Surviving the Apocalypse

A tumble weed drifts past. I'm chasing motes of dust that dance in the light.

I'm waiting for you.

All of you.

I'm watching you say you're busy. I hope it's true.

I do believe you.

Although, sometimes I don't.

I just can't fathom such a life.

I'm sitting in an empty living room.

I'm watching the clock tick. Trying to stay busy. Trying not to go mad.

I'm drifting in this apocalyptic dream in a bed of holly.

And I'm waiting for you.

There's some secret world out there I'm not apart of.

I suspect it can only be true. Christmas, New Years, Thanksgiving.

It's out there waiting for you.

But, not for me. I just can't make it happen. Even though I try.

All I have is time. It does not pass quickly.

I can only wait.

And I'm waiting for you.

My email box becomes mostly empty. An occasional short note flows in.

Other forms of contact dwindle.

I try to tell myself I haven't lost what little I had.

I try not to run. Fuck, I want to run. I want to run from the waiting, the wondering and fear.

I want my thoughts to shut off. Let silent music flow in.

Then you all come back and I forget why I ever thought running was a good idea.

I wait with a painted smile.

Sometimes, I believe it, even feel it.

I'm even happy sometimes.

Then, I want to go to sleep. Shut my eyes on this empty life.

Simply not wake up.

I ache for nonexistence.

But, I'd never do anything.

I'm a coward.

I'm trying to find my way out. Trying to find what ever it is you have.

It drains me. I almost can't take it.

What comes so easily to you. Makes me so tired.

I hurt inside trying, but I am trying.

And I know it's almost over. One more holiday to go.

Then the still life painting will shift and glitter again.

Until then I'm wrecked upon the shore.

And with a smile. I make the best of it.

And I wait for you.

50 Things That Would Look Interesting Flying Through The Air

1) The Borg Queen

2) Various Borgs (Makes perfect sense after number 1)

3) Basket full of assorted lotions

4) A Bus, with passengers

5) A tank

6) Donkeys

7) Show Cat Breeders

8) 1 million unused silicone breast implants

9) Naked men with backs turned so you just see them from behind

10) 43 Yoplait Yogurts, full with lids open

11) Wilford Brimley and Jamie Lee Curtis having a deep conversation about Nerf products

12) Bean bag chairs of assorted colors

13) Scissors, lots and lots of sharp, pointy, dangerous scissors

14) A burning tire yard

15) Fiberglass insulation cut into Lucky Charms Marshmallow Shapes

16) A solitary jalapeño pepper topped with melted cheddar cheese.

17) Lit scented candles

18) Rush Limbaugh fans riding Dolphins

19) Feathered masks

20) Locusts wearing tiny hats

21) Al Gore meditating on top of a spinning globe

22) Sandcastles in a perfect V formation

23) Darth Vader in a Tutu

24) 14 Tiny ponies with waffles on their heads

25) Lions feverishly using their claws to make lemon zest (it's raining lemon zest bitches!)

26) Riding lawnmower

27) Prince, shakin it with bags of cheetos in both hands

28) Assorted terriers and a man who is enjoying their company far too much

29) Clear heels!

30) Potpourri sachets

31) Toast

32) A woman covered in buttered toast (like the borg a natural conclusion after the last)

33) A carved pumpkin filled with white ferrets

34) Chainsaws and linoleum floor squares

35) Pumice stones with signs of the zodiac printed on their surface

36) Wolverines and they are pissed!

37) Leather work gloves

38) A unicorn that poops ice cream and also eats nothing but ice cream, but hopefully not the ice cream it poops out. That would be mercilessly redundant

39) Satanists that only listen to the music of Morrisey.

40) Corn in all it's many forms

41) Dollops of crème fraiche adorning the works of Leo Tolstoy

42) Scaffolding

43) Minivans recklessly driven by border collies

45) Lilac washcloths folded neatly with little mints on top

46) AT-AT walkers

47) A clothes line with clothes and undergarments pinned on

48) A bathtub full of vegeteble soup (Sade music plays)

49) Infinite tubes of lube and 1 pizza

50) Alex Trebec cooking bacon in heart bedecked underwear while Klingons watch hungrily

Offensive Christmas Crap- 100 word flash

I just wasn't feeling the Christmas spirit, so I tried to amend that. Watching you turn blue, choking on your own severed cock, I can't help but feel I went wrong somewhere. Your struggles, the changing hue of your face, all very festive. Merry even. I know your eventual pallor will remind me of fallen snow. I drink the smoothie I made from our unborn child. The tender hollow that is my stomach helps me think. Bored of your thrashing my eyes shift to our tree. Then, it hits me. I put way too much tinsel on.

Scared Shitless, Will Travel.

At work, I lock myself in the bathroom. Again. My chest is tight as a vice as I struggle to breathe. It's only a panic attack but it feels like I'm dying, like my heart will stop. In that moment, part of me wants it to. Just so the fear will end. I slump to the floor and feel it all let go. I begin to shake and sob. Tears stream down my face. I fight the feeling of sick self loathing as the fear wells up to the forefront inside me. One question echos in my mind. Why aren't I excited? This, my reaction to being asked if "I'm counting down the days." until my vacation. Why am I so scared? I've saved and sacrificed over a year for this trip. I always thought I'd be over the moon with happiness. Now that it's near, I'm terrified and afraid I will fail. What's wrong with me?

My mind is like a hurricane right now, all chaos and blowing. I sit helpless watching Jim's trailer tumble end over end down the war torn streets of my mind. I have reasons to be afraid. I am doing a lot of very new things all at once. I am traveling alone with no idea how that works. I keep wishing some sort of step by step travel agenda will simply fall in my lap. All the steps mapped out from printing out forms, to bring this, stand here etc neatly listed for me. I like to know what to expect and what is expected of me. Instead, I only have a vague idea that I go to the airport with my confirmation code and somehow travel happens. I worry about what can I bring? How it all works. I wish it were all clear. The unknown frightens me deeply. I'm going to a big city with all the noise, buildings and things that make my heart race just thinking of it. It's possible after 10-11 years of no intimate touch that's going to change very quickly and I'm very confused as to how I feel about that, or if I even want that to happen. I will be separated from my routine and my dog. Two very difficult things to separate an Aspie from. I think about sitting in my hotel room and I wonder what will I do? Will I be brave enough to step outside? Or will I sit inside and be afraid? I think about this and my chest gets tight. I ask myself why am I doing this? Sometimes, I find the answer and the winds settle for a moment. My inner world is peaceful as I think back to when I was a little girl.

I can remember the feeling of the sun coming through the glass even still. It was one of my favorite feelings, like a warm puppy hug. The home I grew up in had a very large window that spanned the front of the house. I would sneak under the heavy drapes and watch the world that lay beyond. It was filled with life. Children played, cars passed, and adults tended their lawns. This was my dreaming spot as a child. The thin pane of glass seemed so much thicker trapped in my families fortress. I wasn't allowed to be in that world. I wasn't even supposed to be seen. I was taught what lay beyond that pane was all the devils making, that the people out there would hurt me in ways my grandmother seemed to relish describing to me. It all seemed so harmless sitting there. I couldn't believe it. I wanted to know what was out there. I would dream of traveling and of having a friend. I wanted that most of all. I had such a clear picture of that in my mind of someone running up to me, locking their arms around me, lifting me and giving me the biggest of bear hugs. They would sit me down, kiss me on top of my head and tell me they were so happy to see me. I would see it in their eyes, the joy, how they cared for me, that they meant the wonderful things they said to me in my daydream. It was a look I had never seen in my families eyes, but I could see it so vividly in my mind. It made me happy to think of it. I decided that was what having a friend would look like. I dreamed in the warm sunlight until my grandmother would catch me, and drag me out by my hair crying.

I never imagined I could actually have this dream. I've always held it gently, hoping but never thinking it could happen. Not to me, anyways. Somewhere in the midst of chasing another dream I found it. I have a person in my life that is my greatest champion, that never judges me, and that only builds me up. He is my family, my rock, a gift from the universe to make up for all the shit I had to put up with before finding him. I hand him the jumbled pieces of a world that makes no sense and he locks the pieces together and explains how it all works. He is the reason I don't run. Yes, I'm fucking terrified but I'm doing this anyways. Oh god, I want to run.

My mind urges me to quit. It whispers every mean thing it can think of. Brings up every bad experience and reminds me of times I've met online friends only to have them fall out of my life immediately after. My heart falls at these memories. The awkwardness and the stark disappointment written across their features as they met the pale shadow of who I was online. I think about how my clothes don't fit, my shoes are held together by glue, how my hair is a little uneven because I cut it myself and the gap between my front teeth. I wonder if he'll still like me? Will he even show up or will I be waiting in my hotel room for 3 days hoping? He's very busy. I could see it happening. Not out of meanness, but only because he has so much on his plate. I've barely heard much from him in the last month and I miss him. At the same time I'm happy for him because he is off doing things I can only imagine. It's a very weird feeling to be going so far and through so much and missing the person you are going to see. Even though I understand why he's not here and know I still have a friend, that he hasn't disappeared.... Part of me whispers that I've lost my friend because he's not here to hold my hand through this, like I want him to. It's what fear wants me to think, it's selfish and I know it's only because I am so afraid. I'm scared I might lose the closest thing to family I have. I would lose my person to lean on and to squeee to when things are good. I'd have to go back to holding everything inside with no one to talk to. I'd almost rather not take the gamble. I almost would rather continue to dream of that bear hug. To dream of having someone to do things with, rather than have my day in the sun. The dream gives me something to look forward to. I don't want things to change. I like having a friend. Finally, having a friend! I'm afraid I'll disappoint him. I'm afraid I'll fail. My fear tells me I'm failing already.

But, I know if I don't try then I never will. If I let my every neurosis hold me back then I'll never achieve anything. I would continue to only dream of travel, letting the fear of the unknown keep me at home. I'll never know what that hug feels like. I'd never know so many things. What is the point of such a life? To let fear hold me back is allowing a possibly fun, wonderful experience to slip through my fingers. My worries are not real. They are only what could be and what will be if I don't try. So, yes, I'm scared shitless. My chest hurts. My hands are shaking already. I'm losing sleep and often bursting into tears. I feel lost, alone and terrified. But, I'm going. Try to stop me.

Wyvern

"Most men would be happy. Why must you ruin perfectly good sex with this need for love?"

"I'm sorry. I want more." His voice cracked as he paused. Dejected, in a quiet voice he pleaded. "Is there anyway I can ever have that with you? I'll do anything."

Lydia's ice blue eyes regarded Nathaniel with calm reserve from her place in the window seat. She pulled his grandmothers quilt tighter around her naked body. Etched in sunlight, his heart longed for the angelic vision before him. Naked and vulnerable, Lydia could only think of him as "Tasty". He wasn't what she desired. At least, not yet.

She returned her gaze to the window. Thoughtful, she pushed a tendril of long white hair away from her youthful features. "Perhaps there is a way." A slim finger traced a line down the sun warmed glass. "Look to the fields, Nathaniel. The sun lights a path for you. Do you see it?"

Nathaniel practically lept to her side, mindless of the naked display he was giving his neighbors. His eyes narrowed as minutes ticked by. Lydia sat in patient silence watching him struggle. His heart sank as he sought to see what she described. Inklings of tears welled in his eyes. He knew his fate hung on something seemingly imperceptible. The world blurred and sharpened to a fine edge. He sucked in a breath wiping away despair. "I see it, Lydia. Oh my! It's really there!"

Lydia's mouth twitched in a faint smirk, briefly amused by his awe. "To have what you seek you must follow the path. Everything you need shall be provided as long as you remain true to it's course. If you stray I shall take it as a sign you have moved on. My life, in turn, will take a different path. Travel from morning light, until dusk. Stop only for what is absolutely necessary. Never lose the light. Accept no help. Travel on foot, until you reach the shadow of a mountain. I'll meet you there."

Nathaniel reached out to Lydia. Gratitude and longing shone in his eyes. He needed to touch her, to say goodbye, to thank her. Complacent, Lydia met his hazel eyes and shook her head. "The light is fading."

It was all she needed to say. Scrambling, Nathaniel dressed and quickly finger combed his hair. He paused in the doorway, taking her in one last time. He raced out the door smiling. His heart flooded with hope. Hope for the love of a beautiful woman, with hair, he thought of as prematurely white.

Days, then years passed. He heeded her instructions to the letter. His every need was attended. Anything he wanted, needed, craved could be found in just the right places, at just the right times. All except the one thing he ached for each night as he waited for the sun. Yet, every nourishing plate of food, each sturdy tent murmured unspoken rumors that the woman he cared for was beginning to love him. In surrender, he hoped and loved her even more. Hope spun dreams. Dreams embers fueled obsession. He shunned every temptation. Through sun dappled fields, icy riverbeds, windy desert; both he and time moved in a steady pace forgotten by the world. His hair begun to match the object of desire. A devout follower of the light, the slip of years went unnoticed. His mission and the sun were his only focus. Until one day he found himself an elderly man taking pained steps towards the shadow of a mountain.

Overwhelmed by emotion, his trembling legs gave way. Giving up now was not an option. He dug determined fingers into the cold earth and crawled to the shadows edge. Catching his breath, he rolled on his back and waited. The sight that met his eyes tugged at the unraveling thread of all his hopes.

"I've died. Haven't I?"

Lydia crouched beside him. Her hands moved in a sweeping appraisal of the old man's body. "Time has made you..." she searched for the right words as she poked his ribs a little. "Tender." she finished.

A trembling, wrinkled hand touched Lydias cheek in gentle wonder. "You haven't aged. You're the same. I've either died or I'm dreaming."

Lydia pinched him and giggled. "Tis no dream, Nathaniel."

"And now? Will you love me now" The question hung in the air before he could stop it. His need demanded her answer.

Lydia, ran her hand across the corner of her mouth catching an escaped line of drool.

"Oh yes." She stood. "I will love you in the only way I know how." Nathaniel looked at her blissful, eager, and expectant, even as her skin turned to ice blue scales. The woman he knew faded as she transformed into her true shape. He did not flinch as she changed. He simply reached out to the large winged beast that loomed over him, stretching it's wings. Sharp white claws lifted him. The larger version of her ice blue eyes swept over his dangling body. Her hot breath warmed him as he looked upon her with perfect trust. The realization that this was anything other than the culminating moment of his dreams, never had time to gestate in his thoughts. Sharp teeth separated head from neck in one merciful bite. Nathaniel's last moment had been an intensely happy one.

Lydia stretched out on her back, catching the blood of her former lover on her tongue. She drank his essence by the mouthful, until the pouring of his lifeblood slowed. Greedy, she shook the last drops out of the ragged wound like a child with a pixie stick, then bit him cleanly in two. The crunchy mouth feel of his bones and his tender flesh was something to be savored. She grinned a terrifying dragons smile finding she truly did love him. Who doesn't love a good meal?

Stream of Shattered Conciousness

I woke up this morning with these words in my head. I found them interesting. Or perhaps, this is just the downward slide into psychosis for me.

Sing to me my unic.

The parable of the raven is no more.

Comfort me. I can no longer bear to wash these useless rocks.

I shall dream in the swirls of your song.

Of when the sun used to drink the light from the earth and the earth was washed in darkness.

The holder of the unfocused eye sees no more.

Sing.

Deliriumtree vs. The Real World

No matter the online format there's always an allusion to the "real world" or "real life". I have trouble with this concise division. My waking world is one of ghosts and time unraveling in a slow thread pull. Life has never been short for me. It is long. It aches and groans and is filled with seconds that stretch an eternity. I struggle to fill time, to make it pass faster. Little projects stabilize me, and keep me from going mad.

A question posted by RemitanceGirl and later a blog found here had me thinking in depth on this subject today. An ocean exists between my online and offline personae. I am left stranded no matter which Continent I choose. I took the polls and has this comment to add:

"I had to read this post several times to really grasp what you were saying. In so doing I found myself voting choice 1-completely different. I see who I am online as being the real me, whether I’m on twitter, a flight of the conchords message board, writing email… the online me is the real genuine me. I don’t think of the “real world” me as even being me. I don’t know who or what that person is. I’m like white noise in real life. My hair hangs over my eyes, my hands are clasped tightly to my ribs, and I can go weeks without hearing my own voice even once. But, the me that you speak to is inside there. She’s thinking, dreaming and having conversations with people inside her mind (even though they don’t know it.). That person is trapped. She doesn’t know how to get out. It’s not even shyness. When I’m around other people it’s like thinking in a thick swamp. My thoughts are sludgy and slow. Climbing mount everest seems far easier than carrying on a conversation. I smile and nod a lot. I end up saying yes to opinions I don’t agree with, but I can’t think straight enough to even realize that in the moment. I’m completely mired in this swamp. My brain betrays me and my words are just gone. A blind panic fills my body as I try to answer a simple question. I scramble to find words, but they’re just gone! But, then I come online and it’s dry, flat lands and I can think and run fast in my mental landscape. I can follow the conversations being had. People become something that I can understand and not a rubix cube that I’m constantly turning to try to get all the pieces to line up. I don’t have to guess if someone is happy,sad or angry at me. <-That makes it all clear. I'm calm and suddenly I can think, that foggy barrier that's always there in the real world falls away and I'm no longer stuck inside my head."

My state of existence is neatly summarized in that paragraph. The "real world" is a realm where little is known about me. For many not even my occupation. They simply know I do something at a kennel. If I were to inquire,"What are some musical artists I like?" Many of you would quickly answer "Tori Amos" or "Flight of Conchords." The answer would be a knee jerk reaction, requiring little thought. However, my co-workers, of a full time job I've held for 2 plus years, would be left completely flummoxed. Not for a lack of interest. They did ask. In the beginning, people always attempt to get to know me. My body and mind betray me as stated above. I flood and drown in panic as I search for simple answers. A word, a verb, a noun? They've all fled. I transition into a computer program that's always buffering but never loads. The information simply can't be accessed. My answer ends up something invariably innocuous like "I like a bit of everything." This tidbit offered following the longest of pauses and followed with eye contact and a smile that I had to think about, not simply offer.

Socializing is a theatrical performance for me. I am continually directing in my mind. "Make eye contact, now smile and nod. Too much. Look down at your lap. Okay now back at him. Wait, what was he saying?" The concentration such an act requires leaves me piecing conversation together from fragments and context clues. Subtleties, nuance, the emotion of a voice are all things lost in the fray. The steady concentration required leaves no room for these things, let alone my actual self... I find myself intensely drained by the end of long stints of in person contact requiring solitude to reflect and recharge.

A trademark of Asperger's syndrome is inability to read faces well. Extremely high on the spectrum, I am no exception. I understand obvious cues, such as laughing, tears, and unmistakable anger- such someone punching a wall. Apart from the wildly dramatic I am left guessing. I tend to worry others are mad at me if I can't decipher a face. This exacerbates my taciturn nature and inclination to hide. I remain convinced that no one has ever flirted with me apart from a computer. I am open to the probability that I am merely missing cues. However, it is equally possible that simply no one flirts with someone that essentially a void.

Prior to the internet I had no connection to the outside world. I tried all the things experts suggest in vain. I went to church. I frequented coffee shops. I took classes for years, often with the same people. I manged to escape human bonding completely unscathed every time. I received every piece of puzzling advice. I remember being told "In order to a make a friend, you have to be a friend." When I inquired "How do I do that?" I never received follow up advice only silence or the reply of "Don't you know?" How would I know how to be something never experienced? I felt deeply flawed for not knowing.

At age 21 dial up internet access brought the first glimmer of friendship into my life. The pressure to stage direct and act was suddenly removed. I found myself able to think with astonishing clarity. If there was something I didn't understand, I found I had the courage to ask for clarification. Life online made sense. I was even able to make others laugh. For the first time in my life people were responding to me. They were happy to see me. I was able to learn and be learned about. There were handy emoticons to eliminate all guess work. Actions were suddenly spelled out such as *looks at you puzzled*. I found I was suddenly able to not only express myself, but I was able to run like a gazelle in my mental space. I was free. Liberated.

This glimmer had a shadow side. The online world is transient. It is seen as less real, less important, less tangible, rather than simply another format of communication. The "real world" often takes precedence in the lives of those you depend on for companionship, no matter how understandable, it can become a lonely waiting game at times. People began to enter and exit my life in a parade, often to disappear mysteriously. An account closed, a cessation in email, I turned the blame inward every time. I began to develop a tremendous fear of abandonment. Meeting an online friend in "real life", I found to be a perilous risk. Not for wild stories you read in the media. It became a matter of could I make the transition effectively? Could I be the real me, out loud? At times, I succeeded. It was easy and fulfilling when it all clicked. At other times I miserably disappointed those I met. My friend left with a feeling of "Where did you go?" The friendship would end soon after. What is liberating and confidence building can also be damaging and senselessly hurtful. I sometimes find myself wondering if the people I consider friends see me as expendable on some level. If I were to shut "Deliriumtree" down in all her forms. Would I be missed or simply shrugged off? People drift away from online venues constantly. It is considered the norm, to me it is sudden and jarring. A hole is torn from my fabric of my world and I am left reeling. I have people I still mourn, years later. Having a social life that exists solely in cyberspace carries a heavy weight. If I let that weight settle, the emptiness is staggering. I become all too aware that I am one of the few people who has never needed a cell phone. Why do I need to pay a monthly bill so the phone can not ring when I'm out as well as home? The temptation to dwell on such things can never be heeded.

Perhaps, it is simply a matter of quality of friends. The circle of my online friends has transitioned in the past few years. My fotc fangirls are the fiercely supportive family I have never had. Twitter is full of amazing souls who never cease to provide me with wonderful companionship, inspiration and giggles. I even have had a best friend for over a year. Someone I can tell anything to, who never judges me, but also doesn't fail to tell me when I'm wrong as well. I am making the gamble of meeting him for the first time in October. A high risk for the longest friendship I have ever had, but my hopes are high that it will be well worth it. I have even been told that I'm sexy. Me! Perhaps, it was simply a matter of finding not just people online, but the right people. There's hope for me yet.

Love and the Blasphemy

I shared this letter with a friend a while back as it's the perfect example of the sort of mail I receive from family on a daily basis.

Godless Hell Bound Whore,

Do you think that you are a basically good person? If you believe in your heart that you or anyone else is, by nature, basically good, then you have believed a Lie. Do you believe, as the American Declaration of Independence proclaims, that “... all men are endowed by the Creator with certain inalienable rights, and among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?” If you do, then you are wrong. The Bible teaches that we have no “rights,” because all of our so-called righteousness is like filthy, stinking rags compared to the true righteousness of the one, true G-d (cf. Isaiah 64:6). Everything that you have is a gift from G-d - not because you deserve it. What you deserve is to go to Hell because of your sinful pride and rebellion against our L-rd and His ways.

Well I love you

At some point in my life the words I love you became no more than a catch phrase used to end a familial conversation. Merely prelude and an afterthought to speech tinged with venom. I began to flinch visibly at the utterance of those words. Until one day, I ceased to react at all. I could never succumb to the idea that I should love someone simply due to random similarities in a few strands of DNA. It was expected and the unattainably of such a request marked me as impaired in my families eyes. I have often teetered on the knifes edge of instability wondering if they were right. I'm not sure I am capable of love.

I watch people's slow waltz with heartache. I unravel their intense longing with a sort of fascination. In my eyes, I see them chasing a tenuous fallacy built of shadow and whimsy. Yet, it is the one myth everyone believes. Everyone but me. I feel like something integral is fractured in my mind. I don't seek love. I flee from it. It is but a dusty dream I held as a little girl. A small glimmer of childlike hope that a family would hold her and love her. At some point, that dream shattered leaving me fragmented in a way I can not repair. I don't even wish to. Not to say I don't care for the beings drifting through my world. I care very much. I can't help but wonder if I'm somehow cheating them. My emotional expanse borders many limitations and is framed by impenetrable brick walls. Love languishes in mystery amongst the chaos of my mind, to remain an unsurprising blemish in my mental landscape. Much of life seems a quietly uttered secret, I simply can not hear. Why should love be any different? Perhaps, I simply held it too tightly. Or perhaps, as I suspect, it is simply not real.

Cars should run on Urine.

I was window shopping in Victoria's secret today and the best idea ever hit me! Cars should run on urine! Doing my best impression of a 80 year old speedwalker, I mused on this thought while enjoying a succulent, air conditioned work out. I began to think of anatomy and how men are naturally built to fill up a gas tank. Basically, they have a handy dandy hose between their legs. Yet, just how much urine would it take to run an average vehicle? How might people best get from one place to another? The most likely solution seemed to be polyandry. Women should acquire a harem of men so they might travel about freely. It was pointed out to me today on twitter that there are devices that allow a woman to pee standing up. This seemed like a good alternative for women who either do not wish to have a harem or simply need to add more pee in a pinch. We will all have to drink more fluids. This is a good thing. I wonder why the potential for this idea as an alternative fuel has not been looked into? Everyone needs to pee. Let's put it to good use! Get busy science! Yes, I do realize I'm insane. But, do it anyway!

Blog Therapy: There will be more

There are times in my life when I look at the cuts on my legs...

And the bruises..

And I find myself wondering,"What is this all for? What do I have to show for all this?"

I spend so much of my life simply waiting... For it to get better. Others seem to fly in easy circles around my dreams, consuming heavily the delights. I simply watch. I feel my dreams shatter as I watch. I need to stop watching. I know deep down it can't be as easy as it looks. But, it looks so very easy.

I hatch up crazy schemes at times. Thinking this...this is the key. If I do this, try this, do more dogs.. It will get better. I can have things too. I dream too big and I crash. I crash so hard. It's so hard to reassemble myself when I do.

There are times when my only thought is... "I can't. I just fucking can't do this anymore. I won't! I'll hang myself from a tree if I have to go on like this. I just won't!"

But, I do. I always do. I move numbly making my legs work until they want to walk on their own.

I'm not envious in a text book way. A man I adore can have a thousand women. That is fine. I've lost my taste for those sort of relationships anyways. Finding friendship, is far more important to me than finding romance. It's people's lives, the places they visit, the things they do and can have. Those are the things I find myself growing jealous of. I wish for my life to have so much more in it. Just for there to be more.

I have to tell myself over and over there will be more. There will be more. Patience it's coming. I have to believe, because if I stop then there's nothing left. That tenuous belief is the string I am clinging to in my fragile web.

It's hard when that belief gets tested. Today I found myself fidgeting in blind panic for more than 15 minutes, because there were children near the part of the playground equipment I do pull ups on. I couldn't make myself go over there. I left feeling like a failure. Hating myself. Hating that I was so terrified that mere children would talk to me. Ask me what I was doing. I was shaking and I hated myself more for that.

I have to believe there will be a day when I can walk up and continue my work out routine despite the presence of others. That I won't be so afraid. That my main emotion will be happiness instead of constant choking fear. And that doors will open for me. That life will seem to have purpose and not just sometimes when my email box is full and I'm receiving a lot of tweets. My phone will ring. I'll have places to go, people to see, things to do. There will be more. There just will be.

Acceptance

Spending a bit of time thinking about my blog yesterday. It's easy to focus on the places and events that make us feel squeamish in life, where we feel we just don't fit in for whatever reason. We don't have the right clothes, the right life style, the right thoughts, we're too different, we don't have enough money etc. There are plenty of these places in life. That feeling of not being enough is often more of an internalized thing than a reality. True shunnings are thankfully rare once out of high school. Yet, our self inflicted feelings of displacement linger and nag until we overcome them or flee the place causing our distress. But, what about the people and places that accept us? The people and places that make it easy for us. Blissful? Once and a while I feel the need for an outpouring of gratitude and this is one of those days.

I have a friend that listens and accepts me quirks and all. I can't seem to freak him out. I can just be me. He sees all that I am and builds me up. Makes me believe I'm wonderful, beautiful, creative, intelligent and awesome. That's a tremendous thing. To be encouraged and accepted for who you are. To have someone support you. That doesn't put your choices in life down, even though others have. Is instead there for you in what way they can be. It's more like a dream of friendship. Only, I am blessed to have this dream be real. It's more than I can wrap my mind around sometimes.

I have a board full of lovely women unified by music. These women have taught me to see the joy in life. I don't believe any of us fit a mold. Some of us are nerds, perhaps. I feel completely at home amongst them, something I have very rarely felt with other women and only in brief moments. With these girls I feel at home always. We encourage each other and root each other on. They are like the family I wish I had. They've given me back the childhood stolen from me by abusive relatives and dared me to dream again, to laugh and play.

I have writers in my life. Amazing expressive souls who encourage me and provide me a place in their world. One of which took the time to email with me, answer some questions. A dialog I still think on to this day and gained much from. Another which has begun an online friendship with me. He's one of those people who has an odd sunshine effect on my demeanor. He's also very encouraging and sees me as "strong." A word I have never before associated with myself.

The thread that runs amongst these people is that they are all very unique, caring individuals. It could be said that everyone has something about them that makes them special. But, I don't believe that to be true. Some people just fucking suck quite frankly. The best people in life just don't fit in boxes. These people direct us and put our focus on what is real. When all is dark we have lost sight of what is true. Our memory has slipped. People who accept us help put us back in place. Through them we realize we're worth caring about and dare we say it pretty neat.

Thank you to all the accepting wonderful people in my life. I am so happy to have met you.

Wanted: Travel Guru

For the last year I have been saving for a trip. Originally, this trip was to be fotc related. Fotc announced their tour much sooner than I expected. So my dream fell by the wayside mostly due to budget and a crisis at work. The person I was taking to the concert became a friend to me of sorts. The best friend I've ever had really. So I rebounded very fast when my fotc dreams were not to be realized. The goal of taking the trip shifted to meeting my friend. Now I'm unsure if I still have a friend. If this is true, there's really nothing for me in this trip.

However, being Aspie I am often wrong in regards to people. If it happens I am not best friendless. I have a plea.

I need a travel guru. I need someone to be the brain I do not possess in this regard. You will be dealing with a multitude of questions and anxieties. Overall your job is to guide me. Oh why put a pretty bow on it? I flat out need someone to take charge and tell me what to do. Make me your bitch! Being told what to do provides an odd comforting solace to me. I have not traveled. Not alone. I once boarded a plane but arrangements were made prior for me. Someone picked me up at the airport and drove me around. I had a couch in a home to crash on. It was all taken care of for me. This was however 15 years ago. Since being on my own I have not traveled further than my car has taken me. I have never made a hotel reservation, flight reservation...etc. I have no idea how one gets from the airport to a hotel. Bus? Walk? Hitchhike? Someone told me you can't bring shampoo on planes? Why? How do I wash my hair? Can my laptop come with me? I don't have a cell phone. How do I communicate with people if my laptop can't come. Clueless does not even describe me. Even if this trip does not happen. Even if I have lost my friend. This is knowledge I need to have as there are others I'd like to one day visit. DM me on twitter if interested. You will have your hands full! I am a neurotic mess. See neuroti-ca blog.

An Erotic Ode to Spray Cheese

Unapparent, yet fervent need. I sit quietly wanting you.

There is nothing else in this moment I desire more. My thoughts seek you out.

I imagine you hard in my mouth. Savoring the taste of your warm spray on my tongue.

I crave you like nothing else. My lust for you consumes me. Come to me...

Everything is here for you. All you could possibly need. Even whole grain crackers.

Fill my mouth and then my body. I want to taste you so badly..

Come to me you cheap fucking bastard whore! Fill me again and again.

I am ravenous. I want you so much...

spray cheese.

Neurotic-ca! (The song Madonna would have written if she was me.)

Submitted for your approval, or at least analysis. One woman, plagued by many neurosis. You have entered "The Neurotic Zone".

My top 20 list of neurosis in no particular order.

1) Clowns!! Clowns are a big one for me. I remember being approached by a clown as a little girl. He had offered to make me a balloon animal "Any kind of animal I wanted." Before I could answer, my grandmother grabbed me by the arm, drug me away and yelled "Get away from that clown, he's going to rape you!" Thus my fear of clowns was born. Plus, they're just plain creepy.

2) Needles!! There's just got to be a better way.

3) Any kind of change! We aspies like our routines and what to expect. When something changes, it shakes our whole world. I want the same thing, every time, the same way please as much as possible. Routine is comforting, change freaks me out!

4) Do not, under any circumstances watch me while I eat. I mean, ever! Please, keep eye contact with me as minimal as possible if you are my dinner companion. There's no rationalization of this one. I just generally feel judged while eating. As if people are thinking.."Yeah, shovel more food in heifer. Your ass is getting fatter by the second." Eating out, I will find a spot as far away from people as I can get. If my back is turned to the room, even better.

5) Are people mad at me? This is a big one. Overall I was not socialized as a child. Add to that, the Aspie inability to decipher people and you have one very lost person. I expend large amounts of time trying to understand others. I find I get it wrong, very wrong much of the time.

6) Magazines in the bathroom with celebrities on the cover. I always have to turn them over and if that doesn't work put a towel over the magazines. I worry that the celebrity pictured will suddenly get an image of me on the toilet if I don't do this. Just imagine, Bob Dylan, he's having a lovely meal and all the sudden "Ack! there's that girl on the toilet again! Why!!" Even though I do know that this is unlikely I prefer to spare Bob Dylan the discomfort, especially since I do have a rather small bladder. I also do not like being stared at.

7) That last bite of banana. No spider is going to lay eggs in my brain thank you very much!

8) Any large gathering of people for unknown purposes. Crowds in general make me uncomfortable. However, if I know why they are gathered together it does offer me some security.

9) Samples in stores that are handed out by people. I prefer the samples to just be free floating. I don't want to have to muster the courage to get free cheese. I would like to just have the cheese and not have to force myself to be social.

10) Confrontation. I am wet myself scared of confrontation. In a cape I do better, but not by much.

11) Too much of the color brown. I don't like the color brown in general. Large concentrations of the color brown can be very unsettling to me.

12) Certain public restrooms. If I have to go in public I prefer it to be at a bookstore.

13) Random pains. Is that cancer? Is my pancreas shutting down? Never go on webmd if you are at all neurotic. Seriously, don't!

14) Cell phones or any other cordless phone. I don't trust technology.

15) White colored vehicles. My eyes don't see white very well. A white vehicle in front of a white building can be virtually invisible to me. Not a good thing. So far no wrecks, but many near misses.

16) Centipedes. I was once told by my mother that if a centipede walks on you it will rot little holes in your skin. I have since found this to be untrue, but the repulsion to them remains.

17) Time. It's a concept I struggle with immensely. It goes at a snails pace for me. One day can seem like a week. I have to really stay on top of how much time has gone by. If forget I get panicked about bills not being paid, people who haven't written me (are they mad at me?) etc..etc.. This is a particular problem in my work. People want estimates of time their pets will be done. I am obscenely horrible at this. If forced to select a time it's chosen purely out of the air with no expertise at all. I then panic, skip lunch and end up rushing through my day to find I finished the pet 2 hours ahead of schedule. I always feel I am grooming too slowly. It is only my concept of time that makes me feel thus.

18) Food that has fallen out of it's packaging in the refrigerator. I was told as a girl any food out of it's packaging was full of worms. I can't shake it to this day. I think my family just made stuff up to keep me in line, truthfully. Very unhelpful.

19) Abandonment. Another big one! My life has been a parade of people entering and mostly exiting. I get tired of saying goodbye, so this fear pervades my every relationship with another being.

20) Very crowded parking lots. I will park in a lot I am comfortable with and walk several blocks if I have to avoid certain parking lots.

My Artwork

Just a bit of my artwork. Enjoy!

Of dreams and fascinations..

We sit on the precipice. Our legs entwined dangling off rock. I am cradled in his arms, warm and safe, quietly observing the chasm spread before us. It was as if the grand canyon shook off the reigns of it's beauty and favored becoming a desolate pit. The expanse of it stretched beyond the what the eyes could take in. "The Lady of Shallot has a deplorable habit of taking hostages." I tell him. "You really should go."

He holds me tighter, his only response. I listen to the quiet beat of his heart, and relish the soft rise and fall of his chest. A light breeze curls around us. My hair slides across his shoulders moved by gentle currents of air. I open my eyes and face the unfathomable chasm spread before us. I don't want to see it.

His hand squeezes mine. "It's time" he tells me. I feel his breath on my neck. Pink flushes into my white knuckled grasp as my fingers gently uncurl. I consider the bent metal object I had been clutching so tightly. "Why a spoon?" My silent thoughts spoken aloud echo in the desolation. Why would anyone choose such a tool to fill in such wreckage?

"Because change is slow. It won't happen overnight. But, it will happen." He answers as he aids me in scooping in the first spoonful of scorched earth. It tinkles like the sounds of chimes touched by wind and shimmers as sprinkles of sunlight as it descends down into nothing.

"It's all so bleak." I tell him. My hand shakes wanting to drop the spoon. Watch it turn end over end and fade into the deep well of dirt and nothing.

"Only if you let it be."

I take a spoonful of dirt and I drop it in. It fans out, descending as a cloud of dust. I scoop up another, and yet another. I see something tiny, small as a grain of rice, wriggle out of the pores of my skin. It squirms down my leg and falls unto singed burnt rock. A small piece of my self hatred crawling away, disgusting and maggot like. Detached, I watch it go and take in the charred landscape surrounding. "There's so much loss."

"That deficit is not yours but that of what you perceive to be missing."

"How do you not feel the loss of something tangible. When all there is devastation and void?"

He takes my hand and we spoon in one more cloud of dust. It dances in the breeze,glitters in the light and sounds like children's laughter. I put my hand absently down onto the rock beside me. I flinch. Instead of dust I feel grass, soft and alive. I look at these small green sprouts flourishing in my world of destruction. Some dark part of me stirs. I feel more alive with it's awakening. I trace my hand over the tender leaves of grass. The corners of my mouth twitch as I think of tearing them for the ground and burning them. I let the urge pass and I feel it coiling inside me. Waiting. I close my eyes, shudder, and sigh. Peace again. I leave the delicate signs of life to grow and continue to spoon dust into the void.