A Return to Writing

Some time between my last post and this one, Blogger did a thing. It changed some stuff, combined my blogger account with my gmail, youtube, and whatever else Google saw fit. In the process, it appeared to lock me out of the original account I used to run this particular blog. (It used to be linked to a non Google owned email.)

I kind of moved on from blogging.  Plus things changed. I changed. I moved out from my grandma's place to my own one bedroom apartment.  (since Autumn 2012)

Some hobbies had to be put on hold because of space-time issues. (African Violet hybridizing - lack of space and lack of time). Other hobbies that I had previously put on hold I picked up and took on full steam. (painting and lifecasting)

Real leaf vs polymer clay casting I painted.

Selling my stuff at local art shows. (Spring 2017)

I still do photography but lately it's been kind of taking a lesser seat. Lately I've been using it to get a feel for what I desire to do with my art and writing.

I like to visualize being one of my bug folk roaming across landscapes such as this. 

Looking at the ground this way gives me a better feel of setting. Disney and Dreamworks had an idea when they did their movies, but reality is a lot more impressive and fascinating. The dirt we walk on? To an ant it must look like hills and piles of rocks, bark and moss everywhere. Grass blades and plants: They must tower over like trees. On sunny days the shadows may seem like going from night to day. 

Sand to an ant folk must look like walking through a landscape of rocks everywhere. Small rocks to us would look like a hill to them. Boulders as mountains. Rocks can have holes, pits, and cracks. To a bug these would be caves. A space between two boulders, a grand canyon. A creek would be a raging river. A river or a pond would appear like an ocean.

Just for fun, try looking at something small. Think about how it must appear to a bug. Visualize yourself walking on that item or around it. What does it feel like? Would you trip? Fall? Would you be able to sleep on it? Inside? Texture? Smell?

I've been taking these details in and trying to make something out of it with my writing. Some time after I moved in 2012, I had put my writing on hold and the project went into hiatus. I was left wondering what I wanted to do with my Bugfolk series. Up to then it was a series of fun little short stories but nothing more than that. I had to brainstorm and sort out things. What did I want from my series? What was the goal of each main character? The plot? Theme?

Finally having figured those things out and what I want out of my series, this has made the process a lot better. Though I still am a long ways away from a finished written series I feel a lot more confident with the direction I am going.

Anyways, the blogger issue seems to be fixed. I might not be able to access some things linked to my old account but I can access what I need to post and view comments. (This particular blog: Ramblings from a Detailed Thinker is one of the blogs I started with my old account that blogger seems to make more difficult for me to find and manage.)

A Dream I had some time ago

Okay I was skimming over some comments I had on my blog. One was to share more dreams. Agreed, I need to get back into writing my dreams.  But I get too busy. The dreams I had get forgotten in the daily mess of stuff I get involved with. Work. Eat. Chores. Hobbies. Time wasters like surfing the net.

One dream that stands out to me right now, came after a day of just feeling stressed and beaten down.  I  felt kind of lost. Quite a bit lost.  What had me down I don't remember. Just the sensation.

I was climbing up a steep hill. The sky hazy with thin wispy clouds. Vines and and all kinds of plant life loomed over me. Blocked my view.  Some were thorny. If anything I felt confused. What was I doing on this hill? What brought me there? Walking around in circles, I tried to make sense of the scene around me. Rolls of fog set in.

  Finally at the point of frustration, I couldn't take the climb any longer. The vines were too thick. There was no view of the other side. Or any sign of anyone out there.  Feeling hopeless, I cried something like, "Where am I?" and wondering who am I at the same time. Why am I here? What am I doing? What brought me here? Could have easily gone through my mind at the same time.

 I'm not really a believer of guides or spirit animals in my dreams. They never really appear when I want. It seems once in a year or more if I get anything that could be remotely interpreted such a way. Knowing this, I was well assured, this struggle I'd have to figure out on my own. With a sense of dread, I prepared to be stuck in another BSoD type of dream. (a dream that seems to be just like the computer error). Such an example would be like the repeating stairway type dream I get where I can climb up or down all I want, but never find the door.  Or get trapped in a building with endless hallways and no exit. This hill too could easily turn into such a dream.  Never getting past the circles I made, seeing the same stuff over and over...

Eventually I collapsed on all fours and sat down. So tired, and lost, there wasn't much I could do. I had given up whatever I was trying to do. Then, out of nowhere, A wolf appeared. Her shadow visible behind the vines and trees. A pack followed behind her. I couldn't see them in the fog, but I could sense their presence. Normal people would likely start to feel afraid. Very afraid. Like sort of doomed, right now. I think? I mean carnivorous animal coming in for a kill against a poor defenseless person, right? Right? I guess not this time. I didn't even flinch. It was as if I saw a person. Someone harmless. Someone who could help me. Someone who seemed to have wisdom beyond time.

A voice. A strong female voice in my head whispered softly, "We are here." Instinctively I knew the wolves were watching me. The voice was her, the alpha one, speaking telepathically.

I felt comforted, oddly.  I seemed to have known her before. Her pack seemed familiar. Had I met this wolf in a past dream? My mind goes back to a scene where I was made into a small child. (Someone other than myself.) The child, less than 5 years old got lost in a snow covered forest. A wolf appeared and laid down in front of me. She. That wolf? Her body kept me warm, saving me from the frost that night. When I woke up in the dream, the wolf was gone. I wasted the rest of the dream trying to find her and follow any tracks I could find.

There was another dream where I was sitting on top of the alpha wolf. I couldn't remember if they were leading me or I was leading them.  But we were trudging through deep snow and struggling through a blizzard. At the end of the struggle, we made it to see one of the most awesome dream scenes I can remember. Gigantic mountains, beyond any realistic proportions.  I can still remember them vividly. Were those the same wolves?


 I listened and waited for the wolves to howl.  They did. Somehow I didn't feel as alone as I did before.

The Nerve Some People....

Knowing when to speak up and when to keep silent has been an ongoing struggle.  For someone with autism, it can be dangerous.

I don't know if I made the right choice by standing up for myself. But if I didn't stand up for my self, I would have still been upset. I'm doomed either way; regretting that I spoke up when I shouldn't or regretting that I didn't speak up when I should.  At least this time I am not regretting I didn't speak up.

The situation:  I was just about ran over by some rude person in an SUV at a busy intersection.  the light was yellow, just turned red. The guy was practically running a red light. He made eye contact. I made eye contact. He saw me and I saw him.  Rather than slowing down so all the pedestrians, including the people behind me could cross, he purposefully sped up. His truck just missed pulling me down by less than a foot.

This is where I felt in a quandry: Do I just stand there all shaken up, letting him go on his merry way? (regretting I didn't speak up) Or do I stand up for myself? This time I chose to let him know that he came close. Dangerously close to hitting me. I lightly thumped his truck with my hand. No damage done. I just wanted him to hear me.

I don't know what I expected. I guess I was hoping for some Minnesota Nice.  Maybe an apology or something. Well no. That wasn't quite what I got.  He stopped his truck in mid traffic, just at the end of the intersection, opened his door and started yelling at me. At this point I wondered,  Do I just slink away shyly or stand my ground?  I chose to stand my ground. As calmly as I could and as loud as I said he could have hit me and he needs to be considerate for pedestrians. Angerly he yelled back that he didn't need to stop for pedestrians.

As I finished crossing I spoke softly that he really needed to be considerate. The pedestrians behind me nodded quietly in agreement.


Then  the unexpected. Some lady came out of nowhere, asking me questions.  At this point I wasn't sure what to do, but react as calmly as I could. I restated that he should have been more considerate and could have hit someone.  In return I got called strong names and shoved.  I didn't fight back. I just continued walking, leaving the lady behind and the man to drive off and yell some more harassing comments.

I wonder what if they had hit me, what they would have done? Would they have been more upset to have blood on their car and possible charges and jail time to contend with? Or worse, if there was an old lady in my place? Would they have stopped for an old lady? Would they have ran her over?

The nerve some people have.  I just had to vent. A little bit of consideration goes a long way.


That all said, I still don't know if I did the right thing. I don't know if the situation could have been handled any better.  I guess if I had risen up my hand and waved a single finger salute rather than lightly thumping his truck, I would have most likely still have gotten the same response. If I didn't speak up, I'm sure they would have done the same to the next person crossing the street.  Well they probably still will try to run over pedestrians. I don't know. I guess I'll have to pick a better time to cross the street, but it was broad day light and I still really need to get to the bank before it closes.

Update

The last I heard of my mom was that she's in a woman's shelter. I hope the best, that she will be open to help and not return to said abusive relationship.  But I remain skeptical how long it will last.

The best cure for autism

I work at the Mall of America. Ever so often I come to work to find people involved in various autism walks throughout the year.

I read their shirts and messages.  One was "beating autism one peace at a time."  Another was "I am a teacher to someone with autism and I have autism too."

Somehow that got me into thinking questions I would answer if someone were to interview me. For the most part people could argue that I've been cured. I don't appear autistic. No one would really guess, besides say a few awkward moments,  or people living with me.  No I haven't been cured. I still have autism, but I've found ways to adapt.

So what is the best cure to autism?

Self awareness.
Why?

If one can become aware of limitations and triggers, then they can take steps to reduce it. Even head off meltdowns before they get to crisis.

But self awareness isn't something that can be taught. It's a process.  It starts with learning how to communicate.

Communication is another "enemy" to autism.  If one can communicate what they are thinking, it eases a lot of stress.  Trying to keep everything inside one's head is tiring to say the least.

Anyways these were a few thoughts. It's a bit of an over simplification. For those with the more severe forms, getting here may be really difficult, but it is my hope that some day everyone with autism will be able to communicate.

Jungle Gremlins of Java

Years ago my mother was encouraging me to watch videos of Slow lorises being tickled. She wanted me to look up photos. She wanted me to see just how cute they were. To me the video looked like either the poor thing was being stupidly cute or something had to be wrong with it. Neither got me excited. I couldn't share my mother's joy.

Watching this video has changed my opinion of them.
Slow Lorises aren't just stupidly cute fuzzballs, begging to be tickled and cuddled. They are carnivorous, can eat things larger than them. They are active only at night. Their mouth and armpits contain toxic venom. This venom makes wounds that fester and won't heal. They are fast moving animals that cover a lot of ground in a single night. They scare away bears and kill leeches.

Now that's an animal I can enjoy.

It is sad just how the pet trade is driving this amazing animal to extinction. Tragic. And we never even got to know them. Really.

Writing Dilemma - 1st or 3rd person

Though it wasn't always a simple decision whenever I started a story, I used to think I had it figured out.
It sort of came natural to get inside a character's mind and share the narrator's limited viewpoint. As a result I used to enjoy writing in 1st person. I still do.

However as I got to developing other characters and a more complex story, it no longer became a cut and dry decision. I tried to compromise by switching between viewpoints (splitting off on chapters) and a 3rd person voice to bridge the gaps.

Now in 2011, as I'm rewriting parts of the story, I'm contemplating if it is worth dropping off that 1st person cliff and using 3rd person for most, if not all of the stories. I'll greatly miss the 1st person voice, but the 3rd person voice may work out better in the long run. It's a trade off as with any decision.

When I am unsure of something , I turn to the web and do a search. I like to see what other people have to say on the same matter. This posting helped push me over that cliff.

That said, I'm trying it out. I've conducted a few trial stories using 3rd person limited to a character or a couple of characters. I've done it before, various years. So far the results have been pleasing with most attempts. It may not be much of a loss to make the switch from 1st to 3rd person narration. I'll see.


So far I notice these differences with my own writing:

1st person: easy to get into the thoughts of a character. I can write what the character is thinking. What the character is feeling, not so much. I can write what the character thinks he or she is feeling. Things like body language tend to get dropped off. It's hard to see what the narrating character is doing when they are talking or thinking. At least I find it harder. The narrator becomes an "existence". At least that is my best attempt at describing the experience of living as a sentient being taking in all the outside stimuli and making sense out of my environment.

3rd person: Body language of the character becomes much easier to describe. What the character is feeling also becomes easier to describe. It is easier to break through situations where the character doesn't know what they are feeling or think they feel one way but really feel another. (unless the character's internal confusion is something I want to play off, then that effect seems to get lost easier than in 1st person) But getting into the thoughts of the character seem to be trickier. I can do it, but it feels more distant and doesn't make as much sense. But this distance may not be a bad thing. Just takes getting used to. Limiting to one character at a time helps to keep some mystery about other characters as well as the whole plot (something that is nice with 1st person). I also get the "existance" without having to be involved in the story (so to speak).

I'm interested to see what your viewpoints are on 1st and 3rd person narrated stories? Which do you prefer to read?

A moment of wondering

Sometimes dreams die hard. I'm in a pensive mood right now. I've been working on a story since probably about 1995. It's grown through leaps and bounds as I've grown up and revised it. A single story developed into a whole series. I dream of making something out of it, but... The opportunities are just not there. I wonder if I should keep on hoping I'll find an agent for it and get some of the work published...or if I should just make a blog and publish it free on the internet? The latter would make sure that people get a chance to read the story, but it also means the end of my dream of seeing it in a published book form. I'm coming to the terms my story may never be popular enough for the mainstream to enjoy. After all, insect like creatures are a hard sell... It would take a very small percentage of the population to enjoy.



No matter what, one thing is for certain is that I can't stop writing it. I've grown attached to the characters and enjoy working on their struggles. I entertain myself by writing in a simple MS word (now Open office) document. Occasionally I sketch and paint out rough illustrations.

2011

A new year. First month almost over in a day. Darn. Where did all that time go? Anyways I am trying to get back into writing as I haven't really had time to take pictures this winter. Dusting off my old rough drafts from 2007/2008. It's amazing what I find. I think I was a better writer then...but then again there are also things needing revision. Some revision needs are huge and others are just plain annoying little awkward errors.

For those just tuning into my blog or stumbling upon it, I write stories about insect people. These guys aren't the creepy icky looking things you find outside. They are people with insect-like features, without the creepy mandibles. One of those great things that bothered me was what I called the older workers taking care of the children in the colony. I called them "Caregivers" but I feel "Guide" is more suited to their role.

Interestingly when I started writing this whole thing (back in 6th and 7th grade, wow!) I used to call them "Guides". Now I am going back. There are other things to sort out, but I'll take those things as I come to them. Most notably their history, and other things I rather not spoil by saying here. If you stumble upon samples in my blog that show inconsistency, that is probably why. I plan to go back and change the story samples on my blog (Artwork and writing), but it may be a while yet. My priorities are working on the actual rough drafts.

This guy looks like he can answer just about any question you may have about ant folk....


Or maybe not. LOL.

Jumping off a cliff - with microsoft

I need a new computer. It goes so slow, doesn't do HD video streaming well. Not to mention the hard drive is making unusual noises. I've been putting up with a compaq presario, from like since 2003. I've seen enough screen shots and heard enough of windows vista that I know to stay clear...I'm not sure windows 7 is much better. My software is out of date. My keyboard(s) are shot. The mouse still works okay,though takes up a usb port. The next best thing, I figured is to go ahead and make the switchover to a mac.

Now that I ordered one,I anxiously wait and prepare to rebuild my system and get the software I need. it may take a while. I don't do credit cards or charge if I can avoid it. I buy big things by saving my money and not spending it all on little things like ordering lunch every day. Bag lunches are cheaper. Having no car is a pain, but that also means no gas to pay for and no insurance to have to pay on it either. If all goes to plan,and no unplanned events/expenses occur, I shall be able to buy photoshop CS in another month or two.

There are some things I will miss. Petz used to be one of my favorite games and time wasting projects. I haven't played it in years, so I doubt I'll miss it any more than I do now. Some other games will be lost, but then again I probably could still find mac versions of those old games that are even better(bugdom.)If not, then it isn't really a big deal. After all the main thing I want it for is to operate photoshop (CS5) and whatever else I wish to do with my art and photography.

Leap Frogging Buses

I'm not sure what it is "officially" called. The scenario: You're waiting at a bus stop. The bus comes. Right behind it is another bus of the same route number.
How did that happen? Was it a mistake? Did one driver fall behind schedule and then end up near the bus behind them by 15-20 min or did the driver get ahead of schedule and then meet up with the bus that would have been in front by about 15-20 min? Then the all important question: Should you enter the first bus or the bus right behind it?

Whenever my dad came across the situation, he advised me to take the rear bus, thinking that the one in front is overloaded with people and behind. When I am in the situation it seems either bus I take ends up full and takes longer than the other, or that both get pretty close to my desired stop at about the same time. It seems they take turns as the front/rear bus anyway. Maybe I am just unlucky.

A wow moment....followed by a darn I wish I had my camera moment

This morning on my way to work, I saw perhaps the most beautiful thing I've seen in my life (or at least in a very long time.) And darn it, it happened to be winter, my least favorite season!

Trees are very beautiful things decorated with leaves that fit each season; green in summer, flame red, orange, and yellow in the fall, and lovely pink, red and white blossoms in the spring, but what about winter? The bare skeletons left behind create an interesting pattern with a lace like quality, but still no leaves. Those trees lucky to have leaves are withered and brown. Pine trees and evergreens are the few that hold any green.

This morning every tree, branch, and shrub was adorned with a new set of leaves - pure white frost. There was something very mystical and unbelievable about it all. Everywhere I looked, it was a perfect scene out of painting, or several paintings. I was nearly in tears. Words could not describe the scene before my eyes. Cloudy skies formed a soft gray backdrop. Everything in the horizon dropped into a thick veil of misty frozen fog. Near the window wispy crystal flakes whipped up and swirled around the air.

The news team referred to it as Hoar Frost (though the term "Rime frost" could also possibly describe the conditions.) Whatever frost it was, was created by the dense fog and the very cold temperatures.

As much as I wanted to savor the moment, my ride ended and I had to go to work. No time for pictures. This time, it was probably good that I didn't have my camera or the time to shoot pictures. Being stuck on the light rail, my attention would have been focused on trying to shoot moving targets. Disappointment with whatever shots I missed or got rendered poorly by movement blur, window reflections and blocked by obstacles would be inevitable. Without the camera, I was left to take in all I could see to create a lasting vivid memory. Still, it would have been nice for blogging sake to have a picture...maybe some day I'll paint one.

LOST

Just saw LOST tonight. Was that ever a weird episode or what? I wasn't really surprised with the plot opening. So far it seems to be sort of going the way I wondered about.

For those who haven't seen it and want a mild spoiler: It looks like it opens up with a couple different timelines; one if things went the way they "should" have if they had fixed everything and if the island wasn't there, and the other with their attempt to change the future failing.
I had a hunch if the characters could fix everything to be the way they wanted, it probably wouldn't be ideal, and that what did happen on the island was probably the best they could get (even considering all the bad things.) Will be interesting to see how this continues thoughout the final series.

It kind of begs the question with our daily lives, if we had the chance to do things over would they really be better?

On a side note, it appears that comment moderation only works with the account that the blog was created with, not the one that I've been using to post lately. Appologies for the delay.

Ever have a weird dream, then go back so some point in time?

Ever wake up from a weird dream, then go through a string of thoughts only to end up with some particular moment of time?

Well this time it was some dream of going back through some place in Appleton, WI. The back yard was flooded like some kind of huge creek. (a little bit of background: these were a string of town homes that had no fences bordering them. I lived there from about age 6 to 10 or 11 years old.) In reality I don't remember any flooding occurring in the back yard of these houses, but it occurs in several dreams enough to make me wonder if it did happen but something I had forgotten. (there was though a creek in a field nearby the houses.)

In some dreams, the flooding is so deep, I can go through with a boat. This time there were all kinds of plants growing in the water. Many of them were invasive species from who knows where. They were choking out the native plants. My goal was to quickly catch some of the native plants and try to put them some place before the weeds could get them. At several points I was reminded how healthy and beautiful everything looked. Even the weeds were admirable, but they were growing fast..almost enough to be able to watch. My time was limited.

The dream shifted to a scene of grandma and I looking through buildings in downtown St. Paul. (in my dreams all cities seem to be painted by a landscape of towering sky-scrapers. Almost never does any city look as it should.) Some reason we were squabbling over a wok. If I were to find a yellow gas burning
stove, she wanted me to give her the wok in exchange for another that could be used on the stove. Whatever....

In the dream, she and I were both looking for apartments. I didn't get to see the outcome, because my dream fizzled out and I woke up at some climatic point... (that always happens?)

Upon waking up and several thought processes later, I was brought back to some time I was riding my bike down some old lady's lawn. Previously I was trying to find some friend's house, but neither she nor I seemed to know what neighborhood she lived in or what her house looked like. I tried to find it based on a sketchy description. Frustrated and to the point of crying, I gave up and headed home. But just in time I glanced over and found a neat looking huge backyard owned by an old lady.

Her lawn composed of a really steep hill. It was well mowed and provided the ideal place to just glide down with ones bike. It gave a great thrill, but not dangerous enough to fall or run into anything. It was just what I needed after a frustrating time. For a moment I forgot how upset and frustrated I was and had a great time.

Whatever the case, the owner wasn't impressed. She came out and had an impressive, over the top, fit. I mean, like as if one couldn't do any crime worse than do a little damage to her great amazing lawn. Forget murder or terrorism... This was the top crime anyone could ever imagine. She yelled out in a fit of rage, "I'm gonna call the cops! Get off my lawn now or I'm gonna call! I'm calling the cops right now!" This lady was shaking both her fists in the air, probably stomping her feet as well.

I didn't really get to study her interesting behavior. Utterly terrified at the the thought of being handcuffed and sent to jail, I petaled my bike as fast as I could out of her lawn and far away from her sight. Miraculously I got home safely.

Even then as a 10 year old, I felt like I did something seriously wrong. It wasn't the fact I trespassed into some old lady's lawn. (legally it is a crime.) It was that I failed to speak up and potentially make a difference in someones life. Once again I was rather cowardly and took the easiest way out, rather than speak out.

I had met this lady before. I was with my dad at the time and we talked. At the time she owned a chunk of land. She was trying to keep it rather neat, didn't like some teenagers coming in with their beer bottles, etc.. I expressed I didn't like them either. (they liked to scare and harass me.) My dad brought up about the developments going on with the field. The DNR had regulations against developing land so many feet from a creek. The land was considered a wetland and was supposed to be protected. The developers were illegally filling in the land so they could develop it later. The lady expressed that she was keeping her land until the value went up so she could sell it. At least that's what I picked up with my 10 year old mind. She was interested in selling it to be developed, with little interest about keeping it for the environment. I may have mentioned to her my concerns, but it was irrelevant to the story.

This was a women that needed something, perhaps a childhood... In my 10 year old mind if I could do this moment over, I would not have fled. Now as an adult I am left wondering, what if... Maybe it would form the basis of an interesting story. If I were to write it in a story it would be something like this:

Gathering up all the courage I had, I walked my bike up the steep hill. Meanwhile the lady continued to hurl threats about calling the cops. Perhaps she did. But for some reason, this time I wasn't afraid. I had a mission to follow. This mission was to help this old lady. Why help an old lady? I didn't know. Something inside me wanted this. I stopped in front of the little old lady. She was barely as tall as me, if not a little shorter. For a moment she stopped yelling and looked surprised.
"Why are you standing here?"
Lost for words, I stood there for a few seconds. She continued, "Didn't you hear me? I'm calling the cops."
"I was just having a little fun," I answered timidly.
"This is my lawn," she responded grumpily, "You're not supposed to be here on someone elses' yard."
"Where you ever a child?" I asked suddenly. The old women was taken aback. What a stupid question. Of course she was. Offended, she frowned even more than she already was.
"What does that have to do with this? Of course I was."
"Have you ever ridden your bike down a hill?" I asked.
"Not someone elses' hill," she answered. For once she looked less angry. Perhaps she was feeling sorry for me. "Don't you have a playground or some swings to play on around your house?"
"No," I answered, "they won't allow it." After all, My dad had tried to install a swing set in our lawn. The landowner forced him to take it down. There were no parks that I could walk to by myself. The closest one was kind of a distance and I would have to cross a busy street.

The old women looked even sorrier than ever. For once she realized, this kid must not have what she used to have. This was a child trying to build happy memories. On her lawn. What harm could it do? Quickly the women thought about other concerns. What if the child got hurt? Would the parents sue? How could she say that in a way a child could understand?
"You could get hurt," she stated.
"I have my helmet," I answered, "I should be alright." Without hesitation, I asked, "Would you like to try?" The old lady looked surprised. How dare a child ask such a silly question? This question had to top the "where you ever a child?" question. What if she got hurt? But then again, maybe it would be worth a risk. If only she had a bike.
"I don't have a bike." she answered.
"I can lend you mine." I offered her my bike.
"I don't fit it," she answered. With some hesitation she thought. There was a moment of awkward silence.
"You can ride your bike on my land, but please ask me first. I don't want you to get hurt."
"Sounds good to me," I answered.

Some time time after meeting the strange child, the old lady decided she'd get a bike. Just a simple one; single speed, banana shaped seat, basket in the front, with some streamers on each handle bar. It had a nice shiny magenta-pink finish. Mustering all the courage an old woman had, she secured her helmet, knee and ankle pads, sat on her bike, and petaled at top speed down the hill...

"Wheeeee!"

Opening Doors for People: Is It a Nice Thing to Do or Just Plain Stupid?

My rant for the day... I was waiting to be picked up by the cab from my Psychiatrist appointment. I didn't feel like sitting down, so I paced around the main entrance of the building. Since I was standing/pacing near the door I felt the impulse to be nice and open the doors for a few people. I figured why not; that it would be rude for me to just stand there in the doorway doing nothing.

Each time was an epic fail. They either opened the next door, ignored me, or looked at me like I was a complete idiot. None of them said thanks. Okay the last one did when I offered to open the door, but turned me down. I left the moment feeling really let down. Yeah I expected to be thanked in some way. It reassures me that I am doing the right thing and it encourages me to continue. If I don't get that verbal feedback, then I feel a bit like what I'm doing must be utterly pointless. Or is it an autistic moment cropping it's ugly head?

Maybe I'm getting something wrong... Okay I guess it's time to do a nerdy google search for social stories and see if there happens to be any "do and "don'ts" to opening doors for people in public buildings. Though right now I don't feel up to it. I just won't open any more doors for people in that same building again. Problem solved.

Hello 2010, goodbye typing 00 years.

Very belated post as always. Lately I only go here if there is something on my mind and I can't get it off. I guess that's what venting is and why blogs are good for venting.

2009 finished with so many things I could fill several pages. Anyways here are some highlights of 2009 (the ending months.) It's still a marathon post, but considering that I neglected to update my blog the last several months, I guess it evens out.

Late October?, I got a new job. I work at the Mall of America, in Bloomington, MN. Not only do I work there but I also work for the mall. I find that pretty cool. Even if MOA is no longer the biggest mall in America, it is still considered a landmark of a sort. It's kind of a nifty thing to brag about I guess. Not everyone can say they actually work for such a great place and see it printed on their paycheck stubs. Not to mention one huge thing. I get paid $9 an hour. For an "entry level" job, this is nothing to sneeze at. I work part time, so it's not like I am wealthy by any means, but it's nice that I am able to actually save up for the DSLR camera I really want/need. Plus I can a few other odds and ends that I wouldn't otherwise be able to get. New shoes, bath stuff, accessories, Christmas gifts for my family. Not to mention the basic can't live without items. The list goes on.

I also get the fun chance to meet a variety of people, some of them rather interesting characters (to say the least.) The stuff we sell, IMHO is over priced, taxed up the wazoo, but considering how much employees get paid (full time workers also appear to get some medical benefits) and the rather slow business I've been getting, it probably evens out. So next time you have to pay about $20 for a set of photos and some key chains, maybe this can help put the price into perspective. (cheapest photo deal is presently $10.66, including tax. You get a choice between a 6x8, two 4x6, or 4 wallets. If you find a coupon you can get a single 6x8 print at half the price.)

Nevertheless, I'm hired as a "seasonal" (aka disposable laborer). My time is about to come to an end in a few weeks. I'm hoping that I get to stay longer, but it depends on both performance and if they have the demand, making enough profit to keep any additional workers. Performance wise, I believe I've met expectations, even exceeded them. I'm not worried about my performance, but performance alone may not be enough... On average week days I don't make enough to pay my salary. Weekends, Saturdays I make just enough to get close, break even, or make a small profit for the mall. If other workers are not having better luck then...Oh well at least I have the experience I can put on my resume, and I will likely have good references to add.
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November, we lost a cat. Sahib, my grandma's cat passed away after suddenly developing a urinary blockage. It didn't clear up despite having him catheterized for a week. For a day it looked like he cleared up enough to go home. The next night he blocked up again, and to be rushed to the emergency vet clinic.

The cost to keep him alive for another night was too much for my grandma to pay, not to mention that he would most definitely require surgery and that was in the multiple thousand dollar range. Left up to me, I would have sacrificed all my back paid SSI money that we're keeping in a trust to pay for college (if I can get back in) and paid for the surgery to give him a chance. I believe he would have survived and returned to the same healthy, happy cat we had before post surgery. But, It was not my place to make a decision (though I tried, believe me!). After a rather emotional outburst, I was pretty much forced into allowing my grandma to go through with having him put to sleep. I watched the final moments. It was heart-breaking to watch him struggle to pull the catheter out of his arm before the vet returned.
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*Warning emotional stuff here. You may want to bookmark and read later if you happen to be like me and cry very easily. This is not exactly something you want to read on your work lunch break.*
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Watching a cat die for the first time was quite traumatic. Immediately upon dying, the tail poofs up (like a frightened cat), becomes limp. The pupils dilate. He died with one eye open and one closed. His tail was lowered. I lifted it up and curled it around his back, like he used to naturally hold his tail. Writing this brings me into a crying jag, so I guess I'm not completely over my emotions over this yet... I can't stand to read the rainbow bridge poem, though I liked reading it before. It always brought tears to my eyes upon reading it, but for some reason after having a pet actually cross the bridge, it makes the poem feel a lot more emotional and tough to read. Upon leaving Sahib, my last words to him were "I hope it is true." thinking about the poem. I whispered t a couple times, the words repeating in my head.

He was a great cat. My main regret was not giving him the same attention I give to my cat (Waldo). Some of things that I would do that Waldo hated (or strongly disliked), Sahib loved. it didn't matter to him if I was teasing him or spending serious time. He loved it all the same. For instance if I pet Waldo lightly with my foot, he gets PO ed and lets me know clearly that isn't acceptable behavior. If I pet Sahib with my foot, he just started purring and rolled over, like as if I was petting him with my hand. It made no difference. He loved it the same. If he got enough, he opened his mouth, hung it there for a few minutes, sometimes with a quick meow. He was a very laid back cat, though he was no pushover. He sometimes gave a light warning nip if he felt he had enough. Otherwise he craved attention and was grateful for any he got. If he felt he didn't get his fair share of attention, he sometimes nipped grandma or I in random places, mostly the toes.

I didn't give him as much attention and cuddling as Waldo. Nor did I take as many pictures. I felt I would have a lot more time with him (being the much younger cat at only 4 or 5 years old) and Waldo being older, not as much time. I regret my reasoning. His life showed me a sad lesson; we don't truly know how much time we have with someone.


R.I.P Sahib. I love you and miss you dearly.


The last photo I took of him. I really wish I would have snapped more when he got home, after we thought he overcame his condition.


Shot at the vets office (his regular vet) before going home with two prescription meds and several cans of special diet food. Little did we know he would get blocked up and die the next day without getting a chance to even really use the stuff. Fortunately they allowed us to return the unused meds and food. They gave us back the credit we spent. The hand petting him belongs to my grandma. I couldn't get Sahib to look at the camera.
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2010 opens a new chapter in our lives, in my life. Will it be a good year or a challenging one?

Some big changes are coming up. For one thing I will be moving out into an apartment. I don't know exactly where yet, but it is in the planning stages. I'm a bit worried. There's a lot I'll be giving up. (having a garden one of the main ones. I had great plans on expanding Grandma's garden in the backyard, but that may not happen...). I'm hoping I get to keep Waldo, and be allowed to adopt possibly another cat, ideally a young one to be a companion for Waldo and I.

On a smaller note, I find 2010 to be one really annoying number to type....

When Seasons Collide

When Seasons Collide
Originally uploaded by MJIphotos

Been a loooong time since I last posted. Like I've mentioned before, many of of my thoughts haven't gotten to the writing down phase.

This summer I challenged myself by going out and taking photos every day if possible. Sometimes I missed a day or two, but generally I kept to my goal. I've been uploading my favorites through flickr.

Autumn I planned to continue my goal that I set in the spring/early summer. Have I stuck to it? Not as well. Seems MN has been getting slammed with some really unseasonably cold weather, not to mention cloudy and rainy. On the news they stated this may possibly be a record cold October with the average high being only about 40 something degrees, much lower than the average highs in the 60's.

Already we've had two snowfalls. In a way I feel kind of cheated. Was looking to shoot a bunch of firey trees with full autumn color. (ideally with blue sky as a backdrop.) Well that didn't happen most of October so far.

Ash trees have already shed their leaves. They dumped them after the first snow on the 10th without even fully changing. Some maples have done about the same. Featured here is the 2nd snowfall from October 12th. As much as I hate to admit it, the snow created some of the most awesome dramatic autumn shots I've taken so far. That is if I can call it "autumn". Seems quite a confused mash-up of seasons, with most trees still in their "summer" colors.


On a side note now that I finally figured out how to get a post on here using flickr, I hope to post more often.

Moment of Clarity?

I visited my parents in Milwaukee last week, saw some old friends and visited the church I was in. The video crew members were eager to see me. I was thinking it would be really cool if I could do one of the cameras, but didn't hold my hopes high. It would be unrealistic to expect them to not have everyone scheduled arrive on the Sunday I visited. Well sure enough they had an empty spot, so I took advantage. It was amazing even after 2 years of not operating a video camera, I still was able to follow directions and pull it off as if I had done it just the week before.

More photos from the train ride on the way to Milwaukee.





Flowers from my friend's back yard:

Photos from the neighborhood in Milwaukee:


I'm in a good mood at the moment. Thinking back over things and looking over my most recent photos I feel like for the first time in a while that I truly have a gift in something and the passion to pursue it. For me showing off my work has been one of my toughest struggles. I'm proud of my stuff, but what if not everyone has the same thrill looking at it that I do? Then what do I do?

That's been one of my hang-ups lately. Right now at this moment it doesn't seem to have the negative effect it has other times. I feel strong. I feel like going out around the neighborhood taking random pictures, annoying neighbors, and getting awesome shots of flowers, bugs, birds, trees - whatever catches my eye. I did just that these last few days and the results were pleasing.

Recently I set up a few photo blogs to feature some of my favorite photos. You can find them by clicking the blog roll on the right. Rather than make new blog posts for every new group of photos, I may make blog posts related to themes and edit them to add new photos.


Oh and on an off topic note I found this article rather amusing. I meant to blog about it earlier. I wonder if I should join Twitter just to make a "One post Wonder"?

Perhaps it would read something like this: Let's see, I already have a blogger account, a yahoo group, livejournal blog, a deviantart account, flickr account faceboook account and likely registered with more sites than I can list, so it's no wonder I can't keep track of them all. So many media and so little time and modivation....lol.

But chances are I'd get hooked and be wasting my time on another site...so for now I think I'll wait, but it is sure tempting....

Sleep Study

It's past 2 am and I should be sleeping. Ironically talking about the sleep study I had "last" night (that would be the night between this Tuesday and Wednesday).

They stuck wires and stuff to my skin and hair with lemon scented paste. To secure the wires they put two belts around me, one around my stomach and the other just above my breasts. The wires connected to a box with all kinds of plugs. I looked like a human robot, plugged in just about like an electric appliance. Not only that but I had a glowing red sensor stuck to my right pointer finger and a prong like sensor stuck to my nose. Of course they had a camera monitoring me the whole night....

Needless to say not much sleep occurred that night.... They probably got lovely footage of me playing "ET" with my glowing finger. I was kicking my legs around, thrusting my arms, and scratching at the wires, tape, and stuff that were really annoying me. The nose thing had to be top on the list... Since I sleep under the covers, they probably saw what may have resembled a "Mexican Jumping Bean" bouncing under the covers. Or a big lumpy blanket coming to life.

It was also very cold in the room. I had to call them to unplug me so I could take a stop at the bathroom. (you can't just get up and go when plugged in.) I let them know it was too cold. They gave me a couple more blankets. Not long then I felt too hot....


I hope I don't have to do the study over. At least I did finally conk out likely around 5:30 or 6:00 am.... We will see. On the plus side at least I enjoyed watching Animal Planet, a channel we don't have with just basic rabbit ears + converter box...

It's been a while; Autism related entry

It's been a while since I've last updated my blog of an autism related issue. Some things came up and in order to move on I have to get them written out. I may have spoken a lot of this in past entries, but it is good to have a refresher once and a while. Since autism varies from person to person, I share from my personal experience. Some may relate and some may not.

Anyways my emotions are hot. I'm feeling in a panic over the feeling of having no one to talk to right now (at the time I am typing this) over what most would consider a minor issue. In order to understand the sense of panic I feel when something little comes up, imagine if you just suddenly got news that your best friend, mom, dad, or whoever means the most to you, has been in a car accident or had a heart attack and is in the hospital. You get the initial call that happened, but then are on nerves waiting for an update.

Let's say it's not possible for you to reach the hospital. There's no number to call, heck you don't even know where they went. You don't know anything besides those few details. Depending on how fatal the news sounded and how much the person meant to you, I can imagine you are pacing around, biting your nails, crying uncontrollably, whatever people do when they feel a sense of hopeless panic.

This is how I feel over minor problems. I have the same intensity of emotion, the panic, everything. Often I am told to be patient. If you're mother is dying in a hospital an you aren't aware of where she is, I would imagine being told to be patient would probably be one of the last things you want to be told.

When I am trying to describe to people this sense of panic I feel, I am often put down, or even worse made to feel like I am causing trouble. I can't help the sense of panic I feel. I acknowledge I can have control over what I do in the panic. After all anyone facing a situation like the one I described can control how they behave, but it is very...very difficult. The mind is not there. The heart is racing, the breaths are shallow and the eyes gushing with unwanted tears. It's really hard to control one's behavior at this point of stress.

I used to know one autistic man who must have felt this kind of panic when they changed his routine at a group home he lived. Either that or he had to move to a place where they couldn't keep up to his routine. He had to have a shower taken a certain day and time of the week. One week they couldn't do it at the right time. He had to have his shower taken another day. As a result he got terribly angry, upset, hurt, and violent. He broke at least one of their windows by smashing it. After all to him it had to have felt like his whole world crashed that day.

I'm not that severely upset when changes happen, but I will feel dismayed and feel like I've just been dropped off in the middle of nowhere, in a strange place and left to find my way home with no direction... Depending on my mood, this panic can create a full crying spell and a meltdown. I don't like surprises. Also if I am left without explanation for things, then I'm left confused. My mind doesn't take confusion well. If I don't have a solid explanation, my mind will go over past events that seem similar to the event I am in. It pairs up some usually really negative and disturbing incidents. Common feelings that will show up when I am in a mental state of confusion over an event: rejection, people are deliberately against me because I am a freak. They know it. They can tell. Even by one glance or by reading my written word, they know I'm not one of them. Those people know... they see through me. They have in the past. I've been rejected. My mind pulls up concrete memories to prove it. Therefore this situation is no different. I don't fit in. I never will fit in. I don't have a niche... The negative speech continues into some kind of mantra. There is no easy way to shut it off once it starts.

Usually when I try to explain this to people, or if I worse yet, react out of these emotions, it triggers anger. In turn when people snap about my reaction, then it feeds the feeling of "they don't like me because I am different." and then I react even more apprehensive. This kind of miscommunication keeps going until either I or the other person reaches breaking point and one of us ends up severing communication and possibly leaving the scene. On web forums, it may drive one of us to perminantly leave the site.

Why does this happen? I used to be left really confused until I heard from other people who studied the field of autism as well as reading up some articles. I found out that when an autistic person gets riled up by emotion, it floods the brain with more activity than it would for a non autistic person. I wish I could find the exact articles I read to link to, but if you look down meltdowns and autism, you may get a general idea. After all these emotions are likely the driving force behind most of the major meltdowns someone has with autism.

I hope this sheds light into some of the conflicts I get into, and hopefully help give some insight for those curious to know more about autism, emotions, and meltdowns. Anyways I feel a bit better getting this down. The sense of panic has lessened a bit.