*NSYNC, from the perspective of someone who never really earned "teenager" status

I know this is unrelated to autism, but I I stumbled across this delightful article on the Rolling Stone website, and I had to talk about it.

You see, growing up, my family was always a little bit behind the curve.  We got our first color TV somewhere around 1995.  We got our first cell phone somewhere around 2003 (just one phone.  For a family of six).  And we didn’t hear pop music until 2000 (but it was only one CD: Backstreet Boys’ Millenium).  We didn’t start listening to anything else new for several more years.  I’m more familiar with the Beatles, the Monkees, Elton John, Three Dog Night, and so on.  So, I was never a part of the *NSYNC phenomenon. Fun fact: when I first heard of the band, I knew basically nothing about music.  So when they told me about this new band, called “in sink,” I had no idea what they were talking about, or why they wanted to be named after stuff in sinks.  It was only later, when I read an article where they asked if they were always “in sync,” did I figure out what the word meant.

This article showed me what I missed.  Before this, I had only ever heard the songs off of No Strings Attached (which we bought a good deal after the band split up).  I had only ever seen the music videos for Bye Bye Bye, It’s Gonna Be Me, and Pop.  This was a fascinating journey, and I’m thrilled to tell you about it.  

In *NSYNC’s first video, I immediately begin to identify the performers: baby face, tall guy with good hair, scary guy, Justin Timberlake, and other good hair guy.  They are all so young.  Woah.  How old were they when this started?  Baby face and tall guy look familiar, and I realized this was because of this movie, which I saw on TV a few years ago.  The visual effects are so… cute.  I realize this must have been really cool and high tech when they made it, but wow.  And then they’ve got those really cool dance moves (which I’m sure they had to rely on because of the low budget.  I noticed in later videos that they did less dancing, more throwing money at extras and special effect people).  But I like their harmony--I’ve always loved a good (number of people) part harmony.  How many people are in that band?  They won’t stop dancing long enough for me to count (after consulting with someone who was conscious during the nineties and the new millenium, the answer is: five.  There are five members.)

In the second video, everyone’s a little blonder, a little more serious about telling us how much they love and miss us (they feel the PAIN)(seriously, how old are these guys?).  More camera angles, more costume changes, and more interesting dance moves.  Baby face is blonder, scary guy looks a little less scary (less gel, I think), tall guy is blonder, too, and JT got a haircut?  Looks like he goes right back to those frosted tips later, though.  I think I’m gonna change other good hair guy to hat guy now, because he’s the only one with something on his head for the whole music video.  As a whole, I’ve definitely seen worse videos, visual-wise.

Video number three: other good hair guy has upgraded his hat, and Justin has gone full-on blonde WHAT ARE YOU DOING, JUSTIN?  Why are you wearing an earring?  They’re showing all these baby pictures, but I could barely tell the difference between your teenage selves.  I have no idea who is who in these pictures.  I do like that tall guy always tries to incorporate almost-signs for his singing (together again?  That’s pretty close, tall guy.  Didn’t you throw up two fingers in the last video for the word “too”?  Good for you, tall guy).  But it sounds like in the first verse, JT is singing off-key.  Is that just me?  Because that is grating.  Sorry, JT.  You gotta pick up your game.

Four.  When I saw the name of the song, I thought they were going to be singing with Britney Spears (U drive me crazy--that’s one of her songs, right?  I’m sure of it), but no, it’s just the the boys. (When I thought of Britney, I thought of this song, but when I think of this song, I think of Kina Grannis, because her version is the definition of amazing. Don't believe me? Look it up. Okay, don't do that. But do listen, it's my favorite.)  

Now, back to *NSYNC. Crazy hat guy is now crazy hair guy.  What.  I’m not sure what he’s trying to accomplish here, but I’m sure he got whatever it is.  And scary guy finally fixed his hair!  He’s not scary anymore!  He kind of looks familiar now, actually…  I wonder where I’ve seen him?  Probably from one of the three *NSYNC videos I know.  I was too distracted by this to register that they were finally telling me everybody’s names.  Oh, well.  Why are they doing paper-mache?  I want to do paper-mache!  Why hasn’t anyone ever used that medium in music videos before?  This is the longest, chillest song intro I’ve ever heard.  Is it like that on the CD?  I think it’s pretty awesome that they dress up as the Jackson Five, since, like the article states, they ripped off one of their songs for their debut.  Superman T-shirt?  They were doing that back then?  Props, man.  PS, Justin pulls off drag pretty well.  Just throwin’ that out there.

Five!  More insanity.  I’m starting to see a theme in what these boys sing about.  I’ve also never seen a music video in an asylum before (I’m starting to think I don’t watch enough music videos).  Crazy hair guy does not fail to disappoint: his hair is even more insane, if that’s possible.  I sincerely hope he continues to change his hair for each music video.  I’m beginning to rely on this.  Justin pulls of crazy pretty well.  I’m starting to see how he’s the talent here.  But scary guy does a pretty good job, too.  I think baby face is the only one who’s really enjoying himself in the asylum.  IS THAT THE GIRL FROM SABRINA THE TEENAGE WITCH?  Somebody I recognize!  Although that show kind of went downhill, if you ask me.  My favorite part of this whole video is scary guy singing/screaming crazy while he’s in a straightjacket.  I changed my mind: he does better crazy than Justin.  And then, all the sudden, they’re released, and their ex-girlfriends go in their places.  No, no, I get the symbolism.  It’s just kind of the opposite of what they’re saying in the song.

Six.  Crazy hair guy does not disappoint.  Sure, he’s using the same style he did before, but it’s different than the last one, and that’s the point.  I like the uber-modern bubble fountains in the background, to help distinguish between shots of the band and shots of the family in war-times.  Question: are they singing about the mother, or the son?  Because it sounds like they’re singing about their girlfriend, but a love interest for the guy doesn’t show up until later in the video… But it’s very sweet and heart-wrenching and that stuff.  EXTRA PROPS for having a pensive in the music video, years before they talk about that in Harry Potter.  Oh!  More earrings.  

Seven.  Seven!  This is one I’ve seen before!  I even know most of the words to the song!  I like that they have all the puppets and stuff for this video, instead of No Strings Attached.  For the record, I don’t know if there is a video for No Strings Attached, but I’m just saying.  Wait, where’s crazy hair guy?  I can’t find him, I CAN’T FIND HIM!  Everybody’s moving around too fast, and I don’t even know what his face looks like.  What if they switched him out?  I need crazy hair guy!  How could you do this to me?  I think I’m hyperventilating.  It’s okay, Penny, it’s okay, we’ll find him.  We’ll find him!  Or at least I hope we will.  I feel so disillusioned.  Tall guy has red hair, now, though.  That’s kind of cool.  I’m beginning to realize I never really saw this video all the way through.  I mostly just saw the beginning and the end.  The physics-defying blue room is pretty cool, by the way.  I want one now.  Why is Justin grinning at the camera and cackling?  I’m not complaining, just curious.  You know, this makes some decent action-movie footage, but I don’t know where the anti-physics room plays into all of this.  I FINALLY KNOW WHO SCARY GUY REMINDS ME OF.  It all just clicked.  It’s this guy.  If you haven’t seen Sons of Provo, then you haven’t lived.  

You're welcome.

Side note: it just occurred to me that Bye Bye Bye is the first song in the lineup that doesn’t talk about how much they love “you” (as in the girl they are with, or just broke up with, whom they always address as “you”).  Good for you, guys.  Good for you.

Eight.  It’s Gonna Be Me.  This is the first music video of theirs that I had seen all the way through, and I might have even watched it more than once (I can’t remember). More puppet/toy references.  Maybe they did that for all the music videos of this album?  For the record, when they’re not puppets, I actually think they’re doing some really cool stuff: the multi-colored room, and cool dance moves, in their dark and almost-but-not-quite matching outfits, is pretty cool.  Cool.  The toy stuff is fun, though.  With their jerky movements, and plastic hair, they look like toys you might want to bring home.  If you don’t mind sentient toys, watching you while you sleep, that is.  I still can’t find crazy hair guy, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s the new goatee guy.  But everyone’s blurring together, more and more, and it’s hard to say.  Three questions: if the main characters turn into real people when they get scanned, why didn’t anyone else?  And, if they were all “in love” with the girl walking by, why did they go after the Barbie-types?  And, what is toy Justin wearing?  I’m liking tall guy more and more, now that he’s the new-crazy hair guy.  Red works for him, and I can distinguish him from everybody else, now.  One more question: why is that girl buying all of these toys?  It’s probably not for her, maybe a niece or nephew or something (she doesn’t look old enough to have kids, but I’m not a good judge of those things).  Why is she getting G.I.Joes and Barbies?  Is it Christmas?  That’s an awful lot of toys she’s buying there.  Or is the child she’s shopping for really open-minded?  Or does she just like these toys herself?  I don’t understand.

Nine.  Back to music I don’t know, for videos I’ve never seen.  CRAZY HAIR GUY IS BACK!  Oh, how I’ve missed you!  Listen, while you were gone, some guy in a goatee took your place, I think you’re gonna need to have a talk with the other sink boys and get this all sorted out.  So, we’ve got a bunch of teenage girls, hanging out in a bedroom, singing to *NSYNC.  I know this actually happens, because I went to a sleepover once.  We sang to Avril Lavigne (who I’d never heard before, but everyone knew all the words.  It’s a cold, cold night, because we’re good church girls and don’t say bad words) and Dream Street (believe it or not, I actually knew one of their songs.  I was really surprised that I had something in common with them. Down on dreeaam streeet.), which they had to choreograph a dance number to.  Now, since I know that this is a regular occurrence for teenage girls, and that they will, most likely, be doing exactly this while they’re listening to the song, why would they want to be watching other girls, doing the same thing?  They could just pull out the family camcorder for that.  I was, however, glad to see some of the “other stuff” that the boys did: I got to see them backstage, doing whatever stuff it is boy bands to backstage.  I got to see them smile for the camera, and do crazy tricks at their concerts (it all looks very exciting).  So I filled in another empty spot of my teenagehood.  Thanks for that, guys.

Ten.  This song actually sounds a little familiar.  I’m not sure, though, it could be just like some other song I know.  I like the redwood forest: I’m sure your fans don’t get enough of the wonders of nature, but hopefully after this, some of them left their bedrooms and got a good look at the world.  I don’t mean it cynically.  I’ve seen music videos in the forest plenty of times, but redwoods?  That’s taking it up a notch.  I spent much of the video, trying to figure out which member of the band was in which bubble-memory-thing, before realizing that they weren’t in any of them.  They’re singing about other people’s relationships.  That’s pretty cool, I guess.  I don’t see that all that often.  I would like to know what is up with the turtlenecks, though.  Goatee guy is back.  I’m 90% sure that he really is crazy hair guy.  But we’ll never know for sure, now, will we?  I would also like to know why the guy previously known as scary is wearing those distracting pants.

Eleven.  I’VE SEEN THIS ONE BEFORE.  This was from back in the days, when I watch Yahoo! Launch 24/7.  Through them, I was introduced to KT Tunstall and Taylor Swift, among others.  Those were good times, having a bunch of random songs thrown at me, with little or no control or prompting from me.  This was long before I was introduced to Pandora.  This song blew my mind.  It was a pop song, singing about pop.  They were describing what pop does to you, while they were doing it.  Everything they talked about, was something that I’d felt personally that very first time I heard Larger Than Life and I Want It That Way, fiddling around with a CD player my family had borrowed specifically for that purpose back in 2000 (and every time since).  I loved this song, so much.  I played it, over and over again.  I hadn’t really seen Justin Timberlake before, so I didn’t know how his hairstyle was a deviation from what he’d had before.  I just knew he was awesome, and I had to listen to it another three thousand times.  The guy previously known as scary has horrible hair, though.  Wow.  Also, it’s interesting looking at it now.  I will say this now, and probably repeatedly later: I was born naturally blind to anything sexual.  With practice and study, now I can identify references 85% of the time, but back when I was obsessed with this song, I had NO IDEA that them, gyrating with scantily-clad females, or pelvic thrusting towards the floor meant anything at all.  Now, watching all those women, pawing at various members of the band, I’m kind of horrified.  I will say this though: their dance break, where their clothes are changing all over the place, is kind of trippy.  I don’t know if it’s supposed to symbolise anything, but I like it.  Everything is just so FLASHY and IN YOUR FACE.  Like pop is, I guess.  Also, Justin beatboxing.

Twelve.  The beginning part, with the silent movie thing going on, is super cute.  But they don’t bring it up again for the rest of the video (until the very end).  Be consistent, INSINK.  The chorus of this one sounds familiar, so I probably heard it, too.  But I don’t know if I heard it on Yahoo! Launch, too, or what.  Most of the video consists of them sitting around (everything’s black and white), singing sadly.  You know, I’m 90% sure I saw part of this one once.  I must have seen it on Launch.  I find it interesting that they’ve started separating Justin from the rest here (they’ve done it a little before, especially in the fact that they always have him front and center for everything).  Looking back, I forgot that Pop was an *NSYNC song, not just Justin.  It’s not surprising.  It’s turned from The Boyband to Justin and Those Guys.  It’s no wonder he wandered off and got a solo career.

Thirteen: the last one ever.  Back into the realm of unknown.  I had never heard/seen this one before, which is not surprising, since I only listened to Launch for a couple of months, so I probably missed it.  There’s more gyrating and getting in girls’ faces, and stuff.  There’s a bunch of hanging out, tug of war, a car race, and then a dance party.  It bugs me how they’re jumping up and down on those car roofs.  Yes, I know, they’re old, so they’re sturdier than modern cars.  But I see the metal bending, and I just cringe.  I could barely focus on anything else in the video but that.  And their weird hats.  But mostly that.  Like, in one of their earlier videos, they’re dancing on a platform suspended over a pool: I see it bending and shaking with ever stomp and jump.  I wonder if it ever broke for someone?  I’d like to see that.  I’m sure they could turn it into a whole new music video.  Better that, than banging up some perfectly good classic cars.

Well, that was an interesting journey.  I feel like I’ve “caught up” with the rest of the world, in terms of pop culture.  What’s that, you say?  Boyz II Men?  What’s that?  Seriously, though, are they really that well known?  I heard the name only once before today, and I have no idea what they sing.

Penny

A letter to my neurotypical sister

Dear little sister,

You are loud, confusing, sweet, energetic, smart and mature beyond your years.  I can't count the number of times I have mimicked you in a tough social situation, and yet--you've shown me in your own way that people like you better when you're you, not some "perfect" person carved out of illusions and expectations.  You're the one with all the answers when it comes to boy troubles and wardrobe malfunctions, and you always know just what to say to make me laugh.  And you still love me, even after I stabbed you in the face with a straw.

I've spent my whole life, trying to understand you.  Because I believed if I cracked your code, I'd have the key to understand every other strange and confusing person I met.  I've studied your every word, every action, like an anthropologist in an exotic land.  But I missed something.  All this time I've been watching you, studying you, you were simply content to live and let live.  You had no idea the way I thought, the way I saw the world, but you didn't mind either way.  You loved me for me, whoever that was, and saw no need to question it.  You see, we're different like that. When you love something, you love to let it be.  When I love something, I need to know every last detail about it.  I simply can't let it go.  It's who I am.

When I began to realize just how different I am from most other people, I was ecstatic   At last, I understood why it is so hard to understand everyone else.  I'm finally understanding myself, learning how to love myself--in my own unique way.  Just like everything else I've ever loved, I've delved myself into learning every little detail of the way I tick.  It never occurred to me that you wouldn't want to know the same things.

I've begun to notice that every time I bring it up, you shrink.  It's subtle, so I could be wrong, but I've known you your whole life.  I hope that by now, I can at least read your face, if not anyone else's.  You don't like to hear how your big sister is "broken," or how different you and I are.  You just want to hang out, to laugh together, play our games, watch TV, talk about boys and work and school.  You want us to just be.  You don't want to hear about scientific studies and statistics.  You don't want to hear about my shortcomings, or stims, or "superpowers," any more than you wanted to hear about Spider-Man's latest showdown with the Green Goblin, or listen to another stanza of Li nozzi di Figaro.  They aren't your obsessions, they're mine.  And I've learned not to bore you with them (most of the time).

But when my special interest is, in essence, me, I forget that.  I never made the connection that if the way I love things is so different than the way you love things, then maybe the way you love people is different, too.

This warrants much more study and research.

But I'll keep that in mind.  That, unless you specifically ask me, you probably don't want to hear how my autism effects my taste in clothing, my stance on PDA, or my bowling scores.  That when it comes to you, you are content just to be with me.  You don't want or need to know everything--all you need to know is that you are you, and I am me, and whoever that is, is fine with you.

Neurotypicals can be so strange sometimes.  But I love you.

Penny

Ballet: we're all freaks, here

So I started ballet today!  I wasn't as nervous as I thought I would be, even though I haven't danced in a long time, and I wasn't sure if I should wear all my dance stuff, or if I even knew where all of it was.  I just put on my leotard, (and some soft pants, for a compromise) and went.  I was pretty chill, which is totally not me.  Luckily for me, since it was the first day of class, and Ballet for Beginners, we didn't do any dancing (although we covered our positions in the last five to ten minutes of class).  We did the role, making sure that the teacher had something to identify us by (mine was music, because when we were commenting that there was only one boy in the class, I said that I was the only girl in my advanced music class, which started a short discussion about gender roles and the like.  Apparently the teacher's girly-looking daughter is in love with welding.)  

We went over the syllabus, of course, and then we introduced ourselves.  We said our name, any dance experience, and something interesting about us.  Somebody said they loved rocks, another person told us how much of a geek she was (she had a Star Trek henna tattoo.  I high-fived her.  It was an absolute necessity).  I decided I wanted to tell them that I was autistic.  I know, sometimes it's better not to, because people will get to know you for you, before you start slapping on labels that'll just confuse them.  But, I don't know.  I've never identified myself as autistic outside of the forums, and I really wanted to.  Besides that, mostly what people were saying about themselves were weird and quirky things, things that set them apart from other people, and that make them, them.  So I figured it was appropriate.  I was really nervous, especially because I was near the end of the line, and I wasn't sure exactly what to say.  I didn't want to say "I'm autistic, so I don't like peas, numbers, or people touching me."  I also didn't want to say "I'm autistic, so I love music, collecting glass things and containers, and sitting completely still and silent as I obsessively read Harry Potter."

I can't remember now what I said, but basically it was this "Hi, I'm Penny.  I'm actually autistic (there were some "Ooooh"s exchanged around the room, mostly of surprise, I think).  I found out a couple months ago, so I'm not like, super autistic, but... yeah.  It basically means that I love geeking out about things, and I'm kind of weird and quirky."  I know, it's really vague, but I kind of lost my nerve about saying anything with specificity, especially because I hadn't really planned out what to say, and I lose my focus when people are looking at me.  I'm pretty proud of myself for not blushing or stuttering, like I usually might.  And, not that we really had a chance to socialize or anything, but I didn't see anyone giving me weird looks, or avoiding me or anything.  I even stayed and talked with Star Trek girl for a while, she was nice, and I didn't get the vibe that she was "being careful of the autistic girl" or something like that.  Heck, she may have already forgotten what I said: I know I could barely focus on anything anyone else was saying, because I was so excited and nervous about what I was going to say.

Afterwards, I was thinking about it, and I realized that I really wanted to add this: I'm autistic, which means I have a hard time with people.  But working with the arts and performance, has seriously helped me open up to people, and it's changed who I am.  I love music, I love dance, even though I haven't been trained much, and I'm so excited to get down to the basics of it.  And, since you don't know me, and you might not know any autists, I'll tell you this: you have never met someone who will work as hard, study as hard, or love as hard as I do.  This semester is going to change me, and it might change you, too, if you let it.

I already like my teacher.  She's quirky (she's the one who says she just LOVES rocks), and she loves diversity.  She kept talking about how wonderful it is that we're all so different, that we come from different backgrounds, and we're here for different reasons, but we're all here together, and we all have the same goals.  I'm so excited to work with her, and the others.  I think if I can have better control over my movements, and better awareness of my body, then I can better communicate using my body, like most neurotypicals do naturally, and maybe even better understand what people are saying to me.

Here goes!

Penny

So, I'm not dead

To begin this post, I want to let you know that I didn't die.  I had no adverse reaction to the anesthesia at all.  In fact, it worked magnificently.  I didn't feel a thing.  An hour long operation felt like five minutes!  And I didn't feel or act loopy afterwards (to Unit Four's dismay), but I was happy enough.  I took a detailed (probably boring) account of the whole experience, for my research, but since I wasn't "drugged to the gills," there wasn't much to write about.  I was still on my pain medication (just in case) today, during class.  Now, that was interesting.

This is what I wrote when I got back home:

As the teacher started handing things out, I noticed I was feeling kind of funny.  I wondered if it was because I was excited/nervous about getting back into music theory again, but I realized it was more than that, that it was an actual, physical feeling.  I realized that I was high.  Like, legitimately high.  I also realized that whenever I described singing on stage to other people as giving me a “high” feeling, that I was absolutely, 100% CORRECT, and that I should never again feel guilty or weird about saying that again.  I also realized that I like the high I get from singing a LOT better, mostly because it is under my control, and doesn’t show up for absolutely no reason.  At first, I couldn’t believe that people would actually do drugs to get that feeling, because even though it feels good (and kind of weird…) it’s DISTRACTING.  It was incredibly, and increasingly difficult to concentrate on what the teacher was saying, because I was slowly getting higher and higher.  Then I realized that distraction is exactly what these people are going for.  They want to forget the stress, forget where they are or who they are, or what they have to be doing.  And I can understand that.  That’s why I read: because when I read, everything else goes away.  I completely forget all of my troubles, my responsibilities, everything, and I am someone else, somewhere else.

But as for me, I never want to be on drugs like that again.  Don’t get me wrong, it felt good.  But I don’t like getting something for nothing: I like to earn that high, from weeks or months of work, culminating in one, amazing performance.  I don’t want it to show up, out of nowhere, distracting me from doing what I want to be doing at the moment (which, in this case, was trying to see if I remember ANYTHING from spring semester music theory).

Even high, I did great in my ear training/sight singing class.  Thanks to my surgery, I couldn’t sing on pitch very well, but I had rhythmic dictation spot on, and I only missed one note in melodic dictation.

As for music theory, the next class?  That was… interesting.  The drugs had taken a better hold on me.  In between classes, when I was hanging out with one of my friends in the hall, I realized I had to hold onto something, to keep from being too dizzy.  When we got into class, and started discussing detailed music theory concepts that I haven’t thought about in months, I could barely understand a thing the teacher was saying.  Sometimes I didn’t even notice he was talking at all.  I just sat there going, “Shoot.  This is high.  I’m high right now.  How many people come to school like this all the time?  I can’t believe I am sitting here, in class, on drugs.”  

Actually, it was really funny, because before class, I was talking to (a guy friend) again, and I told him I’d had my wisdom teeth removed on Saturday, and he was the first person to show the kind of enthusiasm I was looking for.  He said, “Woah, did you feel anything?” and I said “No!  I didn’t feel a thing, I was completely out of it!”  And he asked if they put me on laughing gas, and I said no, they gave me anesthesia, and showed him the bruise from the IV.  Girls don’t think that “gross” stuff like that is cool, but I do.  And I’m glad I got to share that with a guy, to I could geek out and enjoy myself.

But back to class.  I actually managed to bring my focus around a few times to answer some questions (I even got some of them right), so I’m really proud of myself for that.  Even high, without having practiced my music theory technique since May, I’ve STILL got it.  Sort of.  I’ll do better over the next couple weeks, as I get back in the game.

So... lots of fun.  When I wrote that a few hours ago, I was still a little high, but I haven't taken the stuff since, so I'm one hundred percent clear to start posting stuff on the internet again.  I think.

Since I didn't have any homework to do, I decided to go ahead and watch that Temple Grandin movie (finally) since I'm alert enough to appreciate it.  It was good!  The only thing I didn't like about it, was that the end of the movie felt like a beginning.  I guess that's often a good thing for people, but for me, it meant I was left unsatisfied.  As in, "where's the rest of the story?"  But it's okay, though, because this isn't fiction.  There actually is more, and I can find it on the internet, in her speeches and books.

The movie also had me pondering.  For one thing I want to show this movie to those closest to me, so they can see who I am and how I think.  But I want them to know which parts are like me, and which aren't.  For example: I don't think in pictures.  In fact, it's pretty hard for me to conjure up images in my mind.  Sometimes, I can't do it at all.  I remember one time, I was waiting to meet with a student I had tutored several times before, and I realized I couldn't remember what she looked like.  I tried to picture her, and I could remember only the most basic descriptions, not enough to pick her out of a crowd.  It was disturbing and frightening: what if I couldn't find her?  But here's the thing: when I see someone, I remember them.  I'm actually very good at remembering that way.  If I see them, I can remember how I know them, where I usually see them, many details they have told me about themselves, and the types of things that they say.  I can't remember their names, though, unless I worked very, very hard to memorize it.  When it comes to movies, I'm usually the first person to place an actor.  I can't remember their real name, but I can remember what movie/series they were in, what type of character they played, and I might even be able to quote you a few of their lines (although no one has asked me to do that, so I don't know how thorough I am in that area).

I don't think in pictures.  That's just how I am.  But I don't know if I can describe how I do think.  I mean, how do you think?  Could you describe it to someone else, without knowing how they think, and therefore being able to say what's different, and what's the same?  I think it's incredible, the way that Temple Grandin has been able to convey what it's like in her mind for the rest of us.  That's not something most people can do, autistic or neurotypical.

I remember.  I remember a lot of things.  I don't know if I remember more or less than other people, all I know is I remember different.  I don't easily remember names or dates or numbers, or things like that.  But I remember music.  I remember concepts.  I'm good with science.  And math, but not numbers.  I get numbers mixed up all the time.  That's why I love algebra so much: it's the logic of math, without the confusion of numbers.  I'm fabulous with reading, but I don't see in my mind what's happening.  I just... know it.  I've tried to play things out in my mind as I read it, but it's exhausting and it slows me down.  I like it better just to read.

I need balance.  I need order.  I need calm.  I feel, hear, see, smell, everything.  I'm better at blocking it out now, but when I was a kid, lots of things seriously bothered me.  Like when people would SCREECH their knives and forks against the plate, it literally HURT.  

When someone or something touches me, I feel it, like a physical thing, lingering on my skin, for a long period of time.  When it's something abrupt, like something too cold, too hot, too sharp, too rough, or just plain painful, it stays longer.  And I can't be out of balance.  I can't wear this thing on one arm, and not the other, or one side of my face, and not the other.  This is why I hate purses, but I can endure a backpack.  Purses only stay on one side of you.  It throws everything off.  And I can't stand it.

Rough clothing, bright colors, weird food, you name it, I felt it.  And it was all overpowering.  I never liked people to touch me, and I never got the urge to touch other people.  I'm just not wired that way.  That's just who I am.

The other thing I was thinking about was stimming.  You see, I've been trying to figure out how I even want people to react to my stimming.  It's probably a weird question, but if I know how I want people to react to me doing things that are normal to me, then I can figure out who is behaving in a way that makes me comfortable to be myself around them.  Now, people have had different reactions to my stimming.  Sometimes it's negative (my mom gets migraines, so whenever I did an auditory stim, she would tell me to stop), sometimes it's positive (I used to bite my cheeks, constantly.  My dad thought it was so cute, and he would chuckle and point it out when I did it).  But the thing is, I don't like either one, and I couldn't figure out why.  I should pick one, and stick with it, so I know who is my friend, and who is not.  But I finally realized today, that there's a third choice.  Stimming is normal to me.  It's something I have to do in order to feel normal.  Some other things I have to do in order to feel normal are: breathing, blinking, and eating.  I feel very uncomfortable if I don't do those things, just like how I don't feel comfortable if I don't stim.  Both are required, and normal (I will never get used to that word!  I still can't believe that I can apply that word to any part of my existence.  Normal.  NORMAL.  There's my normal, and your normal, and their normal, and none of them have to be the same.  This is absolutely glorious!).  What I want is for people to not react at all to my stimming.  They see me breathe, and they don't even register that I'm doing it.  Stimming is the same thing.  I don't want them to point and laugh, no matter how adorable and quirky they think it is.  And I certainly don't want them to tell me to stop because it's irritating.  I just want them to let them be them, and me be me.  That's all I want. 

I find it interesting, though, watching the difference between Temple and me.  She's smarter than me, for one thing.  For another, she's "more autistic," or at least, she behaved more like a stereotypical autistic person than I do.  I was kind of jealous, actually, that she was "allowed" to tell people that she didn't like people touching her, that she was "allowed" to tell people that she could only eat certain things, that she was "allowed" to run away and find something to calm her down.  

Growing up, I didn't know I was autistic.  I think that if I was more autistic, then it would have been more obvious (and more painful), but I wasn't.  All I saw was that everybody else was exposed to the same horribly distracting (at best) stimuli, and they did nothing.  They didn't run away screaming, or push it away from themselves.  They just sat there.  They sometimes even requested more of it.  I got the idea that they were just as miserable as I, and that there was some unspoken rule that "you are not allowed to tell people this is bothering you."  Obviously, nobody else was breaking that rule, so the consequences must be dire, right?  So I suffered in silence, to put it dramatically.

I was also jealous that she was able to keep doing spectacular things, even though people mocked her and pushed her down from all angles.  This was a HUGE part of why I hid any talents I had, right from the beginning.  I was afraid of what people would do to me, if they found out I was special.  I was afraid they would destroy what little I had.  So, instead, I spent all my energy and focus on blending in.  Which is truly sad.  Temple Grandin is either brave, stubborn or both.  I was neither one, growing up.  I just did my best to follow everyone else, even though I now know that they barely know what to do with their own lives, let alone mine.

It's okay, though.  I've learned a lot this way.  I think I can connect with people better than she did, even though I'm not a brilliant musician or scientist or something.  And knowing what I know now, will effect who I become in the future.  Sure, I won't be Temple Grandin.  But the world already has one of those.  What they need now, is one of me. 

Penny

Penny Pre-Op

Today, I'm going to document an interesting experience.  You see, this afternoon, I'm going to have my wisdom teeth removed.

I've never had any kind of surgery before, so I don't really know what to expect (although I did have one of my baby teeth pulled, and I don't think they gave me enough laughing gas, because I didn't feel any different, maybe a little tingly, but certainly not euphoric.  I felt the needle, and when they pulled out my tooth.).  I am considering blogging about my experience right after, so I won't forget, and you'll get to see me all loopy on pain meds (but we'll see about that).  Right after typing this sentence, my mom said to me "and make sure you don't write anything, or at least send anything out to the world when you're on that medication!"  How does she know me so well?

I will tell you about my day so far, though.  You see, before anything big or knew, I've have various (very strong) reactions.  I get anxiety pretty easily, so even after one day off, I get tense and anxious about going back to school.  But surgery?  That's a lot worse than school.  And I've never had it before (and the dentist didn't tell me what to expect), so I should be absolutely paralyzed with fear.

But I'm not.  I actually don't feel anything (except a little hungry.  I can't eat for 6-8 hours before the operation, so I had to get up 3-4 hours earlier than I'm used to).  After I had breakfast, I've spent the past 3 1/2 hours cleaning, because I don't want to feel guilty about not helping with chores or anything after my surgery, and because I seriously have nothing to do.  I could read my book, or watch TV, or play my new game (I found my favorite game on gog.com, which I haven't been able to play in a decade because our disc got scratched up and then we upgraded our computers.  I've been geeking out since Thursday, when I bought it), or draw some stuff (my mother, who is my FAVORITE PERSON ON THE PLANET, bought me a really nice drawing tablet for my computer.  Quote: I've been GEEKING OUT since Thursday, when it showed up in the mail).  But all of these things involve me sitting still, which I will be required to do for the rest of the day (and tomorrow, too).  I'll have all the time I could possibly want to do chill, relaxed things.  So I need to be moving around.

So, I did laundry.  A lot of laundry.  And the dishes.  And the dining room.  And on and on and on.  I really should be feeling nervous or anxious or SOMETHING right about now, but I don't.  Although...

I've noticed in my reading that Autist's feelings are often... "off".  We get strong emotional reactions to what NeuroTypical people don't, and, we often get the wrong emotion, or no emotion at all, to things that they normally do.  When we do have emotions, we have a harder time understanding them, as well, so we usually end up confused and upset because we're feeling something, but we don't know what it is, and we don't even know if it's the right feeling (which is kind of ridiculous, because really, there's not really a "right" or "wrong" when it comes to feelings.  But we don't really think that way.)  John Robison talks about this in his book Be Different.  He says there was a time when he was in a horrible car crash, when most people would be freaking out and unable to do things, he felt nothing.  He just got out of the car, made sure he and his buddy were in one piece, then went and helped the people in the other vehicle.  He wasn't scared or angry or disturbed by the gore.  He just did what he had to.  I haven't had any dramatic experiences like that, where I was in danger and I didn't "feel" like it, so I can't say how I would be in a situation like that.  But it's food for thought.  Our feelings are confusing, and they sometimes get in our way (like when we get overstimulated and either meltdown, or shut down, like I usually do).  But other times, they are conveniently absent, letting us do whatever we need to in a tough situation, where other people would have problems.

Like getting your laundry done, apparently.  Well, I'm going to go check out a few things from the library, and then continue to kill time until my surgery.  I'll probably start freaking out right before it, like I normally do.  Sometimes when I have a speech or performance, I'm not nervous at all for the days or weeks leading up to it.  Only when I'm about to get on stage, to I start shaking and forgetting my lines, and all that fun stuff.

It's kind of funny, actually.  All day today and yesterday, my recurring thoughts have been like this: "I've never had anesthesia before.  Some people are allergic: I might be.  Theoretically, I could die.  This could be my last day on the planet.  I'm thirsty.  I wonder what's for dinner."  I'm not afraid of death.  I haven't been for years.  I am afraid of dying.  But dying under anesthesia has to be the most painless way to go (I'm not going to google it and psych myself out)--I won't even be awake for it.  So, in case I never blog again, you'll know what happened to me.

I'm so weird.  I'm still not scared.  I guess that's a good thing?  Hmm.  

This is a fascinating experience.  I'll keep good notes.

Penny

Humor (the sequel)

I came across this article today, which resonates with what I was saying earlier:

No Corrupt Communication

My favorite part was when they said: "The Greek root for sarcasm is sarkazein and means 'to tear flesh like dogs.'"  Well, doesn't that paint a pretty picture? (an example of sarcasm)

Food for thought.

Penny

And now, a word from our sponsors...

I've noticed that ever since I started using advertisements on my blog, I've been getting a lot less views.  Coincidence?  Probably not.  I know ads annoy the heck out of me, and on the rare occasion that I don't utterly ignore any ads I see, I only briefly note what the ad is for, and then continue on my merry way.  For one thing, I'm a little paranoid (that's kind of an understatement) and I don't trust that wherever the ad is sending me won't be virus-infested website, or at the very least some kind of a scam.  For another, I hate being sold stuff.  Seriously.  Spending money, for me, is almost physically painful, even when it's for something that's necessary for my survival (you should see me at restaurants).  So, having someone come and try to convince me to believe that I need something when I really, really don't (I promise you, I don't need combo toaster-coffee maker-Ginsu chopping knife.  I really don't), and that in order to acquire this frivolous thing or service, that I must give them my money, automatically makes them not my friend.

And here I am, "trying" to sell you stuff.  I'm not surprised that that would reduce what little "popularity" I have.  It would be super nice to make money off of this: if that happened, I would feel less guilty about spending so much time writing.  On a good day, I can sit at my computer, and write for hours and hours.  That day at the library, writing seven or eight hours, was pure joy.  I would have stayed longer, if I hadn't had a gnawing pain in my stomach for an hour or two--and my parents were asking where I was.  Tangent.  Anyway.

If I could make money off of writing, that would be the most ideal.  Not a bazillion dollars, like Rowling, or something like that.  I don't even have to make enough money to live off of (although I would absolutely love that).  Just enough to help keep me going, while I work elsewhere.  I'm a woman of many talents.  My previous special interests, of math, hair, computers, and languages have all been monetarily profitable in the past, and of course my affinity for reading, writing, and learning new things (and long walks on the beach), make me versatile where others aren't.  I can do a good job in many fields.  But whenever I get a job, I put all of my attention into that, until I can't do anything else (let me refer you to my experience working in a restaurant.  I worked 40+ hours a week, for seven months, and asked for time off twice.  I was terrified to stop.  It was incredibly difficult to quit, and for that reason, I will not go back, even though I was well paid).  So, what I want to do, is work part-time at something-or-other, and write for my "real" job.

With all of these ridiculous ads plastered all over my page, I've been thinking.  I've seen other bloggers put donation buttons on their pages, and while I figure it's not very likely for somebody donating to some random blogger's page, it's also unlikely that someone click on ads, too.  Plus, I won't have to feel guilty about "selling" stuff.  Unfortunately, it says on the website that the donate button is "only for fundraisers", like saving dogs and stuff.  Although I am a mammal, and you would be saving me from menial labor, I'm not sure how the government will feel about that.  It says "Users that are not verified nonprofits must demonstrate how their donations will be used, once they raise more than $10,000."  So, if, by some strange happenstance, I earn $10,000 (I know, extremely unlikely, but I'm very good at finding the worst-case scenarios in every situation), then I'll have to tell people exactly how I spent said money.  I could just hold onto it, and not spend it, until I've figured out a responsible way to spend it.  Actually, that might be a great idea.  Except that I have no idea what a responsible way to spend it would be, beyond food and gas.  Is that acceptable?  I don't know...

This warrants more investigation.

Penny

My Sister

Before I start, I would like to say that complaining about family, without their consent, on the internet, is a really ugly thing to do, and with that, I apologize for everything I'm about to say, and I hope that my sister, and anyone who knows her, will never, ever read this post, because my sister, "Unit A," is a really smart, creative, and generous person, and one of the few people on the planet who gets my jokes.

But sometimes, Unit A is a jerk.

Today, I've been on the brink of becoming a whiny little brat all day.  See, next week, I've got two interviews in relation to my college applications, I'm having surgery on Saturday, and then I'm starting the new semester the Monday after that.  So I have a natural reason to be stressed out.  On top of that, the night before last, someone invited me to go to a baseball game with her, and because I haven't seen her in a long time, I agreed.  But baseball games involve A LOT of people and A LOT of noise and smells and lights, all of which would be stressful for any autist, and I'm not a huge sports fan, anyway, so I'll only vaguely know what's going on in the game.  Add to that the fact that I had less that 24 hours to mentally prepare for this, and my family decided that they wanted to go to the game, too, and you've got a recipe for Stress A La Mode.

To condense what would otherwise be a very long story, yesterday was extremely stressful, involving multiple arguments with multiple people (in AND out of my immediate family, which is unusual), and multiple stressful occasions involving food (I shouldn't be this way, but there it is).  I did have fun, and I got to spend time with my friends (I even ran into several people unexpectedly that I haven't gotten to see in a long time), but yesterday came at a cost.  I've been melancholy and depressed all day.  I keep trying to start something, and I get slowed down.  I only did about half the product descriptions I usually can, and when I came home and started practicing a few songs with Unit A, the good mood that usually comes along with that was very short lived.

But I'm on my way to normalization, when I find out that Pizza Movie Night has been squandered again.  It had be delayed from Friday night, to today, or so I wrongly assumed.  We were going to have hamburgers instead, no warning, no explanation.  I am fully aware that this is nothing to get all "up in a tizzy" about.  It's just food.  I like hamburgers, and they're healthier than a lot of the food I've been eating lately, so physically, I'll feel better than I have been.

But it irked me.  They didn't even tell me directly, I heard it from Unit A, who was having a conversation with our parents over the phone.  That was it.  Now that I know why I like to rely on routines like this, I can keep it from bugging me as much as it normally would.  The only problem is, my family knows, too (or at least, I assumed they did), so the fact that it bothers me, and they did it anyway, without even telling me about it, that is what bothers me the most.  But one of my big problems is, I often think about things so hard, and so much, that I'm never really sure if I've told other people or not.  So, either they forgot that I said anything, or I never did in the first place.  Or they're just being cruel, which is highly unlikely, because I know my family, and they are anything but cruel.

So you know what I did?  I decided to talk to them about it.  It's a smart thing, except for the fact that Unit A was there.  My mom was completely understanding, and I think she was actually remorseful, which makes me feel bad (my mom is too sweet, too accommodating of other people.  She's the only person I've ever made cry, outside of that one guy at work, and I HATE it when I do that), but I was glad that other people could understand how my brain works, and how, with very little effort, they could bring me ease of mind, and therefore take the tension out of the whole family.  All they had to do was tell me.  I've been stressed out, and that's my problem.  If they had told me, at least an hour in advance (although a day would have been nice), then I could have readjusted my view of the universe, and moved on.

Now we get to the part where my sister gets involved.  You see, my mom suspects that Unit A is autistic, just like me.  I'm afraid to ask her myself, because, though knowing this has been a huge help in my life, it's not my place to shove amateur diagnosis down other people's throats.  And I don't know whether or not it would be helpful for her or not.  And then there's the fact that any form of perceived criticism will be met with harsh and brutal retorts, instantly making the utterer of said observation feel like they are under personal attack.

And so, I explained as calmly and as simply as I could to the general room that having pizza once a week is a form of comfort that I have come to rely on, and it's extremely helpful to me, especially in times of stress, like this weekend.  Unfortunately, Unit A was a part of the general room, and I can only imagine what my words were being interpreted as in her mind.  She instantly snapped into the offensive (it is the best defense, after all, and since I was clearly attacking her, personally, it was the only logical response), saying that she hates pizza, and can't stand that we have it every week, and it's a blessed relief that she finally gets a break from the worst possibly food ever to have been created (and how dare I even bring up such a disgusting subject in her?).

I am aware that she hates pizza, and that every weekend is the bane of her existence because of it (she has told me as much, pretty much every week).  I never suggested that she liked our weekly ritual.  I also, was not talking about her.  I was talking about me, which I admit, I do so rarely that it must have taken her by surprise.  But it's what I was doing, and I had a very good reason to do so.  I was so taken aback (although I don't know why, this wasn't exactly an unusual occurrence with her) and so I tried to redirect and repair the conversation before any damage was done to her, or me.  I'm still not sure how I wheedled my way out of that conversation, but I know it wasn't graceful, neither did it actually resolve anything.  But I was too depressed to worry about fixing it.

I spent the rest of the night, setting her off about how to make dinner, about using her computer cable, about getting in her way while she was trying to put away her guitar, about what to TV show to watch, until finally, she just gave up and locked herself in her room.  

See, if I accept the assumption that my sister is autistic, everything she does makes more sense.  If this is true, then she and I both have difficulties connecting with other people, with understanding them, their motives and intentions, and our way of expressing ourselves is sometimes a little... off.  I don't want to make excuses for her, just like I don't want to make excuses for myself, but if this is true, then that means she doesn't hate me, and she hasn't been trying to make my life miserable on purpose.  Which would be a wonderful thing to know.

I, as an autist, sometimes struggle with the idea that other people can have a different opinion than me.  The fact that some people like anchovies on their pizza is confusing, but I've learned to live with the fact that other people are not me.  Just because I don't like something, doesn't mean it's bad, or other people shouldn't like it.  All it means is that I don't like it.  Unit A... hasn't come to this realization.  Or at least, not as far as I can tell.  In her defense, she didn't grow up with her as a sister.  When we're talking about food, she says "Onions are disgusting."  Not, "Onions are disgusting to me."  Just "Onions are disgusting," as in "Antarctica is cold, I have ten fingers, and anyone who so much as touches onions are insane, unclean, and not to be dealt with unless absolutely necessary."  

When we're talking about clothes, and I say "I don't like to wear knitted things, they're itchy and they make me sweat," she says "what's wrong with you?  I loved knitted things.  I wait all year round to wear them.  Winter is the only redeemable season because of it.  I would move to Antarctica if I could find work there.  How could you possibly not like knitted things?  I don't even want to talk to you right now."  She doesn't even say it jokingly.  She literally makes me want to apologize for my preference in clothing, and my sensitivity to certain textures.  A couple times after shopping, I've actually gone home and tried to rethink my life, because she is so certain of herself, that nobody could possibly have a different opinion than her.  Not that other people are wrong, it's that other people don't even consider another possibility but the one she's picked, and anyone who brings up anything else, does so out of utter insanity, and nothing else.

I try not to say anything negative about music around her, because of this.  Since music is my special interest, and has been for as long as I can remember, I know a lot about music, and love a large variety.  Unfortunately, as an autist, when I don't like a song or a band or a genre, I hate it.  But if Unit A likes it, she will shove it down my throat anyway.  A couple of the songs we've been rehearsing are on that list of songs I hate, but she loves.  And if I ever say anything bad about any of them, she will let me have it, no filters, whatsoever.

When I'm honest with myself (which isn't often enough), I think Unit A is the reason I've had a problem being different.  If you grow up with another autist, who's opinions and special interests are different than yours, it can have a lasting effect on you.  I grew up, knowing that if I said or did or liked something that I wasn't supposed to, I would be told, harshly, and ostracized (briefly, since none of us could really get away from each other) until I mended my ways.

I started learning how to play the piano after my sister.  She had been studying it for years before I started, so she was better than me.  However, with my laser-like focus and discipline, I mastered things that she didn't.  When I finally took lessons, in college, she hadn't been practicing for years, so, naturally, I quickly surpassed her skill level.  But when I started playing she would do one of two things.  

One, she would find what I was doing that was wrong, and try to correct it.  This is a VERY autistic thing to do, and I struggle with trying not to correct other people all the time because of it.  Because when an autist tells you you're wrong, they don't sugar coat it.  And it hurts.  Autists can be very sensitive (I know my sister and I are) and don't handle criticism very well, nor with any decent degree of maturity.  

Two, if she couldn't find anything wrong with what I was doing, she would do nothing, or disappear.  And for some reason, that's even harder for me to deal with than her cutting remarks.  We don't express our emotions very well, and if she was ever happy for my success, she rarely showed it.  The only "vibe" I got, was jealousy, and self-hatred.  She always complains about how much of a failure she feels like, when she sees celebrities her age, or younger, all successful and talented, while she is "nowhere".  She never says this stuff about me, but I wonder.  Truth is, the part of my brain that is "Unit A Land," tells me every day that it's wrong for me, the younger sister, to be better than her at anything, for me to have something that she does not.  I feel like I can't tell her when I've got a job, or a date, or a performance, because she does not have those things.  One of the less stressful times of my life was when she was engaged, and I was finally, finally allowed to have a boyfriend.  I wanted to go out and get one right away, but things fell through with the guy I was dating pretty quickly.

I want so badly to share the good things I have with her, but it'll only make her feel bad about her self.  I want to tell her about the bad things in my life, because that's what girls do to resolve their problems, and she's the only real friend I have.  But when I tell her anything's wrong, that something's bothering me, or that I have a problem, she begins to tell me how she has it worse.  I get the impression that I have no right to complain, even when I'm not complaining, I'm just asking for help, even though that's not allowed.

I don't want this to turn into a "woe is Penny" episode, and I sure as heck don't want this to be about how "terrible" my big sister is, and how "horrible" my life is because of her, because it's not.  Because she's my sister, I learned somethings that are very, very hard for an autist to learn.  Things like: other people have feelings, and other people have different opinions than you, and other people don't like to be criticized, and other people don't like to hear about your problems (and they really don't want to hear boast about your talents and possessions).  I learned that sometimes people aren't reasonable, that they don't follow your rules, and sometimes, you just have to go with it, you have to humor them, not because they're right and you're wrong, but because that's what you do to stop people from being on the defensive, and get them on your side.  It's because of her that I could work at a restaurant, where I dealt with hungry, irritated customers every day.  It's because of her that I could tutor people from a young age, getting into their heads and figuring out how to translate what I know in a way they'll understand.  It's because of her that I don't stay offended when people say or do things that hurt me, because I know that they have no clue what they just did to me.  It makes life so much easier when you know not everyone's out to get you.  That people are good inside, they just do weird things sometimes.

I guess the point of this post is a couple things.  First of all, I wanted to write out my thoughts, for real.  I've never had the guts to say anything about my sister to anyone (except for one comment to my therapist, and a little here and there to my mom).  I don't want anyone to think that she's mean, or bad, or anything, because she's not, and I love her.  But she's complicated, just like anyone, and growing up with her has has a serious, permanent effect on me.  To understand a person, you have to know the good AND bad parts.

The other reason I'm posting this, while it's an afterthought, is still relevant.  Be patient with people.  Autistic or not, everyone has a struggle.  I don't have the answer, the magical formula where you can find all the autistic people in your life, and explain to them why what they did hurt you (and how not to do it again).  Some autists are receptive to that kind of thing, while others aren't.  

Some autists are better with people than others.  As far as I've seen, every person I've interacted with likes me.  Not necessarily loves me, or wants me to be their best friend.  But I've never made an enemy in my entire life.  Not once.  It's because I treat everyone like they have feelings.  Like they have a right to their opinion, even if it's different from my own.  Like they actually might have a valid reason for that opinion, and I'm sometimes even willing to listen to what they have to say, because I very well might be wrong.  Who knows.  I treat everyone like they have good on the inside, even if they aren't showing it very well right now, because maybe they're having a hard time with something today.

I treat everyone like they're my family.  Because, if you think about it, they are.

Penny