EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Okay, now I feel better. I needed to get that out of my system.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
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!
Friday, November 2, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, October 29, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, October 8, 2012
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.
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.
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