#autism is a hell of a drug because i decided i would make this LAST NIGHT AT ONE AM but i powered through jesus

[lmanburgseulogy]

something something ship of theseus

reference ❤️

[shikagemaru]

Been having an identity crisis recently. There's It a whole lot of things adding up to that. Call it a rant and ignore it if you want. There's only like 3 of you guys anyway.

I would put a readmore here if I knew how to do that on mobile (thanks for sucking, only social media app I feel at all comfortable with)

•It really doesn't help that the past 7 years of my life have been completely stagnant. Since I haven't been able to work my wife and I have had basically no freedom of our own.

•2 years ago I was put in jail because a pair of psychopaths decided to go from 70 to 0 on the highway in front of us, and get out to try attacking us. I tried backing up to go around but obviously the car behind me was too close and the highway was at speed in the right lane. So I had to go around on the grass while these 2 crazy assholes were approaching while shouting threats. One was coming for my wife's window. So I did what I had to and bumped one of them. He wouldn't move and our safety was more important than him being hurt a little. There was a high speed chase through our community, and while we're on the phone with the police these two are trying to force us off the road. The cops even see one of them hanging out the window shouting threats at us. We pull into a mcdonalds parking lot and after talking to them for a bit the cops arrest me because he said I "ran him over" on purpose. He was so uninjured that he refused medical care at the scene, but he kept telling people I ran him over. They were also both arrested btw. I was held without food or mpving air for over 13 hours and I have a history of heat stroke and hypoglycemia (it's bot exactly that, but it's like living outside of a big city and tellinf people you're from there instead of the local podunk you actually live in). Long story short it was torturous, and then I got put in actual jail. They didn't care that I have a long list of disabilities. When I was released I had to wear an anklr monitor while taking weekly drug tests. The numbers on the drug test kept reading that I was using weed even though I wasn't. It was insanely stressful as the numbers didn't change from one week to another. My fear was that because I was rapidly losing weight from stress that the thc being held onto in the fat was being detected. NOPE. turns out one of my DAILY meds was testing false positive. "Shouldn't they know about the false positive drug and account for it?" Youd think. But when they scanned my medication bottles that one came out blurred and they never entered it into their system. In case there are any lingering feelings that I was guilty, the court case more than handled that. The prosecutor was the kind of scumbag that, before my trial, tried prosecuting this guy's mother-in-law for assaulting him when she tried taking her grandkid out of his arms because he was using the baby to shield himself when the family confronted him about having a fake medical license and it ruining all their lives. It turns out I was put through hell and all he was seeking was "anger management counciling" because he believed that I, the guy protecting his wife, had road rage issues. One listen to the 911 calls would have straightened thst up. My lawyer kicked his ass just a little more than I did on the stand. Long story concluded, thanks for the ptsd. The nightmares have been lovely. So is panicking whenever a door closes kinda loud.

•Last year I was able to self diagnose myself with autism. For those who don't know, the vast majority of autistic people self diagnose, largely due to "experts" on average not being well educated on what autism is outside of the stereotypical cases. Most women aren't diagnosed until adults. Most "high functioning" (which is an awful description when you lesrn that it was created by a literal nazi to separate autistic people into "kill these ones" and "don't kill these ones" categories) people aren't diagnosed until adulthood. And by then actually getting the diagnosis is a challenge. And frequently it involves exercising privelege to get the right people involved.

So knowing what I know now a lot of my life suddenly makes sense. People accusing me of being manipulative when I literally don't know what it is that makes them think that? Severe miscommunications? Obsessing over specific topics to the point where people want to avoid me? Always being "the weird one" and as a result being a social outcast from day 1? Despite being considered very intelligent, I've been super easily manipulated by people my whole life. I can barely ever tell a person no, even if I know I should. Hell. There have been entire relationships I've had with people where I thought we were friends and they didn't think the same thing. Learning who or even how to trust becomes a challenge.

Yeah, it all makes sense now. I want to say "i don't know how they didn't see it", but I do. The 90s was shit for mental health. Since they knew I had tourettes (thanks for that, universe) and adhd, my obsessive tendencies were labeled ocd. Actual adult relationships have gone entirely to shit because of miscommunication. People seem to think I mean one thing when I mean another entirely. People think I'm angry when I'm not. I've basically been told never to be passionate about a topic.

How does a person handle that? It doesn't unfuck relationships with people. Once someone thinks you're lying and manipulating that's it. Nothing you can ever say will ever dissuade them. It doesn't matter that they were the ones that misunderstood. Somehow it becomes the fault of the autistic person. And good luck if you're ever autistic and have a panic attack. So I'm trying not to care about that. It's hard. It's especially hard knowing that things didn't have to, and may not have gone the way they did if i had known about it earlier. I wish I could rebuild certsin relationships. My wife and I used to fight, but since we realized that both of us have these triggers because we're both autistic, we resolve almost every misunderstanding like a walk in the park. But that doesn't work with people you haven't spoken to in years. Even if a lot of it was frankly their fault.

•And the latest fuckery? I have no idea what gender I am. If I had the power to shapeshift I'd probably change on a daily or hourly basis. I had an alt account years ago where I posted fanfiction. Some people in the community assumed they knew my gender and pronouned me as such in the comments. That was the first time I had ever experienced gender euphoria. I was....upset, when someone corrected them. Would have been nice if they asked me first. I enjoyed the confusion quite a lot actually. And since I have a terrible time coming up with names for things (my screen name is from 20 years ago and I never figured out a new one) so I don't know where I would start building up a new persona. And for what? To get the rush of people not knowing which pronouns to use? I hate it. I want it. I don't know if I can ever come out as trans. People think trans means m2f and f2m, and it doesn't really matter to the public consciousness that there's more to it than that. I want to scream at people that I'm trans, but i don't know what I even want my body to look like. If I woke up tomorrow and I was suddenly transformed would I be happy? I have no idea. No? Yes?

I don't know who I am or how to even identify. I'm a disabled, autistic, lgbtq ethnic minority with no financial freedom, and my 40s are approaching. Life is a challenge. Sometimes I wish I could just Danny Phantom it up. And by sometimes I mean daily.

[tazrider]

Allez, pour ta peine : nombres pairs ! Tous.

Ah la vache... Ca fait beaucoup T_T Here we go!

2. How old are you? Between 20 and 40 but not halfway. Might be a multiple of 7. Or not...

4. What is your zodiac sign? Taurus. Been told it’s very fitting...

6. What’s your lucky number? Don’t have a lucky number but I like 3 (dates back to when I first read The Black Stallion when I was a kid and Alec and Black had the number 3 during their first race XD).

8. Where are you from? France, from where France fists Belgium XD (yep that’s a saying here).

10. What shoe size are you? Fucking way too small for my liking, it’s hell to find shoes my style... (37 or 6.5).

12. What was your last dream about? Something super weird (I always have super fucking weird dreams) but I don’t really remember this one. I don’t keep a log on dreams, seems too much work because it always swings between super weird and nightmares so not like it matters much...

14. Are you psychic in any way? Huh nope and don’t believe in these things.

16. Favorite movie? The Fifth Element, it’s not a great movie but it’s like a Madeleine de Proust and takes me back to simpler times. Also fucking funny, sci-fi and awesome music, what’s not to like?

18. Do you want children? Man, kids make me uncomfortable as hell. I prefer horses XD.

20. Are you religious? Absolutely not. I only believe in science and there’s no room in there for an hypothetical superior force, that’s supposed to be all love and shit and yet lets the world in that state.

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Ah, unless you count speeding tickets as getting in trouble with the law...

24. Baths or showers? Showers.

26. Have you ever been famous? LOL nope and don’t wanna be.

28. What type of music do you like? Ooh tricky question, I have rather eclectic tastes in music. Ranges from ancient music and baroque (I love harpsichord, learned to play the piano when I was younger) to post-hardcore / “hard” music and pretty much everything in between. Discovered lately I don’t mind some bluegrass even. What I don’t like would be a way shorter list... XD I’m less a type of music kind of person and more a how that music makes me feel person, regardless of the type of music and the person/band. That said, I abhor bal musette and mostly of what we call ‘nouvelle chanson française’... In general, I like it dark and tortured.

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 2 and a small one.

32. How big is your house? Tis an appartment and with the new job last year I was able to afford more than just a rabbit hutch! (65m2 yus!).

34. Have you ever fired a gun? Only airsoft and paintball guns, was fun.

36. Favorite clean word? Lately I’ve been saying ‘grave’ a lot, I manage to annoy even myself when I do...

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? I think it was 3 days or perhaps 4 and not even due to insomnia.

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? Eh not that I know of lol Pretty sure I’m not the type of person that gets secret admirers.

42. Are you a good judge of character? I think I am most of the time. As an introvert I spend much of my time on the sidelines of social interactions so I watch and analyze people a lot but I’ve been wrong a couple of times (especially if it’s a pretty girl -_-) and that fucking sucked each time...

44. Do you have a strong accent? In French? Nope, I made sure to erase it because I’m a snob like that. In English? Obviously I have a French one (been told it’s cute... -_-).

46. What is your personality type? INTJ, introvert all the way (is that what it’s referring to?) Because if not, I’ve been told by a psychologist I saw as part of something for my job who said I should get diagnosed for ADHD and autism, so...

48. Can you curl your tongue? Yep. Can make a tube with it, can also turn it over but only from one direction.

50. Left or right handed? Right but training the left to not be useless since childhood (you need to have a good feeling of both your hands if you want to be a good horseback rider).

52. Favorite food? Pasta all the way!

54. Are you a clean or messy person? Both. A clean mess XD Seriously, there are still some boxes I haven’t unpacked from moving in last year... My desk at work is a fucking clutter because I manage like 15 projects at the same time and sometimes the files all end up there... But I always end up fed up of the mess and clean everything like a tornado. Especially when I decide I have enough, I can’t do anything else until I cleaned everything.

56. Most used word? Fuck or ‘putain’ and it’s variation ‘putain de merde fait chier’ in French.

58. Do you have much of an ego? I do, it’s big and sometimes misplaced. I try to not let it get in the way though.

60. Do you talk to yourself? Oh yeah, especially when I fucked something up.

62. Are you a good singer? Nope, doesn’t mean I don’t like to sing very off-key when I’m alone...

64. Are you a gossip? No, not really.

66. Do you like long or short hair? In general? Long hair but I don’t care long or short as long as they’re comfortable with it and it suits them.

68. Favorite school subject? Hands down History and geology (wanted to be an archaeologist before I chose geology).

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? I’m a scuba diver (have my first degree, can dive down to 20m). I fucking love it but life happened and I haven’t been able to keep it up :(

72. Are you scared of the dark? No, I kinda like it. Although I don’t need the room to be pitch black to sleep.

74. Are you ticklish? Yeah and since I don’t always control my strength, it can lead to some kind of injuries to the tickler...

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? I guess? I taught at the engineering school in geology during my PhD, does that count?

78. Have you ever done drugs? Only weed a couple times. I try to stay clear from anything remotely addictive because I have an obsessive personality.

80. How many piercings do you have? None and not planning on getting some.

82. How fast can you type? Average fast I guess?

84. What color is your hair? Very light brown, bordering on blond (I’ve been told I’m blond and it gets even lighter in the sun...).

86. What are you allergic to? Dust and mold which is just awesome for a horse owner, everyday your nose in hay...

88. What do your parents do? Teachers both. My mother’s a History and Geography teacher which means a childhood spent visiting historical sites during any vacation.

90. What makes you angry? Stupidity, incompetence, injustice to name a few. Currently my neighbors letting the front door bang at any hour when there’s a note asking not to (my bedroom’s right next to that fucking front door)...

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? Nope nope but I thought about names for my future horse(s) XD

94. What are you strengths? Loyal to a fault, up front, smart, persevering. I’m fucking funny too.

96. How did you get your name? My father always wanted to name his daughter that way. I always thought it doesn’t suit me though.

98. Do you have any scars? Oh yeah... Left shoulder, both knees, right ankle, shins, nose, chin, hands (not counting the tip of one finger I nearly lost 2 years ago), right shoulder blade.

100. Color of your room? Plain white, I rent the flat so not redecorating.

[kanashierihime]

English fanfiction to come

When you have too many ideas and you want to write them down even if it takes years to do it 😂.

Short abc of stories below. Help me decide priority of writing 😊

AoKuro (Kuroko No Basket)

Regrets (One shot) - Warning: Major Character Death. Kuroko remembers Middle School, his young love and the world of empty sympathy that stole his love away. 

 Can We Still Be Friends (Around 8 chapters not sure)- Warning: Depression, suicidal thought - Kuroko and Aomine didn’t see each other for two years after being thrown away from the team of Miracles . Everything change when while doing his shopping he spots Aomine’s mother who asks him if he maybe could visit her son in the mental hospital. 

Wish (4 chapters) -  Aomine was bored. Everything was boring. New team, new rivals. Boredom created his life, till one day he wakes up from his nap in a cat body. Just what the hell?! 

Chrisawa (Daiya No A) 

You Get My Love  (around 10 chapters not sure) Warning: Depression, Homophobia, yips - Sawamura tries hard to blend into a team, but everyone just reminds him that he isn’t needed. The only person that actually cares about him is his mentor- Chris. He still loud and stubborn to be an ace, but then yips happened and he just couldn’t win over this. So he goes back to Nagano feeling worse than ever. He failed everyone. But surprisingly his mentor still visits him making Sawamura’s heart do some weird backflips. 

Forget ur books (4 chapters).  Sawamura was cursed as a child for disrespecting minor god. Now every time he read book he can make it real around him. So his family reminds him to read in a closed house to not affect the city in this weird magic. But one day while Sawamura is reading some of the history book no one noticed that one of the windows is open, turning the city into a place where nothing is normal. Especially not these warriors with swords ready to cut anyone in their way. 

Mirror (2 chapters) Warning: Cheating, coming out. Chris is working a doctor busy with his carrier. He has a wife but their marriage isn’t happy.  But then one day to his clinic came a young boy (who wasn’t so young) who made his heart skip a bit with his smile and nice words. 

BakuDeku (Boku No Hero Academia) 

(Don’t comment how most of these fics have P!nk song as a title, her song are just A+ okay? xD)

Trapped Mind (5 chapters) Warning: Angst, Hurt, Addiction to drug, alcohol, sex, depression, suicidal attempt, memory lost.  Izuku fell into his own trap of being a perfect hero. Katsuki not wanting to see his friends being judged to death by being just human that can make mistakes, decide to play the bad guy and till Izuku won’t get his memories back. But this task is far harder than any mission he did so far. Being hated by everyone left him trapped in a dead-end. 

Who Am I (5 chapters) Warning: Toxic parental love, Memory lost, bullying, depression.  Izuku moves to USA as a child after his accident where he loses half of his right leg. His mother is warry of everyone in his surroundings, she doesn’t want him to go back to Japan and meet with a person she blames of being responsible for his accident. But Izuku is having enough of being trapped in her arms and want to find out who he is, who he was before his mother decided to create him as a weak man.

90 Days (4 chapters?) Warning: angst. Izuku always wanted to repair his friendship with Katsuki. Wanted to laugh with him, study, going out. But reality showed that it’s not possible. Katsuki found new friends, people he likes to hang out. Their second year in UA and Katsuki b-day was the last straw to kill his heart. Seeing his friend laughing with their classmates, not being bothered by all these hugs and photos. Izuku runs away to his dorm room to cry his eyes out. And decides to go over Kacchan by the end of 90 days.

Walk Me Home (6 chapters) Izuku has autism that prevents him from having normal life. His only friend is Katsuki who seems enoying spending his time with Deku. But hearing his mom talking to his dad about her fears of him not being able to function without their help, to even find a job since meeting with people often ends with him having a panic attack. He wants to change, he wants to show his mom and Katsuki that he can be a proper part of society. But for that, he needs Kacchan help. 

Secrets (10 chapters) Warning: Child abuse, Angst, pedophilia. Deku is a vocalist in Katsuki band with Kaminari, Tokoyami, Awase. Deku is the only person who can deal with Katsuki moods and can sing the song their drummer creates. Fans and media have their fun wondering what is the relationship between them. Deku also wonders what is his relationship with Kacchan and why he can’t sing his own songs. 

Happy (around 10 chapters) Warning: Soulmate, angst, depression. Izuku loves heroes even tho he wasn’t born with a quirk, but he don’t have time to dream since his family life isn’t so happy. His dad found his true soulmate and his mom lost her mind over broken heart since for her his dad was her soulmate. Izuku from his young days must watch out for his mom, and every day he prays to not find her dead when he returns home.  Even meeting All Might didn’t make him eager to focus in hero path. He refuse All Might to be a hero, he doesn’t have time and his mom would go crazy if he would left her side. Wanting to save Kacchan was just a short thought of ending his misery. But somehow Deku ends up in UA in GE curse. And soon he finds up that his Soulmate is Kirishima. He feels how his body is changing because of it thing he doesn’t realize that Katsuki isn’t happy to find out.

Silent Scream (5 chapters) Warnings: Bullying. Izuku has troubles with speaking, so his parents showed him sign langue which find out more fun and enjoyable. But soon fun times ends when he ends up with the same kindergarten as Katsuki who wants to make him speak no matter what.  Everything goes in the far worse direction the moment when Katsuki gets his quirk. Not being able to control his new ability he goes too far with the explosion that made Izuku lose his hearing in the left ear.  (okay so it;s “A Silent Voice” but in MHA AU xD) 

Hurt 2b Human (DUNNO) Warning: angst, war, A/B/O, death. They say that Alpha ones are people that were blessed by gods. Omega were fruits of sweet desire for happiness. Katsuki was an Alpha. Japanese Solider who gonna die in Death Chamber any moment. No one knows why Japan lost the war. The only thing he knows that Russia won and now he gonna die.  Or maybe there is a hope? 

Timebomb (12 chapters) Fantasy AU. Katsuki and Deku fights with the evil mistresses who seeing that she can lose to them decide to split them apart and send Izuku to a different dimension. Katsuki roar with the grief of losing his mate. He captures his enemy to only learn that she can't bring him back. There is no way he gonna see his Deku again. But he can’t give up. He asks Uraraka for help and she creates a necklace to send him to other worlds, tho it will be random... So there he is going through 10 worlds to find his mate and return home with him. 

Dream of the Death ( 5 chapters)  Warning: major character death. Katsuki has few regrets in life. The biggest is telling his friend to kill himself.  But then by villain attack he is sent to the past where Izuku is alive. Soon he realizes that whatever he says to Izuku doesn’t go through. So he changes his tacting and go to his younger self and please him to save Izuku. 

Bonus story: Ten Times where Izuku got hit by quirk and made Katsuki ask himself of his sexuality (10 chapters) 

Haikyuu!!

Different way of love (3 chapters) Warning: Angst, Homophobia, depression, suicide, dealing with lose.  Kuroo thinks he has nice life. Good friends, a lovely boyfriend, and a dog. Nothing to complain. Till in Sawamura’s life show up his first love and things go not the way Kuroo thought it would.  Sawamura is dealing with depression, love issues, and past that can't be really forgotten. Life isn’t an easy mission.

Neko Love (4 chapters) Warning: Abuse.  Yokai had it enough of being ruled by weak humans. They started a revolution against them and won. Now people are their slaves and taste how yokais felt when humans bullied them for ages. Kuroo is a nekomata. He loves living in Sawamura household. He supposed to leave or rule over his past masters but he can’t find a strength to abuse his young master.

Tengu’s Book (6 chapters) Warning: abuse. Kuroo has the worst luck in the world. He was born with these strange powers and thanks to them he can see yokais. Not very pleasant thing to see. People usually are wary of him and are afraid of his weird looks and muttering.  Kuroo is used to being alone. Till one day he meets a tengu who gives him an offer. He gonna be his bodyguard for finding his wings. What can go wrong?

Dragon’s Heart (5 chapters) Warning: Slight angst. Fantasy AU. Iwaizumi is a dragon rider but the thing is, he seems to not being able to bond with his dragon so after his school is destroyed by Demons he searches for beasts master Sawamura who was cursed by Demons to be able to talk with monsters and was thrown from society. Their meeting is awkward. Sawamura can’t really speak human langue since humans usually avoid him and Iwaizumi can’t deal with his responsibilities as a warrior. 

Your Heartbeats (one shot) part of my Soulmate AU. Warning: Homophobia. Kuroo meets Bokuto in middle school and for the first time in his short life can feel his heartbeat. Bokuto was looking at him with the same confusion and happiness. All good vibes ended five minutes later when another player commented on how gross they were and should cure this. But does being in love is a really bad thing? Even if it between the same gender? 

Let me be drunk for now (5 chapters) Publish AU created by @bringmemyqueen  I like this idea so I gonna write something in it. Daichi has enough of his work, of people in his work. Why he seems to attract only men? Doesn’t he deserve some nice lady waiting for him at home? So every night he goes to a bar to drink and forget about his coworkers. He doesn’t know that this nice guy who keeps talking to him while drinking his beer is an author who works under Oikawa. But Iwaizumi is nice and his hands are warm when he touches him.

Where is my fun (one shot) Kenma prefers to stay home and play his videogames. It is his day off, so he has plans of not going out all day. But his friend has a different idea and god. Kenma can’t refuse him.

Bad Guy (one shot) It all started as a simple admiration. Watching Sawamura in action gave him chills. Even his old captain didn;t made him feel this way. He wanted to be tamed by this plain captain so he went to Karasuno to just see the object of his obsession, no big plans for it. Then this weird duo was screaming to him to leave their Queen alone and he barely remembered that cute glasses girl he was focused at Karasuno’s Captain that looked at him with such intensity that Terushima wanted to crawl to him and beg for something he never wanted to do before. 

That is freaking long. XD Thank for reading :) 

In MHA I wish i could write for different pairing alone fics but it just didn’t click in with me to try it. I’m still try to figure out some characters so their appearing in my fic won’t be a total disaster. (I’m looking at you Inasa xD)

[prorevenge]

Make me quit the day before my birthday? Have fun getting fired.

TL;DR at the bottom.

Quick background: From 2009-2012 I worked at a local quick lube chain. Oil changes in under 20 minutes only using a trusted oil brand etc. etc. Going into this job I assumed that’s all I’d be doing. Quick oil changes & the occasional tire rotation. I was wrong. Working for this specific chain its all about the extra services and products to bang customers over the head for that they might actually need, but not for double the price of the local auto parts store. Maintaining a higher average sale every month was very important for keeping your job. And just for reference the district managers wanted all service techs to at least have a $60+ average every month. A basic oil change was $35. On average we would do anywhere from 20-50 cars a day depending on the day of the week in a 3 bay garage. Its also worth noting that if you maintained a high monthly sales average consistently, you were considered better than everyone else and put at the front of the line for promotions. It was also very common for someone with a high average to go from a tech to being a manager of their own store within a year. Yes, there was a high turnover rate. And yes, it was most certainly due to management consistently hiring drug addicts and not running background checks on people. Now starts my story.

Over the course of my employment I worked my way up to being a shift supervisor. This was one position below assistant manager, but I still held keys to the shop and had the alarm systems code. I opened and closed the shop regularly and if I wasn’t too busy with college I could have been an assistant manager any time I wanted. Managers i worked with loved me & the district manager as well. It was honestly a fun job made a lot of friends working there that I still am friends with to this day. But then we got a new manager we’ll call Johnny.

Johnny was a dick. Younger guy, 25 at the time, thought he was hot shit cause he held an $80+ sales average consistently since he started. Some people considered him a blessing because he helped other techs get their averages up too. Turns out he only helped them to make himself look better for raises and promotions.

Heres a quick list of things Johnny did once he took over my store. Consistently disappeared while working for hours at a time to go walk around talking to the local college girls. Left every Saturday (the shops busiest day) 3-5 hours early and would have someone else clock him out at the end of the day. I soon discovered he lived in the next town over from me and knew people that knew him. “Johnny? A manager? Last time i saw him he was so coked up he punched himself in the face till he bled. He dropped out of high school and ended up living in the park for a while. How’d he get the job with no diploma?” He was bipolar so screaming matches and temper tantrums became a regularity. We had an employee that I believe had some form of autism and Johnny would make him do dumb stuff cause he thought it was funny. He dumped a mop bucket filled with dirty water on the shops floor as soon as I finished mopping it at the end of the day cause I pissed him off somehow. He got people that he didn’t like fired by making fake schedules showing they were off for 3 days straight when they were actually on the schedule to work and when the employee didn’t show up for the shifts he would write them up in secret for a no call no show for each day but didn’t tell the employee until they came in for their supposed shift and would fire them on the spot. “If you want to argue call corporate.” And now my favorite thing he did often that I walked in on him doing. Remember how I said he held a $80+ average? Well he did that by ripping off elderly customers by lying to them about their cars selling them services that either weren’t actually getting done or weren’t even needed and selling parts weren’t even parts the car had that could even be replaced or just wouldn’t be getting replaced.

I discovered his little scam by getting stuck closing the shop so he could go home a few hours early. I decided to use the time to go through the days invoices and finding two huge sales on cars that I worked on. Only problem was that I didnt do any of the services on either of those cars. Hell, one of the invoices said the transfer case & rear differential were serviced. Those dont exist on 2011 Honda Civics. I then started watching the customers he would ring up and write down notes like the car, time, and customer. At the end of the day Id find those invoices and get the internal numbers. At the time I didnt think I’d ever use these notes, but 100% thought they would be useful. And it certainly was useful the day before my birthday.

I requested my birthday off 2 months in advance by submitting a formal request form and handed it to the assistant manager who just started learning how to make the schedule and left a copy on Johnny’s desk. The day before my birthday Johnny and the assistant manager were looking over the schedule in front of everyone to see who was working the next day and when he discovered I was off he asked why. To which the AM replied, “well yeah he requested it a while ago didn’t you see the form?” Johnny replies with, “Yeah I did....fuck that. Request denied fa**** you’re working tomorrow. Got a problem with it turn in your keys now cause if you don’t show up you’re fired.”

I promptly changed into my street clothes, took the key off my key ring, handed it to Johnny, and left. He called me back a few hours later begging me to come back but I would still have to work on my birthday. I laughed for a few seconds and hung up. Now its time for the revenge.

I got in contact with someone in the corporate office a few hours away, explained the situation that had occured in the morning, and gave a few examples of what Johnny was doing wrong at the store. They asked if I could email them everything I had and promised they would look into it. The DM gave me a call asking if I wanted to work at a different store, but I turned it down deciding its time for me to move on. The job made me hate cars and people so it was time to move on. I didnt hear anything about it for a while till the guy who is now my best friend calls me laughing hysterically with news about Johnny.

Apparently Johnny had been begging for a raise or a promotion to start training people to become managers so he would be out of the stores & customer service completely. One day he got a call from the corporate office to discuss this. He was beyond elated and told everyone who would listen. Turns out that was a lie. They had him drive 3 hours away to sit him down to review footage of the things he’s been doing, going over those bogus invoices, and listen to voicemails of customers calling and complaining about getting ripped off. He was immediately fired.

Found out he ended up never finding work in the state again and actually ended up moving a few states away.

Myself I ended up in a different industry working for the state making way more money with a ton of benefits. Unless Johnny hit the lotto, the winner is me.

TL;DR Jerkoff manager acted like a jerk and ripped off old people to make himself look good. After he forced me into a position to quit I snitched. Few weeks later he drives 3 hours away to corporate a meeting where he thinks hes getting a raise or a promotion, but he actually ended up getting fired.

(source) (story by TonyDimelo)

[headlineeternal]

Kelly Rimmer on writing in two genres: how writing my new contemporary romance series differed from writing my women’s fiction novels.

If you’ve read any of my six previous novels, you probably know that I like to write emotional stories. They don’t always have the happiest of endings, although I do try to find something uplifting to land on over the last few pages! But the topics I have loved exploring over the last few years have been complex, difficult issues; things like domestic violence and forced adoption and drug addiction. My most recent book, The Things We Cannot Say, covers the joy and challenge of raising a child with autism, and tells the story of a young couple caught up in occupied Poland during World War Two! These books are incredibly research intensive and sometimes really difficult to write. I am putting my characters through hell, and some writing days for me literally are me sitting at the keyboard listening to emotional music while I type and sob. Even so, I love the way these books challenge me and make me think. I’ve learned so much about so many things as I wrote these books. My own opinions have been stretched and then changed and, although it might sound crazy to say, they forced me to empathise with people very different to me. Because of that, I feel like the way I love my fellow human beings has been deepened.

All that’s to say, I love my emotional fiction and I hope I’m lucky enough to write these kinds of books forever. But in 2016, I’d just written my book A Mother’s Confession (which is about domestic violence) and my book Before I Let You Go (which is about two sisters trying to navigate a complex legal situation after one is caught up in a drug addiction…while pregnant). I remember having coffee with a friend and she said to me something like ‘it must feel like you’ve been through both of these harrowing, life changing experiences at the same time’. Of course, fiction isn’t reality and I wasn’t quite that burnt out, but I suppose I was a little tired.

The problem is that I love writing. It’s my passion. My hobby. My favourite thing in the world to do (other than spending time with family and dogs, naturally). I felt like I needed a break from sitting at the keyboard sobbing, but I didn’t want to stop writing for any significant period of time.

I was pondering all of this when my friend shattered her ankle. It was an awful injury and she was trapped at home for months, basically immobile. I asked her what she was doing to fill her days and she told me she was reading romance novels. She was basically devouring them – dozens a week. Escaping into a world safe from the difficulties of her real life was saving her and I loved the idea that she’d found such solace in books. A few days later, I heard a podcast featuring romance novelist Kylie Scott. Kylie and I are both Australian and we happen to share our agent, and I was fascinated with her story. I bought one of her books…and by the end of the week, I’d read everything she’d ever written (except the zombie stuff. I’m terrified of zombies!).

It felt a bit like the answer to my ‘what to do now’ question had landed in my lap. A few years earlier, I had two characters pop into my mind, and I knew they didn’t belong in one of my women’s fiction stories. I decided I’d take Abby and Marcus, lifelong best friends, and try to give them a happy-ever-after. Their story absolutely poured out of me, and by the time I was halfway done, I’d already come up with ideas for their friends Paul and Isabel, and Jessica and Jake. The Start Up In the City series had been born.

It would be an understatement to say I loved writing these books. They are very different to my earlier novels – very modern, a bit steamy, and quite light-hearted. That’s not to say I don’t put these characters through hell, because sometimes I do. But these books will always end with our hero and heroine figuring it all out and finding a way to be together.

My women’s fiction novels are intended to entertain, but also to challenge and education and inspire. My contemporary romance novels will hopefully do all of that too, but they are intended to be a delicious escape from the challenges of the real world, and a reminder that in the end, love is everything we have.

UNEXPECTED is out on 28th May!

[ih8me2ash]

My Journal Entries (post #18)

( Word Count:  2356 )

“My name was safest in your mouth, and why'd you have to go and spit it out? Your voice, it was the most familiar sound, but it sounds so dangerous to me now. I have questions for you.. ” 

  "It's been a few years since you've been gone, and there's not a day that I don't think about you. I grew up to be exactly what you wanted, I've been living out the dream that you dreamt up. Because honestly life is a nightmare when I even think of a memory of you. You still haunt me, and you’re not even close enough to touch me, see me, breathe my air, not even close enough to hurt me.. So I thought, all you have to do is sit in you’re throne of lies, as the whiplash will hit me harder than a hurricane. What did I ever do to you that made you hate me so aggressively, when you mixed it so erroneously with the word love? And that was the worst part of this endless occurring heartache. That you would never admit you’re true feelings about my whole entire existence. Love is a word you don’t throw around so nonchalantly, effortlessly, easily, you get the point, you don’t throw that word around if you don’t mean what you say, and say what you mean. " “The only closure at this point for me is not the death threats, not the aggressive rants, the insults, the claims of me lying. It’s you finally saying those three words, do you want to know what it is? Come’on it’s okay to guess, no answer? Okay, I’ll say it. I want you to say “I hate you.” To my face, via text, to me. Because I know this time you’ll mean it.”  “You said, you’d love me like a sister would love her real sister. So tell me this, when I ask the question, “why.” Everytime I try to think of a time when you weren’t trying to use me.. Emotionally, physically, verbally, sexually, constantly,  you loved me like a sister my ass... And I kept it inside, all of it, to make you happy.. To make a facade of a happy life, so most nights I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep because of the things you would say and do to me.. And I don’t want people to believe me, I could care less who is on my side or not. Because I know what happened, it’s my body.. And you took it from me, you took my innocence, you took the only thing that mattered to me, and that was myself.. You still have that part of me, and honestly, you can keep it, if that’s what helps you sleep at night. Because that’s a piece of myself that I never want back,  Why did you leave me here to burn? I’ve combusted into flames, and rose from the ashes that held the spot of my body in graved into the soil. Reborn into the person that I, myself wanted to always be.  ”  “I think, you’re scared that I’m off my leash and chain, that this poor dog is going to cry and whine. But I don’t want to keep this negative vibe in-caved into my soul, sure I can rant and rave all I want. But what is the actual point of that? Fame? Attention? Fake friends built on a bridge of insecurities trapped behind a mask? Oh doesn’t that sound like the dream, but it’s not the dream I wish for myself. So I blocked all the people who even remotely associate themselves with you. To avoid the drama you and them bring along in the air to make me the slightest bit upset. Because I’m not unhealthy, I’m not obsessed by spreading mockery through out non-important peers, I’m not in controlling the media to turn myself into the victim, who wants to play the victim anyways? It’s really boring.“ “Speaking of playing victim; I love how you thought I would even been the slightest pushed away from our own brother, because the woman that called herself his step-mother. Let’s get one thing straight, I cried the whole time because she use this get together that was supposed to be about our brother but making it about trying to eat me alive. To torment, ridicule, jeopardize, snarl, nit-pick, bite, and poke at me. You know she acts like our real mother right? So you understand that she’s a psychopath? That now she verbally abuses him? He was trying to have fun, but you know that’s kind of hard when he kept being reminded of the bad things that happen to us. And not once did I mentioned the gun thing, because I did not want to trigger our “non-autistic” brother. Yes, to her the woman you think so highly about, thinks that our brother isn’t normal if he has autism and labels him with OCD?”   “Let’s take a step by step of how I felt that day, and let’s use a bland word I don’t want to use but that’s how it made me feel.. I felt like I was all alone, and now I’m a shame to our family because I didn’t choose them to run to. But you want to know something? Now that I think about it, I never belonged in the first place. You all are such hostile and violent people, I could never compare myself to you all, not even in a single timeline. It’s kinda embarrassing now that I think about it, all my family is good at, is making a big seen in public in make an absolute ass out of themselves. Hysterical, because to be honest my real family is just a joke to me. Of course, their are a few decent people in the bunch, but two have passed away, of natural and murder causes, one is on his way of dying, and going legit senile, and the last one is my brother who has a crazy bitch-ass of a step-mother holding him captive, making it crystal clear that she does not want him communicating with me. But seventeen years, beats two years. I raised him, not his father, not his real mother, not his step-mother, it was Nana and I.. And I was the one taking care of the family, went Nana couldn’t anymore, or at least I tried.”  “No one can say I didn’t do anything for anyone, while my sister was having fun getting knocked up on pills she could get in her body, I was making money, the same with Alex to support the family of not going hungry.. While balancing helping around the house, helping my brother with his homework, and getting caught up with mine always the hour before school started. She couldn’t keep a fucking job either, and when she got money, it went to things that were only for her, like drugs, booze, make-up, unnecessary things that we could not lived on.. And if my aunt said she cared and she loved me, then why the hell did she not check up on us? Did she think a 21 year old could take care of a family of five? This is the stuff the hit me so hard. It burns, and I’ve been made into the ashes of the pain and suffering that has been. This world is just a crazy fire, and I am a log being thrown in to it.”  

“She’s in love with the concept, as if we’re all just how she imagined. How we talked shit like we knew what we wanted, I still remember what she said.“I don’t need your love anymore.” It’s easier if she thinks she won so I’m going to let her think all she wants. Look at us burning down in flames for kicks but just know, I’m not saying this for your love, I’m just saying this because it’s over. And I used to blame myself, then I blamed everybody else, but never you because you were just a messed up kid, who’d step in it, get mad, and say you didn’t give a shit about anyone besides you. But I won’t change for you anymore, I’m ash. And I’m proud of myself. From where I came from, to where I stand now. It’s probably the most improvement that has ever even occurred in my life. Now can I say that I’m happy? Not at this point just yet, I’m still fighting my “demons” after all. Most try to end up physically in my life, but my emotions are always on high alert. Never calm with the feeling of you ever trying to control me again, which makes me sick to my stomach. ”  “I’ve been thinking about talking to you after the five years are up, this is for you to understand, that my existence even grazing your bubble occurs on your actions and how you decide to treat me in a few words. Treat me the way you want to be treated, and if you treat me like shit, that I’ll throw it back into your face like acid. Can’t say I didn’t try, and to be honest I know til this day, you haven’t changed. But I have, because I didn’t want hatefulness to control who I want to become later on in my life. I was tired of the gossip, so I dropped everyone who still talked about you, because you want to know something? I still love you, even if you fucked me up.. I think you fucked me up, I don’t know, sometimes I believe I could of done something, somewhere to make you stop all of the pain you have cause onto me. But sometimes you got to let go of some beliefs. Because I understand, you’re the type of person that cries wolf, and when someone tries to even help you out of the teeth gripping onto you’re limp body, that you’d swat away the hands of caring. Not even the most loving, supporting, caring, person in the world can even remotely take care of someone like that. Toxic, the only word I can use to describe you so clearly.”

“If you ever think about on a point in time where I ever hurt you, it doesn’t exist, because you made me out of that image to always support you.. And I was tired of being you’re security blanket, you learn when you could find other people to be fed out of you’re hands that you didn’t need me anymore. That in you’re eyes it was me who was never perfect to you. When in reality, you were the one who had so many insecurities  that you didn’t want to claim you had. You didn’t want to be the damaged and the damned, it feels hopeless doesn’t it? That’s how you made me feel all those years, without you even batting an eye about my problems. Because in the end, it’s always about you. Never about the people you tend to surround yourself with, and honestly I think you would care less about them. You just don’t want to be alone, but you already are. ”  “Those people, aren’t you’re family. You say that they are, but family doesn’t hurt you. They don’t make you feel unwanted and alone. They make sure you’re okay, and if you’re not, they say “it’s okay, we’ll work this out, and we’ll find away to make it okay.” That’s why I didn’t go to my real family, because I knew they would never do that for me. They would never care as much to look at me the same, and just blame me for everything that happened to me. As if I didn’t do that to myself already, for every second in this life.. But not anymore, people like Alex, DeAndre and Jennifer, know who is really at fault.. It was never me, but you. “ “Some part of me wants to know, if you ever understood your actions and were willing to take any of the consequences, and all this time acting dumb to it all? or were you just so mentally inefficient, or in a simpler way of putting it “to many screws lose,” that you didn’t really believe what you were doing to me was ever in the wrong? Because when I bring it up to a “normal” person, the same thing comes up of how you’re beliefs are invalided, or even cryptic. And they are disgusted of the fact that you still classify as an innocent person. When I was used by such a appalling person who dare called herself a “perfect older sister.” I still have flashbacks, now knowing everything was a lie and that you only wanted me to get your frustration out. Such a tedious tactic, or even better, such a cliche tactic.”  “You, even, forced me to smoke weed and get wasted with you! I never wanted to do any of the things that you thought I wanted to do, because I wasn't who you thought I was. You painted this picture of the perfect sister, and I struggled to fit my odd shaped puzzle piece into it, but I never could. Every time that I failed to do what you wanted me to do, you would yell at me and I would yell back, then you would shove me, push me into things, slap me, or threaten to sit on me. It doesn’t matter if you say that I wanted to smoke with you, it still against you! I was a minor, a kid, and you were supposed to be there for me, and not there to hurt me even farther. Because you cannot face the truth, that you are not defective, the world is. The only defect that you have, is that you don't know what love is, and I fear that you never will. You push away everyone that does love you, and manipulate those who are close to you. They should get their priorities straight, of what devil lives under their covers.”   “I can say now, that I’m in someway or shape of form of a so called survivor, of so many list of things.. I was finally diagnosed with Post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), I’ve apparently had it since a very young age. I’ve also been  diagnosed with depression and anxiety, anorexia, and panic attacks. I don’t know if you understand what this means, but sometimes I can’t sleep at night, I’m scared too. I can’t be around people often, or I’ll have an overload of thoughts that will come to mind that have actually successfully made me blackout or faint. I actually hate having these problems, I can’t even cuddle my boyfriend because sometimes he touches me to hold me in a better position and I will have flashbacks and I’ll choke back tears.. He can’t even kiss me often because it scares me.. I’m terrified of life because of what you and mom have done to me..”  “Petrified of women authority figures, or who are mothers, or even mothers to me. I don’t want to be female because women are never good in my eyes because you showed me what their actually capable of.  It’s not a phase I promise, and you calling me by my prefer pronouns made me disgusted, because you’re the one who said you would disown me if I ever changed my name or my gender. Being a kiss ass, doesn’t, make, me, like, people. It’s just makes you look ignorant, and cheap with words. I was taught, that people’s  options and opinions are valid in the real world, so why try so hard to bite you’re tongue. Don’t even want to call me a faggot or a disappointment to the family like everyone else did? They didn’t even know I identify as a male. They just go off the fact that I’m a liar and that I can never be trusted. Because I lied about the abused that went on in that house, you think they believe me if I said you molested me as a minor for three years? Of course not, because I was always the outcast in our family, I was the weird shy mutt. The one who was putting a dint in the financials of my mother’s pocket because I was “ill”, which I found out that I have a upj kidney obstruction, not kidney failure, mom lied to you all to get more pills about of the doctors. 

- ａｓｈｔｏｎ ♡

[diversity-production-blog]

Paranoia can be your friend...

I almost thought I had it within reach. A nice guy with a long history, performing with the very best, same as the other guy I ran into over 2 years ago. But there was something off from the get go.

He told me he’d be following me and my process on Facebook for the last 8 months until he felt he would be willing to start interacting with me. He didn’t want to get burned like the other guy did it to him for reasons I don’t know. But he was pretty much up-front with me telling me directly that he has Asperger’s and a mild-case of autism.

He wanted to be in charge. He wanted me to make sacrifices if I want to continue my career. I said, whatever pays me, I’m still gonna do it. It’s all down to our schedules. He said he’d be OK with that but he’d be extremely jealous because of his Asperger’s. We decided a day to meet and our first meeting went extremely well, even though he came right out of the gate telling me: - “If I don’t hear anything interesting out of your mouth in the next 20 minutes, I’m leaving.”

We kept talking for 2 hours, so I must have made an impression. But little did I know at the time that right in front of me was a man, past his prime, telling me stories about the famous people he performed with, he was a protege for Miles Davis and Al Jarreau. His rivalry with Marcus Miller, witnessing first hand Miles robbing off drug-dealers. All fascinating stuff, but I do know that somehow this would scar somebody’s psyche in one way or the other.

He had made up his mind already in the spot, but I hadn’t just yet, but out of the blue comes to people, listening in to our music production/philosophy talks and asked us the following and he went head-first calling me and him partners… (We hadn’t done anything together yet at this point.) I think the Asperger’s was in control from this moment on. Impulse, not thinking 3 steps ahead, but at the moment it just felt alright.

He was laughing and having a good time, but now looking back on it, I realized that right in front of me was a man medicating on alcohol, hidden in a plastic bag. I didn’t take that into consideration because I want to think the best of everyone I meet at a first glance, but again, my eyes deceived me at this point. I didn’t see this until I started to recap about the 2nd time I met him at the party where alcohol was a plenty and his wife was a little bit “off”, almost worried that something bad might happen at the place. It all started to make sense just 2 days later.

The young couple who’d introduced themselves as musicians to us outside the Starbucks that day, had just had 2 meetings with him out in public after I had departed. I received a phone-call from this man telling me he forgot to put me into the loop and his WIFE had to remind him if I was part of the team, he should call me. He told me he had a successful meeting with the couple the day prior and today he was gonna help them setup a music-computer so they could start sketching on song ideas that he wants us to produce. AGAIN, I hadn’t signed any contract or paper. He was not interested to know my side or what I wanted to do. The only thing we had in common was our shared philosophy about music.

The very same evening I get a video-call from the couple on their way home, telling me they were scared for their lives after being to his apartment for a 3-4 hour session of setting up the computer, but when they found out his personality changed, they freaked out, walked home and called me up directly. I honestly told them that THEY knew him better than I ever had. This was my warning that this collaboration wouldn’t last. If HE screws up and scares of clients, this would look really bad for me as well. Plus they told me that their meeting the previous day ended up with him crying in a restaurant. Plus he didn’t want to get paid in cash, but with alcohol. Already here, I felt deceived by this man. A man who preach about keeping focus, losing his own fucking shit.

After a long talk with my significant other we came to the conclusion, I lined up all the information I got about this man, asked previous people who had been involved with him, the answer was always the same: - Stay away from him. He’s living in the past and can’t let go. The only thing that keeps him away from advancing is that he’s trying to find his meal-ticket out and let someone else to the heavy lifting for him. Why we (everyone I talked to gave the same answer basically) aren’t performing with him is because besides that he IS an AMAZING bass-player, he is unhinged, ready to explode and break instruments on stage. (This explains why he told me he doesn’t go out performing anymore, but that is still part of my nature. I’m not giving that up.)

From that moment on, I was set that if there is more I can do with music, producing, writing, composing, playing, performing, recording, I’m not gonna give up all those skills just to satisfy one man who can basically blacklist me from all future work in this amazing country of Japan I call my home through bad faith and actions connecting all the way back to me. It would be really bad. It was not worth it and I let my wife send a message to his wife so she could break it to him. I really wanted to tell it to his face, but since I wasn’t sure how bad his mood-swings could be, it’s probably better that someone who knows how to talk to him could break the news for him.

The next week that follows was bad comments on my videos from him online on my Facebook account, telling me my career was gone and frozen in hell. That I would never advance beyond his abilities. For me, the reason is that I don’t look at music as a game. It was never competition for me. And this is where our philosophies breaks, and I say it again. He want other people I work with feel jealous that I’ll be working for him. EXCLUSIVELY. I can’t do that. I want to have many workers as possible. I don’t have friends (His words and mine), but I’m not gonna cut off the people that have helped me so far for one selfish man. He says he has connections back in L.A, connections with the people arranging the Tokyo Olympics. Those are all big words, but no shred of evidence. But what is to believed by the people who have worked with him, it’s probably true.

Older doesn’t always mean wiser. If you made many mistakes and never learned from them, you’ll never advance to the next level. If you never see yourself understanding you’re making mistakes, you’re to blind to see your own faults and cannot advance. If you continue repeating the same mistakes without correcting yourself, giving yourself instant feedback to become better, you are fighting a losing battle without an end. I’ve made many mistakes. Things I didn’t understand back then has become very clearly to me now. I’m probably more Japanese now than I was since coming here from Sweden. Certain times, paranoia can be your friend.

[smokefalls]

Title: The Golden House Author: Salman Rushdie First Published: 2017 Genre: fiction Content Warning: parental death, suicide, shooting, alcohol/drug abuse, mentioned police brutality, infidelity, threat of sexual assault

Hooooo boy. Where do I even begin with this book?

For one, The Golden House is a hot mess. I really don’t know how else to put it. It’s a departure from Rushdie’s usual fiction layered with magic realism, which takes place in India… Though like his other novels, there are plenty of passages scattered throughout to ruffle plenty of readers. (He’s not very subtle about comparing Trump to the Joker, for one.)

While I have not read The Bonfire of the Vanities, I have seen from other reviews that there are striking similarities between it and The Golden House. I would definitely agree with the comparison to The Great Gatsby, though, as you’ll discover in this review.

The Golden House highlights the opulence and absurdities of the filthy rich. Know that you’re in for a ride through soap-opera level drama and characters. The closest touch of that Rushdie Magic Realism™ we get is when we meet Vasilia, the “sleek Russian expat” (to quote the dust cover), who quite literally has Baba Yaga inside of her and is a level of cunning that throws quite the wrench into the Golden household. Speaking of, this mysterious family of expats from India is equally as bizarre. We have the three sons: Petya (an agoraphobic alcoholic most likely with autism), Apu (a disaster artist of sorts with flamboyance like no other), and “D” (who I’ll get into, because his character was most interesting). Oh, and of course, the shady as hell father, who happily adopts the name Nero. Yeah, you read that correctly. To quote Nero Golden on this name choice:

Yes! Compare me, if you will, to that monster who doused Christians in oil and set them alight to provide illumination in his garden at night! Who played the lyre while Rome burned (there actually weren’t any fiddles back then)! Yes: I christen myself Nero, of Caesar’s house, last of that bloody line, and make of it what you will. Me, I just like the name.

Listen, dude, the fact that you name yourself after one of the most (if not, the most) infamous Roman emperors—who you agree is a monster—and is a part of a dynasty known for being a disastrous hot mess… that says a lot. But hey, the sons also have names (of course, chosen by Nero) connected to the classical era: Petya, aka Petronius, aka a courtier during Nero’s rule (hmm…); Apu, aka Lucius Apuleius, aka the guy behind the novel, The Golden Ass (HMM…); and D, aka Dionysus, aka the beloved drunken god of the Greeks/Romans, aka involved in an array of myths including Hermaphroditus (HMMMM… by the way, I’ll get to why I’m HMM-ing this soon enough). I also assume that D was deliberately not named Bacchus to separate him from his older brothers, due to having a different mother. Oh by the way, they’re all fluent in Greek and Latin. Because why wouldn’t you be? But hey, while we’re still on the topic, the fact that dear Nero Golden named himself after the “last of that bloody line” also alludes to the crash and fall of the Golden family that they will have to face; the rise and fall of empires.

That said, as you’ve noticed with the extensive allusions to history/myth/etc., you’re going to see dozens of moments where Rushdie is going to show off, dropping: names of films, names in general, a slew of pop culture, obscure references to literature, obviously everything Ancient Roman/Greek, etc. Why? I really couldn’t tell you. Sometimes, they’re just… lists with no particular meaning, unless you want to sit around for the next several hours analyzing every bit of that. Except that would not only be excessive, but also a fruitless endeavor since it’s highly likely that there isn’t really any meaning to them. There’s almost an intense wish for these things to relate, but at the end of the day, no. Just… no.

Going to Dionysus, or D, I point him out in particular due to the fact that it’s not all that common to find a character dealing with major gender dysphoria thrown into novels like Rushdie’s. I did find Rushdie’s approach to this a bit odd; it felt that he didn’t entirely understand it and decided to analyze it while giving a bit of an Attenborough analysis, for a lack of a better description. It’s further emphasized when you realize that this is also done through D’s romantic partner, Riya. Through her, Rushdie seems to emphasize this wonder of how gender is a societal construct, almost as though he’s trying to comment on what these damn Millennials are saying these days… Oh, he also does this a lot for other #JustMillennialThings.

Whatever the case, I was most invested in D’s story, even if the execution was a bit off-putting at times. I actually found that his struggle with identity was the only thing that gave this novel the bare minimum of a foundation. After all, identity is a significant theme throughout the story for all of these characters (fake or not).

Then we have The Golden House’s version of Nick Carraway, an amateur filmmaker by the name of René Unterlinden (with parents as professors who also seem very adamant to boast about their Belgian heritage— God even knows what’s happening there). He’s seemingly level-headed at first, but perhaps unsurprisingly, goes from an observant of the Golden family for his film-in-making on the family to a participant in said family’s drama… in the stupidest way possible. Oh, René, you fucking fool.

Besides the predicaments of our idiotic narrator (seriously, you could have saved us so many pages), there is also the fact that René’s purpose is pretty much Rushdie’s need to ramble about… well, pretty much everything that’s happened between the Obama era and… err, essentially now (or rather, the time of this book’s publication, 2017). I can’t really even call it sociopolitical commentary.

I think my undergrad English advisor described The Golden House pretty well: “Rushdie really doesn’t care what he’s churning out at this point since he’s probably realized that he’s never going to win the Nobel.” (Ouch.) Can’t really comment on the latter part, but I think she does have a point about the fact that he doesn’t seem to care what it is that he’s writing about. There isn’t any structure in this novel; you get random bursts of bombastic absurdity (especially towards the end of Part 2) to hopefully take the readers’ mind off of the fact that nothing happens. And who knows, maybe you can read into that and say this is, in some ways, a commentary on the obscenity of the wealthy or whatever; that’s a stretch.

I wouldn’t necessarily say that the book was a terrible read. It’s just a lot of inconsequential tangents that can get exhausting after a while. It was engaging in the sense that there was a lot of top-notch drama, but otherwise, it just feels like Rushdie is showing off everything he knows, not really giving us anything substantial, and only wrote this to take jabs at the American political climate through the most absurd characters.

So yeah, take that as you will. And if you’ve never read Rushdie’s works before, for the love of all things holy, do not start with this book.

[2bstudioblog]

Paranoia can be your friend...

Another possible big time collaboration I thought I had it within reach. A nice guy with a long history, performing with the very best, same as the other guy I ran into over 2 years ago. But there was something off from the get go.

He told me he had been following me and my process on Facebook for the last 8 months until he felt he would be willing to start interacting with me. He didn’t want to get burned like the other guy did it to him for reasons I don’t know. But he was pretty much up-front with me telling me directly that he has Asperger’s and a mild-case of autism.

He wanted to be in charge. He wanted me to make sacrifices if I want to continue my career. I said, whatever pays me, I’m still gonna do it. It’s all down to our schedules. He said he’d be OK with that but he’d be extremely jealous because of his Asperger’s. We decided a day to meet and our first meeting went extremely well, even though he came right out of the gate telling me: - “If I don’t hear anything interesting out of your mouth in the next 20 minutes, I’m leaving.”

We kept talking for 2 hours, so I must have made an impression. But little did I know at the time that right in front of me was a man, past his prime, telling me stories about the famous people he performed with, he was a protege for Miles Davis and Al Jarreau. His rivalry with Marcus Miller, witnessing first hand Miles robbing off drug-dealers. All fascinating stuff, but I do know that somehow this would scar somebody’s psyche in one way or the other.

He had made up his mind already on the spot, but I hadn’t just yet, but out of the blue comes two people, listening in to our music production/philosophy talks and asked us the following and he went head-first calling me and him partners… (We hadn’t done anything together yet at this point.) I think the Asperger’s was in control from this moment on. Impulse, not thinking 3 steps ahead, but at the moment it just felt alright.

He was laughing and having a good time, but now looking back on it, I realized that right in front of me was a man medicating on alcohol, hidden in a plastic bag. I didn’t take that into consideration because I want to think the best of everyone I meet at a first glance, but again, my eyes deceived me at this point. I didn’t see this until I started to recap about the 2nd time I met him at the party where alcohol was a plenty and his wife was a little bit “off”, almost worried that something bad might happen at the place. It all started to make sense just 2 days later.

The young couple who’d introduced themselves as musicians to us outside the Starbucks that day, had just had 2 meetings with him out in public after I had departed. I received a phone-call from this man telling me he forgot to put me into the loop and his WIFE had to remind him if I was part of the team, he should call me. He told me he had a successful meeting with the couple the day prior and this day he was gonna help them setup a music-computer so they could start sketching on song ideas that he wants us to produce. AGAIN, I hadn’t signed any contract or paper. He was not interested to know my side or what I wanted to do. The only thing we had in common was our shared philosophy about music.

The very same evening I get a video-call from the couple on their way home, telling me they were scared for their lives after being to his apartment for a 3-4 hour session of setting up the computer, but when they found out his personality changed, they freaked out, walked home and called me up directly. I honestly told them that THEY knew him better than I ever had. This was my warning that this collaboration wouldn’t last. If HE screws up and scares off clients, this would look really bad for me as well. Plus they told me that their meeting the previous day ended up with him crying in a restaurant. Plus he didn’t want to get paid in cash, but with alcohol. Already here, I felt deceived by this man. A man who preach about keeping focus, losing his own fucking shit.

After a long talk with my significant other we came to the conclusion, I lined up all the information I got about this man, asked previous people who had been involved with him, the answer was always the same: - Stay away from him. He’s living in the past and can’t let go. The only thing that keeps him away from advancing is that he’s trying to find his meal-ticket out and let someone else to the heavy lifting for him. Why we (everyone I talked to gave the same answer basically) aren’t performing with him is because besides that he IS an AMAZING bass-player, he is unhinged, ready to explode and break instruments on stage. (This explains why he told me he doesn’t go out performing anymore, but that is still part of my nature. I’m not giving that up.)

From that moment on, I was set that if there is more I can do with music, producing, writing, composing, playing, performing, recording, I’m not gonna give up all those skills just to satisfy one man who can basically blacklist me from all future work in this amazing country of Japan I call my home through bad faith and actions connecting all the way back to me. It would be really bad. It was not worth it and I let my wife send a message to his wife so she could break it to him. I really wanted to tell it to his face, but since I wasn’t sure how bad his mood-swings could be, it’s probably better that someone who knows how to talk to him could break the news for him.

The next week that follows was bad comments on my videos from him online on my Facebook account, telling me my career was gone and frozen in hell. That I would never advance beyond his abilities. For me, the reason is that I don’t look at music as a game. It was never competition for me. And this is where our philosophies breaks, and I say it again. He want other people I work with feel jealous that I’ll be working for him. EXCLUSIVELY. I can’t do that. I want to have many workers as possible. I don’t have friends (His words and mine), but I’m not gonna cut off the people that have helped me so far for one selfish man. He says he has connections back in L.A, connections with the people arranging the Tokyo Olympics. Those are all big words, but no shred of evidence. But what is to be believed by the people who have worked with him, it’s probably true.

Older doesn’t always mean wiser. If you made many mistakes and never learned from them, you’ll never advance to the next level. If you never see yourself understanding you’re making mistakes, you’re to blind to see your own faults and cannot advance. If you continue repeating the same mistakes without correcting yourself, giving yourself instant feedback to become better, you are fighting a losing battle without an end. I’ve made many mistakes. Things I didn’t understand back then has become very clear to me now. I’m probably more Japanese now than I was since coming here from Sweden. Certain times, paranoia can be your friend.

[surviving-guilt]

Checks and Balances

Many are keen on accepting the notion that the abused carry the abusers. This is what we call a revolving door.

They would also argue that the indifference of man is just as evil as evil men are by their actions.

If your friend texts you they’re going to kill someone and 10 minutes later does it, are you evil for not stopping them? Most people would say no.

If you and your friend are in a room with someone else, and they tell you they’re about to shoot the other person and 10 seconds later they do, are you evil for not stopping them? A little more wishy washy, but most people would tell you there was nothing you could do.

What if you were in the car with them, they parked in front of an ex’s house, and told you they were going to run them over the moment they walk out of the house? The ex opens the door, your friend whips around the block to gain speed and momentum, it takes about a minute and a half to make it around the block, you see the ex walk into the street, you see the impact coming and it happens. Are you evil for not grabbing the wheel at any point? For not texting someone or calling the authorities when it was still being premeditated? For not getting out of the car when you had the chance? The courts would decide if you were an accomplice or not, but would you be evil for your inaction? Whether you tried to talk them out of it or not?  -- If you say yes, why aren’t you equally as evil for the first example with the text? Why not for the second. People act as though “evil” and “immoral” are synonymous, they like to pretend all things are circumstantial, but that is truly a conclusion that people make up within their own minds. I will start my point here by saying on the conversation of “good” vs. “evil” there is no gray, it truly is black and white; it is light vs. darkness, or light vs. the lack there of. 

I say this because “morals” are man-made and vary culturally, therefore, in the grand scheme of mammal existence, morals do not exist. I know this because my dog does not know I’m an asshole for calling women bitches, but it does know if someone or something malicious or evil is present. Quick word of advice -- if your dog is usually nice to most humans and literally hates someone that walks in one day and you don’t know why, take the hint. Your dog will know to run away because of an earth quake or tsunami before you will, and it will know evil and toxic people before you realize it. Trust your dog. Anyhow, no one would argue that walking passed someone drowning a child in a pool or lake and not doing or saying anything makes you a fucked up person, but everyone has this confused fucked up conversation about what if that child was Hitler? Would a strict Catholic, against homosexuality and abortion, still believe in the purity of that fetus if it was born gay? Where are these invisible lines we draw in our heads and when is something gray and not black and white? I ask all these conflicting questions as someone who believes very little in circumstantial exclusions and gray areas. For example, many people recognize “high functioning” people on the Autism spectrum and that have asperger’s as having extraordinary talents despite their “disorder” but would look at someone who is schizophrenic as having a simply negative disorder. I do not. I feel all mental disorder, both naturally occuring and developed through physical or mental trauma, is both an affliction and a potentially powerful adaptation and expansion of mental ability and/or capacity. This is not to say that this is true at face value. I am sociopathic, have bipolar disorder including BPD, seasonal depression on top of Bipolar, PTSD, severe ADHD, and go through bouts of anxiety at different points in my life depending on where I am, it’s a living hell, i know. But surviving it and battling it head-on when it’s easier to run away long enough to learn ways to manage it and cultivate the “positive” symptoms along with the bad ones has left me more capable than I was before these disorders overtook my entire life. I am in no way saying that ALL people with mental disorders are better for having them, not at all actually. At their worst, these disorders are so debilitating that they kill who they afflict, or rob them of the ability to lead a successful functional life, or even form basic human relationships, and these examples are what most of society uses as their basis for their impression of mental illness in general. When you hear the term “sociopath” the images that come to mind may be serial killers, child abusers, animal abusers, or generally evil people, but I’m sure your first thought isn’t “Owner of a Fortune 500 company.” As i’m sure when you hear “Autistic child” you don’t immediately imagine tech geniuses that are the best in data analysts, developing algorithms to make for better technology, or catching hackers and predators by sorting metadata for big companies and the government.  I’m also sure you hear schizophrenia and think that someone should be in a jacket or heavily medicated and a danger to society, but have never thought that you may have met a very high fuctioning schizophrenic who goes untreated and you just think of them as nice and quirky. Someone you may know with dissociation may come off as selfish and forgetful and insensitive or overly sensitive, but I’m sure you wouldn’t think that in the time of complete crisis, they may be the sanest, most calm and rational person in the room capable of leading everyone to safety rather than being in complete panic, now would you? Someone with OCD may come off as an anal, controlling, selfish, narcissistic, and sometimes condescending prick, but they’ll know where the exits in the room are, when someone may trip in front of you due to an untied shoe, exactly how much time until the next bus, etc. Someone suffering from severe anxiety that has learned to manage it may actually know better than you when something is worth freaking out about, because they focus so hard on reasoning and not letting irrational fears and feelings overtake, that when they finally do let themselves freak out, just like my dog hating someone, it IS time to listen and freak out. People often mistake ADHD as the inability to concentrate, but often time the issue is that they are focused on TOO MANY things at once and don’t have the energy to fix any one thing because they’re experiencing more of the world at once than you can fathom without drugs. Most people don’t believe that in any given moment, I can be listening to you speak, have music on, have a completely different song playing in my head, while thinking about the past and wondering about the future on two different trains of thought going in different directions, and texting someone all at the same time while still actively listening and responding to whomever I’m speaking to with no issue. My ADHD is an issue when I have to sit in a quiet room and accomplish one task, too little stimulus is my downfall, not too much. My last example is those with emotional disconnection issues, be it from PTSD, sociopathy, autism, anxiety, or a variety of other potential factors. They may find it hard to care, like, and especially love, and may come off as “cold” and incapable of sympathy, empathy, or tenderness beyond simple introductory kindness, but believe me when I tell you that when they DO care, when they DO love, when they do form a bond, no one you ever meet will care more, love harder, and try with everything inside them than they will. Saying “I love you” less DOES make it more valuable when it is said. 

So with all this said, when is the last time you had an argument with yourself? Who won? Did that seem like a stupid question? You see, people think that symptoms of disorders are exclusive to those WITH disorders, but you see people every day who exhibit the same behaviors as people like me. How many times have you caught yourself purposely not stepping on cracks in the sidewalk? Do you think your have OCD for that? Do you get sad and not want to go outside or leave your bed when there’s bad weather? Do you think you suffer from major depression for that? Does a similar sound, smell, or image that reminds you of an old bad memory make you cringe or feel bad? Do you think you have PTSD for that? More than often, the case is no with all these questions, but you exhibit symptoms without having the rest. So if someone with bipolar disorder learns how to manage their bad symptoms, but allows themselves to exhibit the more practical or useful symptoms, such as high energy and drive during a manic phase, are they not using their disorder as a beneficial tool or way to get ahead without suffering fully from the full negative symptoms of the disorder? Is this wrong? Or an unnatural leg up? Is it wrong to exploit a disorder for a benefit? You may think it’s circumstantial, but I simply do not. One can take advantage of manic symptoms to simply gain, such as being able to go to school, go to work, hang out, party, have the confidence to get with someone and do school work all in one day with little sleep, yes. But what if someone was just coming out of their major depressive episode, finals are coming up, work is at it’s busiest, their friends need them for help through a tough time, and they’re having personal issues at home? Is tapping into the manic energy, drive, and full-on go mode to not collapse under the pressure they’re undergoing considered taking advantage? I would think not. Now let’s revisit our more extreme examples from the beginning. Someone has a dissociative personality disorder, or “split personalities”, they are both you and your friend in the example about killing someone. Part of them fears the other part doing something they consider evil such as murder, does the part that doesn’t reach out or do something about it get the same judgement the part that carries out the act does? Is not stopping a death  you can evil? Yes. But what if your reason is because there is so much stigma against the mentally ill that the absolute fear of being attacked, detained, misunderstood, or not listened to is what causes your silence? If you tell someone you get institutionalized and labeled a danger, if you don’t you commit the act and are looked at as evil over ill, and you can’t just walk faster past it because both people are inside you. This is the torment that leads us to kill ourselves out of fear for not stopping ourselves from the pain we can cause because we’re afraid to reach out for help. But now, what if one personality is a sociopath and the other is human as can be, and just anxious? What if that sociopath is smart and instinctual enough to catch on to the fact that someone is evil, maybe about to go runover their girlfriend and kill her? It wants to do the right thing because the other personality cares about morals and it sees evil. The sociopath recognizes evil, and realizes he can’t reach out for help because he’s labeled as mentally ill, therefore not credible and “damaged” so he decided to drown the person who is going to kill his ex. You, a neurotypical person, walk past him drowning the would be murderer, and choose to keep walking. Putting all morals to the side, who was evil?  The stigmas we have towards the mentally ill not only cause them to suffer directly, but it blinds us to the great potential those who have mental illness have and how they can do such greater things in society BECAUSE of their disorder, and we shut them out instead of letting them in out of fear for what they may do, instead of letting them in out of excitement for what they may do. That same person struggling with an inner sociopathic personality may be a huge asset to law enforcement, but won’t be allowed to be because they would fail a psych eval.  The point of this post is that if we were more supportive of those with mental disorders CULTIVATING and managing their symptoms to their benefit, rather than suppressing ALL symptoms with stigmas, shame, and medication, we could be a lot further along on our progress as a society instead of muting the great minds that could better us all. We create the serial killers and “psychopaths” of the world by forcing them to have to run away from themselves based on the potential of the damage they can do rather than the potential of the great they can do with self discipline, self awareness, and joined management with professionals that can give them the tools to use their disorders for good rather than suppress what makes them who they are. For some, we are not defined by our disorders, but in some cases we ARE our disorders, and suppressing that makes us less human than you think we are with them. Abusing us makes us the abusers when we give up on trying to get help, and for many the ones we abuse are ourselves to dangerous and even fatal extents.

The biggest thing I want to stress is not looking at someone with connection issues or sociopathic tendencies as a serial killer or societal reject, because when we learn to put our resentment for not feeling things the same as others aside, we rely on our instinct and we’re much closer to recognizing evil the way your dog does than you are, and our trouble grasping “moral” vs “immoral” doesn’t mean we can’t teach ourselves right and wrong if you let us try to learn more about ourselves other than “YOU’RE BAD.” All of this is food for thought, and me realizing what I wish I did years ago, I’m not as bad as I think I am, and I’m not as bad as I can be, and most importantly, not letting myself be as bad as I can be makes me good. It is okay that the only opinion of me I care about it my own, because it is me that has to learn how to live as me, manage me, and control myself for better or worse. Not accepting help is okay, taking a step back and saying “i need this time to figure me out” is okay, and warning people that you’re afraid of not responding well in certain situations or doing something others would find wrong is okay if you recognize something and say or do something about it.

It is okay to be ill and not suppress yourself if you learn to cultivate the good. I am not handicapped, in fact, I’m one of the most capable people I know. Self improvement is not selfish. I may never love myself, but I can appreciate the good parts in all the bad, and that’s huge. FUCK YOUR STIGMA, BE YOUR OWN BIGGEST FAN AND CRITIC, AND BE WHAT YOU GOTTA BE EVEN IF ITS IMMORAL AS LONG AS ITS GOOD.

Congrats if you read this.  

Thoughts?

[thefosteringworld]

Alright so alot of things have happened in the last month. 

Baby H’s hearing didn’t happen due to technical difficulties sadly. It was quite frustrating but we are hopefully that we will get that worked out soon! We have also had other big things happen. She was officially assigned an adoption worker about 2 weeks ago! This is really helping things move along a bit faster because they aren’t waiting for the judge to get started. So this is basically a headstart (which is rare). On the downside, we took baby H for her 2 month appointment last week, and she is already showing signs of following behind developing. :( 

Currently, she isn’t able to track with her eyes. They have sent us out for a referral to get her eyes examined to see if she has an issue physically. If not, it will be listed as a developmental delay. Which we definitely knew was possible because of her drug exposure. 

Fun spot * We have decided on a name if we are able to adopt. We would rename her to Amanda Dean. Amanda for my best friend and my daughter’s god mother, and Dean for the absolute best Nana the world could ask for. Shhhh. It’s a secret. 

On to Baby T, who really isn’t a baby anymore. She is almost 18 months! The last two weeks have frankly been the roller coaster of a lifetime. They started leaning towards adoption and then all the sudden they are ready to send her home. The struggle is that at this time, the parents have completed their “paper” treatment plan. The legal hoops. BUT, have had next to no involvement with their daughter for the almost year that she has been in care. At this point, these folks are strangers which makes reunification a gut wrenching feeling. I won’t lie, Baby T feels like she has been apart of our family for forever. Let’s face it, at a year, you forget what things were like before they came along. It’s been the most difficult thing to grapple with. The real possibility of having to say Good Bye forever. 

She had her perm. hearing today. We spent 2 hours writing a statement for the judge to not allow us to speak. With a house filled with kids, i was less than happy to say the least. Her case has been extended another 60 days. This allows the parents to complete additional therapy requirements. The only way that adoption really happens in this case is if something goes absolutely upside down and i’m really just not sure what will happen anymore. This case has honestly broken my faith in the system. The parents have done their homework but they haven’t done anything with the child and for us to just turn a blind eye to that, seems wrong. It is wrong. It is behind the feeling of dissatisfying to know that because they did the paperwork, there isn’t a problem with them missing every other visit. The main reason that this really burns me is because of how many weekly appointments this child has. We are talking 4-5 appointments WEEKLY. They have also now but Autism on the table officially. 

talk about a week. The doctors think one child may be blind and the other to be autistic. But we survived. 

Sir M! He was finally approved to be upgraded to a therapeutic home and was actually able to move to his sister. (which is even more rare). I have kept in touch with the foster family and they say he is doing very well! We are so happy for his progress. 

We also decided to start accepting emergency placements and we got our first ones over this weekend. TEENAGERS AT THAT. They were our first ever teens and boy were they well-behaved! We always expected hell on wheels and we got two sisters who were quieter than a mouse! It has definitely opened our eyes that we may be able to help more kids.  This did however push us to FIVE kids for the weekend which was ... interesting to say the least. We are still so happy that we could open our doors and allow children of all walks of life into our home. Overall, that is what it is all about.

I have also started volunteering with Closet of Hope pretty heavily. AKA it all moved to my house. I have been organizing volunteer events and fundraisers while also sorting clothes and meeting tons of foster families. The work this organization does is truly unbelievable. We really see the impact. I was actually on the news today for it. My whole 15 secs (literally). But it is all about working towards a goal that needs to be met. 

I also really got to thinking about group homes. I decided that I think this is something I will do whenever Audrey is older. Seeing these teenagers this weekend, who no one wanted to open their door too. It really broke my heart. Everyone was so quick to turn their nose up and frankly, its wrong. I can admit that I have been there myself. But I have learned to accept all people and just hope for the best possible outcome. 

More updates to come in the future! 

[coridae]

The Ugly Truth About Impossible Meat

#impossibleburger #vegan #processed #capitalism

You might be thinking ‘but its so healthy you fucking meat eater’ except that it isn’t. The Vegan thing, I get that and I mostly eat that way because its cheaper, however you are missing the point on what Veganism is.

It’s no secret that it is a thing that eschews processed food, meat and animal products altogether. It sounds great and it is healthy, but it has given rise to a lot of things that isn’t great as people try to make money off this trend.

Pleather and other ‘faux leather’ is a substance made of plastic that doesn’t last as long as real, cared for, leather and can’t even really be recycled. Most of the time it looks cheap and tacky and its really bad for the environment that they tote to be trying to save by less animal use. The underlying issue is not that eating animals is bad, its the excess to which we do so that is killing the planet. Veganism isn’t a bad thing, if you look to the core which is healthy moderation. Something the Ye Old Ones and their like minded fools want to farm us for cash.

The impossible meat trend. This is the meat of my two examples and the reason why I am posting at all. Processed foods and high amount of sugar is what is killing us. The end of the last world war saw production of cheap and mass produced foods that subsequently make heath care, dental work and everything under those umbrellas the hell it is now. They made it possible for fast food to become as cheap and readily available as it is now and, if you look back, you can see this too is the start of the global unhealth we all have now.

That isn’t to say people didn’t get the sicknesses we have now, but in an age where we have better medical treatments and drugs to fight these you’d think it would be better. Uh, no.

Because we are what we eat. And what they ate, what our parents ate and now what we in turn are eating has a generational effect that is crippling us. Want cheaper healthcare? Stop eating too much processed anything. Except that no one has the ability to spend the time on cooking healthy because life ain’t that idealistic heyday of our grandparents.

People tout the family dynamic is over, that people have no respect for the sanctity of marriage and family. People don’t have time for that now, people don’t even have the money anymore either. And guess whose fault that is?

So in comes this great new trend of making ultra processed meat free crap that is supposed to look and taste like meat, but isn’t. While you sit there eating that shit food, do you wonder how it is made? Look it up. Look at all the chemicals and loaded crap that is in those things and then tell me that you are eating healthy. Look at that big price tag, the waste, the loaded amount of garbage that is that meal and tell me you aren’t chasing the same problems again.

It’s just another thing to get people to buy something they don’t need in an attempt to make people think things are healthy. We are healthy, it is just what we eat and how much of the FDA approved TRASH we are eating makes all of us sick. And then comes another fucking trend that pisses me off.

Eat healthy and you can cure your Autism.

Excuse me? What? Yes, there is a lot of research that is touted around about how your gut controls your brain. Everyone already knew this. We just have people getting paid money to find out more. The problem is, food of any type won’t change how I fundamentally am. No trips out to Mongolia on a horse will change me into some neuro-typical superstar to be some person to cry about being cheered like I had leprosy. I am autistic and I will always be so and I am in no need of a fucking cure.

What I need is less sugar and processed foods and cheaper fruits, veggies, nuts, seeds and the occasional chunk of yummy meat. What I need is less cars zooming around clogging the air and people who out mass the fucking retards making life hell to actually realize we out number those fools and make a press for proper, greener and healthier change to my food and the god damned planet.

Go ahead, make memes and do your thing, but do something! Because we are being farmed by ‘our betters’ and it needs to stop or we will die and wanna know what is hilarious? The damned impossible burger has a longer expiration date than we do when it comes to our lives on this shelf. Isn’t that crazy? Processed food literally will be some of the last things to turn to dust when our wonderful floating bean that is our home, eats us because we made Nature become our enemy.

I might just decide after this next election to try my hand in running for president. Because literally, anyone who is thirty five, can do so as long as they are legally a citizen of the US. The only reason people don’t is guess what, because of the very people responsible for the shit show that is our lives now.

[vincejonesuniverse]

I was born in 1955. Way back then there were basically 3 types of “kids”: just the regular let’s play hide-an-seek, build a fort, throw rocks, ride bikes, ring doorbells and run, make random calls and ask if “Ben Dover” was home (caller ID ruined that), get muddy, mercurochromed bloody knees and elbows, be home by dinner time kind. Then there were the “weird” kids. Now, this class broke down into the “weird” in an eccentric kinda way which made you kinda cool and then there were the “stay away from little Johnny” kinda weird which wasn’t so good, and everybody had at least one friend who fit the former and knew one of the latter. Today the latter generally hold elective office or work at the DMV.

Finally, there were the “special” kids (special being the term used in polite company). Now, I know a lot about this class, for you see, I’m a member. As a child I struggled to “fit in,” be “just one of the kids” and I lived in terror (strong word but completely accurate) of the “short bus” which transported them to school and home again. My generation pretty much walked to and from school. The only time a parent picked up their child was if they were injured beyond the school nurse’s ability to patch them up or they were sick, projectile vomiting kinda sick or did something REALLY BAD, like invade Poland. So, every day when the short bus would pass me, twice, I would freeze up inside, deathly afraid of being found out. I was seven when I first began considering suicide.

I was adopted at six weeks of age and unbeknownst to my new parents, I was “special” as well as being a sickly child; my heart stopping more than once before I was 9. As a result, my father felt cheated out of the son he envisioned having, and though I supposed he tried, it was abundantly clear he would have traded me in for a different model if given the chance. Mom was Mom. I could have been on death row, guilty as sin, and she would have been there patting me on the arm saying, “its OK honey, the Governor will call since I know in my heart you are a good boy.” But I couldn’t talk her or anyone about what I was feeling and experiencing, hell, I couldn’t even put it into words for myself.

I didn’t know why I was different, but it was clear I was. I would watch the interactions of my playmates, confounded as to the ways they related and responded to each other, and they did it so effortlessly. I’d hang in the background, try to be a part of without really being noticed, especially for the wrong reasons. And I watched a lot of TV looking for clues.

I had a hard time making and keeping eye contact and would often look off to the side when talking to someone. I would say “inappropriate” things (not like bad language or such, well, OK, sometimes, my mind just makes connections which make perfect sense to me, others, not so much) and had no clue as to why they were inappropriate. I would get that hated scrunched up nose narrowed eyed “say what” look and know I had somehow messed up.

In the early 60’s IQ tests were the rage. When the sealed envelopes with the results were handed out in my class, everyone got a white envelope, well almost everyone, mine was manila in color. That day’s walk home was filled with thoughts of suicide and ways to do it because I knew this was it. I left the envelope on the kitchen table (the thought never crossed my mind to disappear it) and waited in my room resigned to my fate. When Mom opened it all it said was the school wanted them to make an appointment to come in for a conference. My Dad was pissed (yep, that is the word he used) because he would have to take off work and was sure I had done something I was covering up. I maintained ignorance, thankful for the reprieve, dreading what I thought I KNEW was coming. The day came and I attended the meeting with the Vice-Principal as well. They were told I was, wait for it, ABNORMALLY intelligent. I don’t know what else was said after that, for I had shut down and blanked out. It was in the car driving home when I came back around to my father saying, “that was a huge waste of time.” I waited for “the” talk I had been dreading, but it never materialized. I went to school the next day as if nothing had happened and it was never brought up again. I really don’t know why they had my parents come in, this was before GATE or programs for gifted students existed, I think they were just as perplexed at what to do with me as I was.

At a very early age I decided the best course of action was to try to “fit in,” so I dedicated myself to mimicry. I would surreptitiously watch you: your facial expressions, the tone of your voice, the words you chose, how others reacted to you and how you reciprocated. And I practiced and practiced. You know how people say they have done something a “thousand” times? From that point (around 7) through High School I spent thousands of hours in front of the bathroom mirror rehearsing the things that came so naturally to you, until it became second nature. I taught myself to “fit in,” to act as if, even though I didn’t understand the underlying why’s.

And life went on. I looked at what generally qualified as “normal” (not surprisingly a lot of that came from TV) and started checking off the boxes. In time my fear of being “found out” diminished, but I was still a little “weird” which was kinda OK in High School. I played sports, got a girlfriend (relationships took my acting to a whole new level, and I still sucked at them), had a small circle of friends and was bored out of my mind. I drove my teachers to distraction by rarely turning in homework but acing tests. My poor mother on numerous occasions had to fight with instructors to pass me. I wouldn’t have graduated High School if not for her. She was 5’1 & ¾" as she would often proudly state and maybe 110 pounds soaking wet. One her favorite momisims was “dynamite and poison come in small packages,” she was a force to be reckoned with.

What really made High School tolerable though were the drugs and alcohol. See, if you were loaded or drunk you were expected to say and do inappropriate things. It would be forgiven with the blanket, “oh, he is just f#%ked up.” Talk about a get out of jail free card. As you can well imagine, drugs and alcohol became constant companions and close personal friends. Time passed and I kept checking off boxes: I got married (poor girl), bought a house, became a father and had the beginnings of a career in business management, because that is what “normal” life looked like, right? Things were good, at least I thought so, right up until they weren’t. My reliance on intoxicants turned on me and I ended up out of control, alone, broke, in dire straits physically and mentally. Then at 30 years of age I sought help and have been free of active addiction since 1985.

When I first I entered the community of recovery I was amazed. They talked about secrets and being “the actor,” of hidden feelings and motivations, lies and destructive behaviors. I felt like I was home at last and I let my guard down a little. Though I am still a part of this community, this feeling lasted only a couple of years until I had to face the truth, though I had much in common, I was still “special” and proceeded to work to “fit in” once again.

You see, I’m Autistic and all that implies. Hyper focus, given to routine, poor socialization skills, difficulty in forming and maintaining relationships, the whole eye contact thing (I have been practicing that for over 55 years and I still get it wrong) and so on. I am “high functioning” with (if you believe the tests) a high IQ. Sounds good, but to me it’s like being the car in the junkyard with the best paint job and good tires. I know, I know, just stop it. You must admit though it is a pretty good line. Shhh…just between you and me, the whole IQ testing thing, today I am pretty sure all it really denotes is someone who takes IQ tests well. Just sayin.

There used to be a thing called Asperger Syndrome, which pretty much described me. It is not a thing anymore though, which kinda sucks cause Asperger sounds like you’re having a burger made from snake and only real men eat snake burgers, I could see John Wayne or Errol Flynn eating a snake burger and liking it (remember, born in 55).

It wasn’t until President Kennedy came to office that the approach to mental health and how we address and work with children who are “special” began to change. In the ensuing decades a new world of resources and understanding has emerged, and had I been born a decade or so later, my life probably would have had a very different trajectory.

There are myriad of ways we can be defined, if we allow it. I am not DISabled; I am just other abled. I see the world through a prism of colors, sounds and textures different than you, not a good thing or a bad thing, it just is what it is. On the upside, having studied people’s expressions (micro and macro), vocal inflections, body language, etc. since I was a small child, I have an uncanny ability for “reading” people and predicting behavior, especially those who suffer from addiction.

Today, maybe it has to do with getting older, but I don’t care anymore about “fitting in,” I want to spend the rest of my days free of the fear-based restrictions I placed on myself and be honest. I met a young man recently who was Autistic, I asked him how he was coping with life and fitting in. You know what he said? “Screw’em. If they don’t like me for who I am, I don’t want them in my life.” I cried.

We all have gifts and talents, are part of the grand fabric of life, the tapestry of colors truly a wonder. All here to teach and be taught, no one without or lacking value. Today I see the world through a new pair of glasses and though the music in my mind is somewhat different from yours, it is all part of the great symphony, every note of value, even those off key for they provide the impetus for change and growth. The key is, and always has been, love, and from love acceptance and respect.

So, if we ever meet in the “real” world, whatever that is, I may say something a little off key or be a little too blunt, but don’t take it personally. Oh, and I am told I can be a little intense so there is that. It is just me, being me, no longer in hiding, and chances are excellent I will probably say something that will make you laugh and though I don’t own a 1949 Buick Roadmaster convertible I am an excellent driver.

[autismride]

Epilepsy Day 2017

In honor of Epilepsy Day (which was yesterday) - I decided to share a seizure journal/timeline I've been keeping.

The first seizure.  June 1, 2016. It happened.  It was a typical weekday evening.  We ate dinner.  After dinner, Todd sat on the love seat in the living room playing with his iPad, as usual.  My husband said, “look at him!”  He looked a bit gray in the face and “out of it.”  He made a few what seemed like heaving movements, so at first I thought he was going to throw up.  No.  Eyes rolled back, a gag, then foam at the mouth.  No shaking, but his little arms kept reaching out in a jerky rhythm.  I called 911.  The dispatcher stayed on the phone with me until the paramedics arrived.  She told us to put him on his left side.  Thankfully we live in a quiet suburb and the fire station is around the corner 4 paramedics and 2 fireman were at our door in about 2 minutes.  He was purple and not breathing when the medics arrived.  We went to the hospital.  They started an IV in the ambulance.  This was a sign that he was not well – usually he fights like hell if you try to brush his teeth or wash his hair, much less start an IV.  I went with him in the ambulance.  My husband and other ASD son followed in my husband’s car.  Back to his usual self within 12 hours.

The second seizure.  August 22, 2016.  Same time of day, dinnertime.  He was happily playing with his Kindle while I finished making dinner.  I heard a thump as he hit the floor.  I thought maybe he tripped on something.  Went over to him – his face twisted, fists clenched and his arms started moving in odd angles and arcs-slow motion.  Then the rolled back eyes and drool.  Not again!  This time it lasted over 3 minutes.  Since we knew what was happening this time, we didn’t call 911, but called the neurologist and had the doctor on call paged.  We were told she could see him in two days.  Should I be comforted that it could wait that long?  I mentioned we were leaving for Disney on Saturday and would like some sort of game plan if something happened while we were away – meds?  She said yes to meds.  I pray for no side effects and a quick acclimation to the drug(s) – is that what happens?  I want him to enjoy his trip to Disney.  The poor kid has been through enough, I want him to at least enjoy his vacation. 

Then comes the guilt – the family member who says, “you didn’t call 911?”  The wonderful sitter who blames himself for maybe tiring him out with a really fun day.  No, can’t be.

He started anti-seizure meds in late August, the day before we left on a family Disney trip.  Since it was so new, we didn’t know how he’d react – aside from sleeping for a few hours on a bench at the Magic Kingdom [with us taking turns taking our other son on rides], as well as sleeping through a good portion of Finding Nemo the Musical at Animal Kingdom, he had a great time.

He had subsequent seizures on September 13, 19 (at school), and 26.  On October 25th, he had a six-minute seizure at school and they had to call 911.

He had one while trick or treating on Halloween.  Poor kid couldn’t even enjoy that.

Two more on December 3 and 19.  At this point, the neurologist has ordered an MRI of the brain.  She said there’s “no way” he should still be having seizures because of his medicine. 

January 1st, Happy New Year, he had a seizure. 

January 3rd and we were still waiting for the pediatrician’s office to enter the MRI order into the hospital’s database.  The neurologist was previously able to enter orders for other tests (EEG, CT) into the hospital database, but apparently MRI orders have to come from the pediatrician.  This comes at an unfortunate time when we are shopping for a new pediatrician’s office.  We like the pediatrician and nurses, but have had problems with the office staff – like, they completely lost my older son’s medical records from 2007 to date; random bills for things that were already paid for; and now, an MRI order of December 19th has yet to be entered on January 3rd.

Finally, the pediatrician’s office entered the “paperwork” into the hospital computer.  The MRI is scheduled for January 31st.

I got a call from the neurologist’s office today (Janaury 10th) asking if the MRI had been done yet.  Explained about the incredibly slow staff at the pediatrician’s office. Ugh.

I pray we get some answers soon.

January 27th – a 5-minute seizure at school.  They didn’t call the paramedics this time, but they had to give him oxygen.  Neurologist wants another EEG and changing meds.  Warned us that the new medication “has side effects.”  I Googled it and it has the usual side effects like dizziness and sleepiness, but other side effects such as suicidal depression and aggression.  How can I know if he’s depressed? 

Early February – the MRI and repeat EEG came back fine.  No reason for his epilepsy, just that it’s related to autism.  All we can do is continue with the meds and hope for the best.  Sigh.

[vincejonesuniverse]

I was born in 1955. Way back then there were basically 3 types of “kids”: just the regular let’s play hide-an-seek, build a fort, throw rocks, ride bikes, ring doorbells and run, make random calls and ask if “Ben Dover” was home (caller ID ruined that), get muddy, mercurochromed bloody knees and elbows, be home by dinner time kind. Then there were the “weird” kids. Now, this class broke down into the “weird” in an eccentric kinda way which made you kinda cool and then there were the “stay away from little Johnny” kinda weird which wasn’t so good, and everybody had at least one friend who fit the former and knew one of the latter. Today the latter generally hold elective office or work at the DMV.

Finally, there were the “special” kids (special being the term used in polite company). Now, I know a lot about this class, for you see, I’m a member. As a child I struggled to “fit in,” be “just one of the kids” and I lived in terror (strong word but completely accurate) of the “short bus” which transported them to school and home again. My generation pretty much walked to and from school. The only time a parent picked up their child was if they were injured beyond the school nurse’s ability to patch them up or they were sick, projectile vomiting kinda sick or did something REALLY BAD, like invade Poland. So, every day when the short bus would pass me, twice, I would freeze up inside, deathly afraid of being found out. I was seven when I first began considering suicide.

I was adopted at six weeks of age and unbeknownst to my new parents, I was “special” as well as being a sickly child; my heart stopping more than once before I was 9. As a result, my father felt cheated out of the son he envisioned having, and though I supposed he tried, it was abundantly clear he would have traded me in for a different model if given the chance. Mom was Mom. I could have been on death row, guilty as sin, and she would have been there patting me on the arm saying, “its OK honey, the Governor will call since I know in my heart you are a good boy.” But I couldn’t talk her or anyone about what I was feeling and experiencing, hell, I couldn’t even put it into words for myself.

I didn’t know why I was different, but it was clear I was. I would watch the interactions of my playmates, confounded as to the ways they related and responded to each other, and they did it so effortlessly. I’d hang in the background, try to be a part of without really being noticed, especially for the wrong reasons. And I watched a lot of TV looking for clues.

I had a hard time making and keeping eye contact and would often look off to the side when talking to someone. I would say “inappropriate” things (not like bad language or such, well, OK, sometimes, my mind just makes connections which make perfect sense to me, others, not so much) and had no clue as to why they were inappropriate. I would get that hated scrunched up nose narrowed eyed “say what” look and know I had somehow messed up.

In the early 60’s IQ tests were the rage. When the sealed envelopes with the results were handed out in my class, everyone got a white envelope, well almost everyone, mine was manila in color. That day’s walk home was filled with thoughts of suicide and ways to do it because I knew this was it. I left the envelope on the kitchen table (the thought never crossed my mind to disappear it) and waited in my room resigned to my fate. When Mom opened it all it said was the school wanted them to make an appointment to come in for a conference. My Dad was pissed (yep, that is the word he used) because he would have to take off work and was sure I had done something I was covering up. I maintained ignorance, thankful for the reprieve, dreading what I thought I KNEW was coming. The day came and I attended the meeting with the Vice-Principal as well. They were told I was, wait for it, ABNORMALLY intelligent. I don’t know what else was said after that, for I had shut down and blanked out. It was in the car driving home when I came back around to my father saying, “that was a huge waste of time.” I waited for “the” talk I had been dreading, but it never materialized. I went to school the next day as if nothing had happened and it was never brought up again. I really don’t know why they had my parents come in, this was before GATE or programs for gifted students existed, I think they were just as perplexed at what to do with me as I was.

At a very early age I decided the best course of action was to try to “fit in,” so I dedicated myself to mimicry. I would surreptitiously watch you: your facial expressions, the tone of your voice, the words you chose, how others reacted to you and how you reciprocated. And I practiced and practiced. You know how people say they have done something a “thousand” times? From that point (around 7) through High School I spent thousands of hours in front of the bathroom mirror rehearsing the things that came so naturally to you, until it became second nature. I taught myself to “fit in,” to act as if, even though I didn’t understand the underlying why’s.

And life went on. I looked at what generally qualified as “normal” (not surprisingly a lot of that came from TV) and started checking off the boxes. In time my fear of being “found out” diminished, but I was still a little “weird” which was kinda OK in High School. I played sports, got a girlfriend (relationships took my acting to a whole new level, and I still sucked at them), had a small circle of friends and was bored out of my mind. I drove my teachers to distraction by rarely turning in homework but acing tests. My poor mother on numerous occasions had to fight with instructors to pass me. I wouldn’t have graduated High School if not for her. She was 5’1 & ¾" as she would often proudly state and maybe 110 pounds soaking wet. One her favorite momisims was “dynamite and poison come in small packages,” she was a force to be reckoned with.

What really made High School tolerable though were the drugs and alcohol. See, if you were loaded or drunk you were expected to say and do inappropriate things. It would be forgiven with the blanket, “oh, he is just f#%ked up.” Talk about a get out of jail free card. As you can well imagine, drugs and alcohol became constant companions and close personal friends. Time passed and I kept checking off boxes: I got married (poor girl), bought a house, became a father and had the beginnings of a career in business management, because that is what “normal” life looked like, right? Things were good, at least I thought so, right up until they weren’t. My reliance on intoxicants turned on me and I ended up out of control, alone, broke, in dire straits physically and mentally. Then at 30 years of age I sought help and have been free of active addiction since 1985.

When I first I entered the community of recovery I was amazed. They talked about secrets and being “the actor,” of hidden feelings and motivations, lies and destructive behaviors. I felt like I was home at last and I let my guard down a little. Though I am still a part of this community, this feeling lasted only a couple of years until I had to face the truth, though I had much in common, I was still “special” and proceeded to work to “fit in” once again.

You see, I’m Autistic and all that implies. Hyper focus, given to routine, poor socialization skills, difficulty in forming and maintaining relationships, the whole eye contact thing (I have been practicing that for over 55 years and I still get it wrong) and so on. I am “high functioning” with (if you believe the tests) a high IQ. Sounds good, but to me it’s like being the car in the junkyard with the best paint job and good tires. I know, I know, just stop it. You must admit though it is a pretty good line. Shhh…just between you and me, the whole IQ testing thing, today I am pretty sure all it really denotes is someone who takes IQ tests well. Just sayin.

There used to be a thing called Asperger Syndrome, which pretty much described me. It is not a thing anymore though, which kinda sucks cause Asperger sounds like you’re having a burger made from snake and only real men eat snake burgers, I could see John Wayne or Errol Flynn eating a snake burger and liking it (remember, born in 55).

It wasn’t until President Kennedy came to office that the approach to mental health and how we address and work with children who are “special” began to change. In the ensuing decades a new world of resources and understanding has emerged, and had I been born a decade or so later, my life probably would have had a very different trajectory.

There are myriad of ways we can be defined, if we allow it. I am not DISabled; I am just other abled. I see the world through a prism of colors, sounds and textures different than you, not a good thing or a bad thing, it just is what it is. On the upside, having studied people’s expressions (micro and macro), vocal inflections, body language, etc. since I was a small child, I have an uncanny ability for “reading” people and predicting behavior, especially those who suffer from addiction.

Today, maybe it has to do with getting older, but I don’t care anymore about “fitting in,” I want to spend the rest of my days free of the fear-based restrictions I placed on myself and be honest. I met a young man recently who was Autistic, I asked him how he was coping with life and fitting in. You know what he said? “Screw’em. If they don’t like me for who I am, I don’t want them in my life.” I cried.

We all have gifts and talents, are part of the grand fabric of life, the tapestry of colors truly a wonder. All here to teach and be taught, no one without or lacking value. Today I see the world through a new pair of glasses and though the music in my mind is somewhat different from yours, it is all part of the great symphony, every note of value, even those off key for they provide the impetus for change and growth. The key is, and always has been, love, and from love acceptance and respect.

So, if we ever meet in the “real” world, whatever that is, I may say something a little off key or be a little too blunt, but don’t take it personally. Oh, and I am told I can be a little intense so there is that. It is just me, being me, no longer in hiding, and chances are excellent I will probably say something that will make you laugh and though I don’t own a 1949 Buick Roadmaster convertible I am an excellent driver.