. And you too, Jon Gribskov. Or should I call you “Dad”? No, you never acted like one, so I won’t call you that. I hope you can hear me from beyond the grave. You were a crappy father, and I meant everything I said to you, when I finally got sick of being treated like a doormat. I’m not letting people like you wipe your shoes on me anymore.

Oh, and let’s not forget all my wonderful classmates from Eastgate Elementary, Tillicum Middle School, and Newport High School. Oh, and the staff at Tillicum Middle School and Newport High School deserve mention too! The administration of both basically sided with my peers in labeling me a freak and proceeding to blame everything you possibly could on me. Fuck you!

Thank God some of the teachers were nice to me. Mr. Stoddard was pretty awesome- he actually seemed to kind of get what I was going through.

But all the rest of them? Shame on you.

What the hell is wrong with you, treating a kid like that? Couldn’t you see I was having problems? And that what you were doing was making it worse?

And it was because of all of you lovely people that I never realized that the rest of the world wasn’t like that. That some people actually have some good in them.

And how would I have known? Everywhere I looked, it seemed, people were treating me like some insect they had to deal with buzzing around their head. And generally just being dipshits.

The only people in my life who have stuck by me, and treated me the way I deserve, are my family. Not the Gribskovs, you guys can kiss my ass. I mean the Kasmars. My mother, Nancy, and my real father, the one who actually acted like one, Ken. And my grandparents, Rosemary, Cliff, and Bob.

And my "chosen family": Leah, Eda, Patricia, Max. My awesome friends.

Anyways, it’s about time I stopped punishing my family, and myself, for the way those people have treated me. I’ve always been afraid to show love to people in case it got thrown back in my face, like it has been before.

But you know what? I’m done. I’m sick of being afraid and hating myself and keeping secrets.

So, there it is. The truth.

Have a nice day.
--Ilsa

...wait, what?

Today, I was told about yet another self-help book with, surprise, a personality test attached. I took the test, looked up what it meant, found something that suited me as best I could figure.

But later, I started to get kind of pissed. Yes, the personality tests can sometimes help. Yes, to some degree people can be categorized effectively. Yes, that sometimes can mean some useful advice.

But I've taken probably dozens of personality tests by now, and I'm getting really sick of being shoved into a category. Being dissected and told "this is what you should do." Sometimes, that advice is useful. But for the most part, free advice seems to be worth the price you pay. 

I saw a cartoon once that said "there are only two kinds of people: those who make gross over-generalizations and those who don't." More and more, I'm starting to agree with it.

And really, I'm getting INCREDIBLY sick of people telling me what to do, especially when I don't ask for it. Everyone seems to have the answer to life. You just have to eat less, buy this book, accept Jesus as your savior, take this pill, etc.

How about you just let me figure it out myself?

My life is not your life. I have a different set of problems than you do. Frequently, you have no idea what my life has actually been like, or currently is like right now.

I hate to break it to you, but you DON'T have all the answers. Nobody does.

What I think, (I assume you want to know, since you're reading this) is that everyone has a little piece of the puzzle, which together connects into this backasswards thing we call life. Sometimes, the piece you have connects to the piece someone else has. And those are the people you can help, maybe. If they want it.

But my puzzle piece is very, very weird and convoluted. I haven't even really figured out what it is yet. But I'd kind of like to figure it out for myself.

Sure, I'm inexperienced. Sure, I make mistakes. Sure, sometimes following your advice would have helped.

But sometimes, I'm right.

So just let me try it myself, okay?

I know I have Asperger's, and because of that, I seem to miss things that seem obvious to you. But you miss things that are obvious to me, as well.

People don't realize it, but the truth is, the minute you say you have Asperger's Syndrome, or are Autistic, they listen to you less. When you're arguing with them, they are thinking "oh, they just don't know because of the Autism." Amd then we end up being right sometimes-- the truth is, we have about the same accuracy rate as Neurotypicals do, it's just not distributed the same way.

This thought process of "well, how would you know? You're autistic!" is EXTREMELY bad. That is NOT the right way to approach us AT ALL.

First of all, it's insulting. Second of all, it's actually discrimination. Yes, it really is. Discounting someone's opinion purely because of a diagnosis IS discrimination.

Here is how to approach this situation: try to have the Autistic person in question explain his or her reasoning. There is a chance there is something you missed. Or, if there is something he or she missed, explain what it is. If they don't believe you, then say "we'll see" and let it go. 

Really. Let it go. Holding a grudge is not going to be good for either of you down the road. Besides, it's not our fault, and you STILL could end up being wrong!

I will be the first to admit this is very, very hard. I am in a group with some other Aspies, some of whom have far less social graces than I do. 

Sometimes, it's all I can do not to leap out of my chair and strangle them to make them shut the hell up because they are being such a pain in the ass.

You know the definition of stress, right? "The overwhelming urge to choke the living shit out of someone who so richly deserves it"? 

Yeah. Join the club.

Instead, I content myself by imagining beating the crap out of them in creative ways. 

Possibly with a Rube Goldberg-type machine. 

Or something along the lines of the "Homer Humiliator" from The Simpsons. 

Or with Matrix-style Kung Fu.

*cough*

Hey, I never said I didn't have issues. 



So, remember kids, keep an open mind.

Not a clue what this is about...

Today, I was thinking about people. Specifically, the jocks and cheerleaders of the world.

You know the ones I mean: the ones who skate by in life due to their looks and/or money. The truth is, I really really hate them. "They never have to work hard in life! It's not fair!" I was thinking. "They know nothing about the way the world really is!"

And then I realized: neither do I.

Sure, I've been through some things. Maybe had to work a little harder than some at times. But what have I really done? Nothing. I go to school and talk to people and then come home and read or play games or watch TV. What the hell do I know about the real world?

I've never worked. The excuse I've always given people (and myself) is that, since I have Asperger's, I would have to work harder than everything else and probably end up working as a cashier or something (if I'm lucky) which would make me absolutely miserable. Both because I'd probably have to deal with really annoying customers, and because I can't do math very quickly, especially not in my head.

But, well, that's kind of a dumb excuse. I mean, all the reasons are true, but when you add it up... That's not a very good reason.

But more than that, I can't really get inside people's heads. I can't really imagine what their everyday life is like, unless I have experienced it myself. I also can't always tell if they are exactly what they appear to be, or that they have some deep, dark secret.

It's like, if someone is late, it ticks me off. But for all I know, one of their friends had a nervous breakdown, and they had to comfort them. (That was the least morbid, but still acceptable, reason I could come up with.) And they might not tell me, since it's not any of my business.

I ride in the car with my Mom a lot, and she always gets annoyed at the person who does something like cut her off or run a red light. I don't drive, but I gather that this is a very common pet peeve. And just about every time, I think "well, maybe they just found out one of their parents had a stroke or was in an accident and is rushing to the hospital."

Chances are, they are just a jerk. But really, you never know.

I often have imaginary conversations with people. (I know that sounds kind of insane, but bear with me.) It's usually because I have some internal conflict, some knot in my mind I'm trying to unravel. Pretty frequently, I end up preaching (to myself- okay yeah I'm a little crazy, I admit it) about how important it is to tolerate people who are different from you, or to walk a mile in their shoes.

But the truth is, I judge people. A lot. I put them into categories in my mind, imagine what their lives have been like. It's how I  decide whether or not, and how far, I should trust them. I end up being right about half the time. Sadly, the other half, it's often because I overestimate them.

But the truth is, you never really know with people. I realize now that I've been judging people before I get to know them.

Which happens to be the very thing I hate to see other people do.

I also hate hypocrites.

... D'oh!

The thing is, it's a lot safer to do that. People can hurt you pretty badly if you let them in. And after awhile, you close yourself off, because you're afraid of being hurt again. Once burned, twice shy. And in my case, it's just freaking exhausting, too.

But, well, once you start doing that... Or at least, when I started doing that... I got judgmental. I started to think I knew everything. And I also got lonely.

I'm just so tired of the drama and noise and SHIT that comes with being around  people, especially in a group of people. And it never ends! It just goes on and on until I can't take it anymore and I have to leave or I'll lose my mind.

...Yeah. I hate people.

I've sort of forgotten my original point, but I don't think people read this because they WANT to be preached at, so who cares?

But I guess I should try to be a little less judgmental. And get out more.

On socializing.

I find it odd that so many Neurotypicals, even those with knowledge of Autism and Asperger's Syndrome, seem to not understand that I hate socializing.

Here's why I hate to socialize: because I always have to be thinking about what I say. I always have to worry that I offended someone, or that they don't actually want to talk to me and are just being polite, or that I missed some nonverbal cue. I always have to stay on my toes, always have to walk on eggshells. 

I get no enjoyment out of it. I never get to relax when people are around. Even if we're not talking, even if we're in different rooms in the same house, I have to be watching them, making sure I don't miss something important. 

The only time I get to relax is when I'm alone, or with someone I trust completely. Other than my parents and my mentor, there are only two people in the world I feel this way about. And that is because, if they have known me for years, and have put up with all of my crap for this long, chances are, there's nothing else I could do to drive them away. And for that, they have my eternal loyalty. I guess that's what a friend is.

It takes years for me to build up that kind of trust with people. I have known both of them so long that I have forgotten exactly how long ago we first met. 

But I do remember the moment when I realized that I trust them completely. In both cases, we had drifted apart. The first was due to busy schedules, the second, geography. But then we started to talk again and I realized "hey, wait, they still want to be friends. Wow." 

I was surprised for different reasons. The first was because, well, we might have known each other for a long time, but we had both changed a lot in that time. And sometimes, people grow apart. I have met a lot of people, but I rarely know which ones are going to stick.

The second was because when I first met him, I was bat-shit crazy. I had clinical depression, low thyroid, ADD/ADHD, and Asperger's Syndrome, not to mention quite a few psychological issues. All this combined to make me a very confused person. I look back on that period of my life with embarrassment. Thankfully, most of it I don't remember, as the depression cast a black cloud over everything back then, making the few things I do remember very hazy. So I mostly expected him to remember me as "that crazy chick he used to know back in America." (He lives on the other side of the world  at the moment.) 

But, as I mentioned, once I started talking to them again, I realized I didn't really need to watch what I say around them. I don't have to worry about offending them. And we could get into weird philosophical conversations, from zombies to love and everything in between. (Try it sometime. It's really fun.)

I consider myself lucky to have friends like that. Because with most people, they don't care what I think, or get offended or unnerved by my personality, or are just idiots. 

(Stupidity is a universal constant, unfortunately. I've mostly gotten used to it, but some people manage to amaze me with whole new levels of stupid that I had previously deemed impossible. I hope they never procreate.)

That is why I don't like to socialize. Aside from the handful of people who I know understand me and that I enjoy conversing with, it's boring and nerve-wracking to talk to people. It can also often be loud and crowded, depending who it is and where we are talking.

There's another important factor: talking to people wears me out. A lot. If I talk to someone for about two hours, even if I like talking to them, I have to go be by myself after that. 

Socializing takes energy. A lot of energy. And if I don't like talking to them and it wears me out, why am I even doing it in the first place?

All of this adds up to one thing: I'd rather be by myself. Seriously, just leave me alone. Please?

Sometimes I do want to talk to people even if I have to watch what I say. Usually it's because we're related and it's rude not to talk to them at least once in awhile, or sometimes it's because they're generally a pleasant person to be around, or it's because they need help with something (whether they know it to not). And, well, sometimes I get lonely. I hate it, but it happens.

But most of the time, I'd prefer to read. Or knit. Or watch TV. Or do schoolwork. Or write. Or play games. Or... 

Yeah, I could go on for a long time like that. I have a lot of hobbies. When you spend lots of time by yourself, you learn to keep yourself busy and have fun doing it.

To sum up: it's nothing personal. I'm just not a people person.

I recently received some very good advice from a friend of mine. He said that people didn't like being lectured at, that they wanted to be able to connect with my struggles. That people really wanted to know how I felt.

I've always had a hard time expressing myself, especially to others, partly because I've had trouble dealing with my own emotions a lot of the time. I've been through a lot of crap in my life - which is something pretty much anyone who's heard my life story can agree on - and eventually, to keep your sanity and to keep yourself moving, you stuff down all your emotions into a box in your mind (labeled "crap") and push it into the corner. I'm still learning how NOT to do that, since I don't have to be in survival mode anymore.

But also, partly because I'm afraid that I'll come off as a whiny little emo kid.

But if people really want to know about how I feel, I guess I can tell you.

Mostly, I feel angry. I mean, I'm not getting a fair deal because of something that's not my fault. It sucks.

I weird people out by being too open, because I have trouble knowing what to say or when to say it. Also because sometimes, it feels like it hurts to hold things in. Sometimes things want come out, and holding them in takes energy, as does waiting my turn. 

Usually, this is because I'm in ADD mode, where I constantly having to be doing SOMEthing. Moving around, drawing, knitting, talking. I can't sit still in those times.

Or I weird people out because they just don't understand that I only have a certain amount of energy I can spare for interacting with people. Any more than that, and I get cranky. Ilsa being cranky is not a fun thing.


But I digress. I thought about writing today because it occurred to me that I will probably always harbor a hatred for "the popular kids". The ones who have fine-tuned social skills.

The reason this occurred to me is that there is someone in my Anatomy & Physiology 1 class who has always seemed like one of the aforementioned "popular kids." And because of that, I hate him. I'm sure that deep down, he's a nice guy, but we've had several classes together and we've barely spoken. I can't help thinking I probably come off as too much of a dork. 

Whether or not this is true, I have no idea. I'm probably just projecting. But there are times, and other geeks might be able to back me up on this, that you get the feeling people look down their noses at you, just because you happen to like Doctor Who or anime or something. (I happen to like both, by the way.)

I had been hoping I was past my dweeby phase. Apparently not. Whenever I go into my A&P classroom, I feel like I'm back in High School for some reason.

High School was literally the worst time of my life. You couldn't pay me to go back to that hell. 

If the Zombie Apocalypse DOES happen in December, I hope I get a chance to snipe some of my reanimated classmates and the some of the faculty before I get bitten. Yes, even the administration at the time treated me like dirt. Fuck you, Newport High School.

It's lucky for them The Force isn't real, otherwise I might have turned into freaking Darth Vader.


In case anyone is worried, no, I'm not going to go shoot up a school. I do have a pretty strong conscience, and I also know that most of the people there didn't realize the effect they had on me, otherwise they might have been nicer. Besides, I have heard that non-assholes might be running the school soon.

Take Note

Take Note, by Ilsa Kasmar


If you think
I am only a word,
Or a collection of labels,
You're wrong.

If you think
I am only a number,
Or a blip on the radar,
You're wrong

They call it Asperger's Syndrome
But the truth is,
You don't know how to deal with me,
Do you?

I refuse to blend in with the crowd.

One day,
I'll burst from my chrysalis
With wings more colorful,
More beautiful,
Than the world has ever seen before.

So take note.
I am more than you think I am.