Dude, I'm An Aspie.

AutismCorrect

2012-01-29T10:19:00.001-05:00

Rawr

2012-01-22T10:05:00.000-05:00

Cheer Factor

2012-01-15T11:18:00.000-05:00

The Gift of Adventure

2011-12-25T11:37:00.000-05:00

I have been thinking about this post from thautcast: The Best Gifts for Autistic People: Experiences.

The very best gift you can give any autistic person, especially a child, is an experience.

It is especially important to take kids with autism out into the real world to see and interact with real things...

[T]hey can be especially challenging for us. We can be especially challenging during them.

But we need to go...

These experiences, the ones that give us the world and help us find our place in it, are the gifts we need most.

Please give them to us.

This rings very true for me. I don’t need a lot of stuff. I am saving for a tablet, but what matters most to me at this point is experiences.

Recently I had a memorable travel experience, which I was all but forced to go on. I attended a house party this summer, because my friend invited me. I've had to drag myself into many adventures, some that I was glad to have, and others that were not so successful.

The best gift I could get for myself this holiday would be an experience. What are your suggestions for adventures I can give myself?

Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays!

You've Got Venting

2011-12-11T10:44:00.000-05:00

Meetup Is Murder

2011-12-04T10:24:00.000-05:00

Wishing on a Status

2011-11-27T10:12:00.000-05:00

Down

2011-11-20T10:58:00.000-05:00

Trigger warning: Possibly upsetting subject matter. This post is about a common autistic trait, and what it feels like.

It's Not You

2011-11-13T10:45:00.000-05:00

DNA

2011-11-06T09:44:00.000-05:00

Chasing Typical

2011-11-01T07:07:00.001-04:00

Today is the 2nd Annual Autistics Speaking Day, a day for those of us on the spectrum to make our voices heard, to raise awareness, and to self-advocate through blogs and social media. If you’re a first-time reader, welcome. I encourage you to read as many points of view as possible today. Then, if you wish, join me in turning your support into action, by making a charitable donation to an autism organization of your choice, such as ASAN.

This is a day for autistic pride. We have so many reasons to be proud. Yet it remains difficult to be as proud as we should. Because for all the awareness we raise, we still feel like aliens on this planet. We do not fit in. It is hard to be proud, when many of us carry with us a sense of shame. If you are a neurotypical (NT), I would like you to understand where this shame comes from. Because every day, however unintentionally or implicitly, you expect us to behave as neurotypicals do. This is an expectation we cannot meet.

I have been told, throughout my life, I have so much potential. I could do so much more. If only I would learn to be more outgoing. I heard it as a child, before anyone knew I was autistic. I still hear it as an adult, from people who know I am an Aspie.

In school, I was an A student. I had “outstanding” math ability, “far exceeded my peers” in grammar, and was “a prepared and excellent test-taker.” In art class, my teacher said of my talent, “Such expressions of beauty and acute perception reveal a mind and soul of rare sensitivity.”

I was a good student. Good, but not good enough.

I would not take part in class discussions, they said, because I “found the contradiction or assent of others too risky.”

I had made “a decision to not communicate orally,” which “stifled my development.”

I was “unmotivated” to discuss class material, “refused to get involved,” and “had no debating skills other than with pen in hand.”

I was disruptive, disrespectful, and a discipline problem.

Consider the effect of such criticism on a middle school age child who was also a victim of bullying by his peers. It was for my own good, they said. These flaws would hold me back in life, and what a shame that would be.

“I can’t do what you ask,” I told them.

“Not can’t,” they said. “Won’t.”

They were so sure. Scornful, even. As if my choice was obvious. As if I was sitting on a treasure chest full of potential, and chose not to unlock it to see what was inside.

No one had heard of Asperger’s back then. But I suspected that I was different. There had to be some reason I could not do these things others found so basic. It would be some 20 years before autism gave it a name.

But at the time, I could not help but develop a sense of self-doubt. A sense I would never be good enough. A sense of shame.

As an adult, learning about the autism spectrum lessened this burden somewhat, but not completely. Our world is an NT world. It will always be an NT yardstick we are measured by. Our world values smiles, phone conversations, small talk, and fitting in with the group. It values extroverts.

As an adult, I continue to receive constructive criticism, well-intentioned, to help me reach my potential. I’m not enough of a leader. I’m not assertive enough. Not engaging or friendly enough. It still hits like a punch in the gut.

I can explain now, that I am autistic, and I may not meet these expectations. I am glad to say people are more understanding, when they know. It still bothers me though, to fall short. It hurts to have to say, “I’m sorry, I can’t do what you ask.” Not because I am defiant, or think I am special, or know better than you, or am not trying. I am differently abled, though I may not look it. “Different, not less,” is still a long way from being reality.

I’m reminded in indirect ways, too, that I fall short of the NT ideal. I’m reminded, every time your conversation swirls around me, and I’m not a part. I’m reminded, when you can’t read my mood by my expression. I’m reminded, in your moment of surprise that I didn’t anticipate what you were thinking. I look like you, but I do the unexpected. I can confuse you, and I feel guilty for that.

I also must allow for the possibility that in fact, I can, and should, be working to improve my social weaknesses. Everyone is capable of self-improvement. I don’t believe being an Aspie should give me a "free pass" against anything I find too hard. Could I be a leader if I tried? Could I have better phone skills? I don’t know. I’m not sure where the line is between “can’t” and “won’t.”

On this Autistics Speaking Day, my hope is that by sharing my point of view, NT’s may understand why I will not always meet your expectations. As one of my readers recently put it, “Too many people are not aware of how far out of our ‘skin’ we go to do things sometimes. Some of them don't realize how it is to push yourself on things that come easy for them.”

It will always be an NT world. Despite the progress we have made in autism awareness and education, I still feel that I am “chasing typical,” looking for something more that will “complete” me. Is there more of my potential inside that locked chest? Or is there nothing but an empty box? Maybe all that potential is already here, outside the box. Maybe I am squandering what I already do best, in chasing after something more that might be inside.

My hope is that a day will come when I no longer have to compare myself to the NT ideal. When I can stop chasing after what I can’t do, and start going full speed ahead at what I can do well. When I am truly free to be different, not less.

To read more posts from participants in Autistics Speaking Day, please visit the AS Day blog or Facebook page.

The Skeleton Dance

2011-10-30T11:01:00.001-04:00

When I was a kid, it was not Halloween without "The Skeleton Dance." In school, we would sit on the floor and they would show it on the big projection screen.

When I was 10, I commemorated this annual ritual with some "Skeleton Dance" doodles.

The one in the top right that's erased, I think I was trying to show them doing the knee thing at 4:34, but it was too hard to draw.

So please enjoy "The Skeleton Dance" this Halloween. If you like, make your own Skeleton Dance doodles with your kids. You can post them to my Facebook page or tweet them to me from now till 11:59 PM October 31. I'll choose my favorite one, and that person wil win a custom avatar of your choice drawn by me.

Have a happy and ghoulish Halloween!

Autism Among Us

2011-10-26T19:35:00.000-04:00


Having Asperger's, like Shane Mizell, means sometimes blending in, sometimes not.

“He’s so rude.”

“That guy must be retarded.”

“He’s just strange!”

Shane Mizell knows other people see him this way, although he’s none of these things. But first impressions form quickly when he’s bagging groceries at the supermarket, sitting in the stands at a baseball game, or just walking down the street. Most people would never suspect that Shane, 21, has an autism spectrum disorder.

“People with autism don’t often have ‘a look,’ so they’re not as easily identified,” says Heidi Mizell, Shane’s mom, who became all too familiar with others’ misunderstandings in the course of raising her son. “Our children look so ‘normal,’ and when they have an unexpected behavior, the public is critical and judgmental.” Indeed, when you meet someone who blends in one minute and appears “different” the next, how to react?

Autism is a spectrum, with mild and severe forms. Shane’s diagnosis of Asperger’s syndrome means he meets many, but not all criteria for autistic disorder. He has difficulty socializing with peers, verbalizing his thoughts, and knowing what someone else is thinking. But even mild autism comes with severe challenges.

When Shane was younger, teachers misread his behavior. “He would be paying attention when it appeared he wasn’t,” Heidi recalls. “He’s one of those kids who needs to fidget to listen, or ‘not look’ to listen.” His teachers were simply unaware a person with autism will typically not look someone in the eye. This is not out of rudeness; they simply prefer to concentrate by processing one of their senses at a time.

Autism is not a disease, but a neurological condition. The autistic brain is slower to recognize social signals like facial expressions, gestures, and tone of voice, and all the subtle information they contain. Ambiguity or surprises can be upsetting, as can crowds or noise. Shane describes it as sensory overload.

“It feels like everything’s starting to surround me,” he explains, “And I need to get to somewhere quiet and calm, and stay there for the rest of the day.” If removing himself from the location is not an option, he may “shut down” and be silent.

People with autism may also appear to have “super senses” due to a highly sensitive brain. “I can hear things that people usually wouldn’t hear,” Shane says. “Really high pitched sounds. I have to point to it and say, ‘I can hear that!’” But sometimes people don’t believe him, he says with a laugh, so he stopped pointing out his super-hearing.

Shane also interprets things literally. Due to a neurological delay in reading others’ tone of voice, people with autism are slower to detect sarcasm or idioms, as Heidi learned on one memorable trip.

“I have to watch how I say things. We almost had an incident in New York City. He stopped in the middle of the street when I told him to ‘walk on ahead.’ He just stopped, because he thought that was humorous!”

Despite its challenges, autism has positive aspects. People with autism tend to be honest, detail-oriented, and good problem-solvers. Often, they focus on a specific subject and achieve high levels of success. But other times, their strengths go unnoticed.

At his supermarket job, Shane has been assigned to bag groceries or retrieve carts. He’d like to do more, like stocking shelves, but doubts they’d trust him with the responsibility.

“I could probably do a lot more. I’m used to being able to do lots of stuff,” he says, unsure of how to approach his supervisor about it. “I’m like the other people. I’m not a different person.”

Families like the Mizells hope to raise awareness and increase the public’s comfort level in interacting with people with autism. After all, many are already among us in everyday life. Most of all, Heidi says, people with autism deserve the same respect as others.

“I like to talk to my friends with autism directly. You can talk directly to somebody with autism. I think many people would prefer to be talked to, than at.”

Shane, for his part, takes his differences in stride. Anyone who takes time to know him will see he is intelligent and polite, with his own sense of humor. Those who don’t take the time, don’t bother him.

“I really could care less about what they think,” he says. With a condition as “invisible” as autism, a little knowledge and respect can go a long way.

This article appears as a leadup to Autistics Speaking Day. On November 1, 2011, autistic people, along with our non-autistic allies, will take a stand in support of autism awareness and autism allies and speak out about our experiences. Visit Autistics Speaking Day on Facebook for more information.

Inertia Weevil

2011-10-23T10:15:00.000-04:00

What is autistic inertia? Find out more.

The Language of Autism

2011-10-19T18:28:00.000-04:00

Christian Smalls, 6, uses the PECS system at school.

Christian Smalls is like a foreign exchange student at age 6. In his world, everyone, even his parents and teachers, uses verbal speech. Christian, who has autism, is nonverbal. Just as he is trying to learn their language, they are trying to learn his.

Many believe children and adults with autism do not communicate at all. In truth, people with autism are more like foreign language speakers. And today, there are many ways for us all to bridge the communication gap.

All of us use alternative forms of communication every day. Body language, gestures, handwritten notes, and social media are like “second languages” that supplement our oral speech. Autistic people who cannot effectively express themselves verbally may prefer one of these alternatives.

Body language may be the most convenient means of expression, but is not always easy to interpret. For instance, Christian’s head-shaking can either mean he’s tired, or trying to relax, says his father, Jerome. Even children who can talk, like Justin Turner, who is 13 and has Asperger’s, may prefer to point when they want something. “We have to remind him, ‘You need to say something,’” says Justin’s mother, Kim. But body language may not always be communication.

“Communication involves two people: Somebody in a ‘listener’ role and somebody in a ‘speaker’ role,” says Dr. Susan Peterson, psychologist at the Delaware Autism Program. If a child grabs at a cookie, or is talking at the wall and repeating “I want a cookie,” he may or may not actually want to eat. Children with autism often must learn to translate a desperate desire for something into a constructive message directed at an audience.

Besides body language, children with autism may also use tools or technology to communicate. Justin has used an AlphaSmart word processor in school, though it took over a year to get it. Technology access has improved in the ten years since Matthew Collins was Justin’s age, but still remains a challenge. Matthew, now an adult with Asperger’s, had the vocabulary of an 11 year old at age 7, but wasn’t a good speller. A computer program would have helped, says his mother Susan, but he never got full use of it. “The teachers didn’t know how to use it.”

The PECS System

One very promising device has no electronic parts. The Picture Exchange Communication System (PECS) lets a child give a picture to a communication partner when they want food, a toy, or an activity. Rewarding the child with what they want teaches the value of communication. Christian uses the PECS at John G. Leach School to ask to use the computer, use the bathroom, or go on the bus. He can also choose rewards, like listening to music, or sensory activities like popping bubbles. At first, he only used PECS at school, but recently, his family has been trained to use it at home. Until now, Christian has used sign language at home, which is discouraged at school in favor of PECS. Dr. Peterson explains why:

“PECS is immediately understandable to a person that hasn’t had any special training. You could go up to a person in a fast food place with a picture message, to order a hamburger and fries. With sign [language], you have to have a trained audience that understands the signs.”

“It’s not as universal as the picture exchange system,” adds Jerome, who continues to teach Christian signs to use around the house. “So at least him and I will know what he wants.” With the help of the PECS, Christian is slowly learning to construct sentences. His teachers say he is using his voice more and more, along with head shaking for yes and no, and basic signs like “help.”

* * *

Though children receive more attention, adults on the autism spectrum have their own challenges with communication. Adults who remain nonverbal may depend on technology like a text-to-speech device to navigate mainstream society. This can help them do grocery shopping; get assistance in their workplace from an off-site job coach; or self-advocate, like YouTube star Amanda Baggs; says Theda Ellis, Executive Director of Autism Delaware. “A lot of our guys have a lot of intelligence behind that nonverbal mask.”

Adults with milder autism use their own set of communication tools. Chris Voss, 26, who has high functioning autism and works in e-commerce, prefers writing over speaking. “I have the time to gather my thoughts and use better word choices,” he explains.

Annette Harkness, 37, is a health inspector who has Asperger’s and an auditory processing disorder. “Talking on the phone is a pain,” she says. “I prefer email, texting, and instant messaging over a phone call any day.” Both manage to communicate effectively as part of their job, and say co-workers are generally understanding of their differences.

Many adults with autism actively use social media; in fact, some see it as a lifeline. C.R. Phillips, 46, who has Asperger’s, says social media is the only time he does any kind of socializing. “I can talk to other people who are like me,” he says. “They’re more comfortable typing and reading than talking in person.”

“Facebook is essentially 95% of my social life,” says Annette, who also uses it to connect to others with autism.

Chris uses Facebook and LinkedIn, and even met his girlfriend through online dating. “I’ve been able to stay as social as I choose to be, getting the space I need,” he says.

* * *

Understanding a child or adult with autism means understanding how they communicate. “It was a learned process,” Kim Turner says of son Justin. She learned he does well when talking about his special interests, but not as well taking phone messages. But for all its challenges, there’s a special enjoyment in talking with him. “The mystery of it all. Becoming a detective and trying to decode!”

Just as every person with autism is different, the right communication tool will also be different for everyone. Dr. Peterson works alongside parents to find what works for their child, and has seen dramatic improvements after the right tool was found. “When the person that has had extreme frustration - self-injury, aggression, tantrums - has a way to simply ask for something, a lot of that literally melts away.”

“Introducing devices early to children can open a whole new world for them,” adds Theda Ellis. Parents of a newly diagnosed child, often unsure where to turn, can find support from Autism Delaware through parent mentors and workshops.

People with autism are easier to understand if one lets go of the idea that verbal speech is the standard for everyone. Though we don’t realize it, the social behaviors we take for granted can make those who are different feel excluded.

“The world’s very confusing to a person with autism,” says Ellis. “We communicate so much through the look on our face, the tone of our voice, or our body language. If you’re not able to read that, you can’t understand each other.”

Chris Voss believes understanding autism disorders takes patience. “We can be just like everyone else, even if we come off slightly eccentric,” he explains.

Annette Harkness hopes people will not be afraid of autism, and parents will not give up hope for their children. “Being autistic is one of the most challenging experiences for me, and yet it has given me so many gifts, I would never change that,” she says. “I would never want to be cured.”

Jerome Smalls looks forward to Christian being able to talk someday, but for now, being a parent to a “foreign exchange student” isn’t so bad. He jokes that their communication is like Star Trek, where he’s speaking English, and his son is speaking Klingon, but, “He understands me, and I understand him.”

“A kid [with autism] is just like any other kid. They have some difficulties communicating, but a kid is a kid, and they just want to be loved.”

This article appears as a leadup to Autistics Speaking Day. On November 1, 2011, autistic people, along with our non-autistic allies, will take a stand in support of autism awareness and autism allies and speak out about our experiences. Visit Autistics Speaking Day on Facebook for more information.

Dragon

2011-10-16T10:41:00.000-04:00

Here's A Little Post I Wrote. (You Might Want to Read It Note for Note)

2011-10-09T10:10:00.001-04:00

Does anyone worry more than an Aspie?

We worry in everyday situations. In the supermarket checkout, did I get everything I needed? Will I attract attention for holding up the line? At work, will my presentation go smoothly? Did I get that phone message right? Meeting someone for an activity, will they show up, and will we have anything to talk about?

Tony Attwood has said Aspies are very good at worrying, pessimism, and generalized anxiety. He notes that 25% of adult Aspies have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Our anxiety can come in many types – performance, PTSD from being teased or bullied, sensory, social, or controlling and oppositional.*

Worries can get out of control when we don’t have an adequate support network. When a worry becomes overwhelming, we must figure out whether this is an issue worth seeking advice on. If so, the next problem is how, and with whom, to start a conversation about our worry. Social media and pen pals can be a lifeline. If we didn't have these things, we might keep our worries to ourselves.

I have faced many worries in the past year, and moved ahead in spite of them. I worried I wouldn’t find a new job, but I did. I worried I wouldn’t be social at a party, but I was. Yet, I never seem to learn not to worry the next time. A lifetime of data points telling me worry is useless, but I keep on ignoring the evidence.

A friend pointed out to me that two weeks after I worried about being myself, I was giving advice to my readers to do exactly that. Yeah, I know, I contradict myself. “No, no,” she said, “I was happy how the original stressed you turned into the excited you. Advice is only personal and changes based on our experiences.”

Mark Twain said, “I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened.” Indeed, much of the worst in life is, in fact, the worrying. The uncertainty, the what ifs, the things that never become reality.

Leo Buscaglia said, “Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy.” True dat.

What would it feel like to be free of worry? How much more would I appreciate the good things, if I stopped worrying about the bad things that never happened? How much healthier would I be, if I stopped worrying about sicknesses I never had? I had a taste of the worry-free life while I was on vacation, but soon enough I was back to my old ways.

Steve Jobs said, “You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.”

I am not sure I can trust my future dots. I am not sure I can stop worrying. I would like to – it would be the single best thing I could do for myself, and would not cost a thing. If it were only possible.

How do you deal with your worries? What do you trust in?

* Tony Attwood, “Making Friends and Managing Feelings”, 10/20/10

Idiompressive

2011-10-02T10:09:00.001-04:00

Suspend Disbelief

2011-09-25T10:16:00.000-04:00

I have been on the adventure of a lifetime.

In the morning, I’ve risen before the sun, awakening to the stillness, the lapping of the water below, the calls of birds, and the distant tolling of the harbor bell.

In the evening, I’ve sat by the fire, detached from my electronic gadgets and not missing them, instead having conversations, and playing cards.

I've seen water so blue, it stops you in your tracks, unable to avert your eyes.

I’ve been to the top of a mountain where the wind stuns, and the mist hangs in plumes at eye level.

I’ve soared over the water aboard a speedboat, along the coast, the ocean spray against my face, past seals, birds, and sailboats, all cares melted away.

I’ve ventured to a tiny island, completely removed from civilization, exploring with careful steps from rock to rock, an otherworldly place all to myself, knowing I would never return to.

I have seen paradise, I’m quite sure.

All because four months ago, I let my old reality burn.

Ten days ago, I returned from a stay in Northeast Harbor, Maine, with my ten co-workers. This was a staff retreat, at my new job. The one I took after I was laid off. The one I accepted with uncertainty, but with a good gut feeling. The one where I had just begun to settle into a new routine and new culture.

One door closes and another opens, I wrote four months ago. But who in their wildest dreams could have expected this? You just never know, when you take a job, what it might lead to, how it might change your life.

As the Asticou jetted along the water under picture perfect skies on a Monday afternoon, I was awestruck simply to be right here, right now. I marveled at the chain of events that fell into place to make this possible. So unlikely, and yet it was happening. I sat and soaked in the constant whirr and vibration of the boat, the wind and the ocean spray, wearing a stupid silly grin. I just couldn't help it. Because instead of sitting at my office desk in Chadds Ford, PA, I was miles and miles away, seeing this,

and this,

and this.

We took the retreat for team building, and it was undoubtedly a success. There was no curriculum. There was no Power Point. We grew as a team naturally, over the five days, by cooking our meals together, navigating our way in the van, and finding fun things to do. We could be people, not co-workers, and so we got to know each other as people.

I talked at length about Asperger's one night, over appetizers of smoked salmon and crackers, at a restaurant called Red Sky. Peppered with questions, I was happy to answer. I coined a classic phrase, "more time and data points." But one question surprised me:

"How come you don’t ask us questions about our lives? Is it because you’re not interested?"

Oh! I didn't realize. Of course I am interested in you, I explained. I learn about you by listening, observing, and asking when I feel the time is right. Please don't be offended if I don't ask. And on and on, we continued to learn from each other.

I wrote back in May:

It can be hard to find guideposts as that reality shifts and reshapes, but I need only remember to be myself, and be proud of who I am, as a person with Asperger’s. If I can do that, I am sure to emerge stronger from this crisis.

I think I have followed this advice, and I think I have emerged stronger. This week you may have read the story of Justin Canha, who found his place in the workplace. I have found mine as well. Even before we went on this amazing trip.

If you’re on the spectrum and job seeking, my advice to you is to be yourself, and good fortune may yet come your way.

If you’re an employer with an opportunity to hire a neurodiverse workforce, do it. Then give them the opportunity to gel as a team, organically. You don't have to take them to Maine. Just let them be people.

And my old job? My replacement quit after four days. And to my knowledge, only a part-timer has been found to fill the position.

In my bedroom at the cottage in Maine, there was a sign on the dresser. It said, "Suspend disbelief." I left for the trip as a new employee; I returned as part of a team. I came in having traveled very little; I returned with the travel bug, and a promise to myself to travel more. It all seemed unbelievable at times, but I suspended disbelief, and returned with more than I ever thought possible.

Calibration

2011-09-18T10:18:00.001-04:00

To Be You, or Not To Be You

2011-09-11T10:21:00.002-04:00

“Be yourself,” we are often told, when we are worried about fitting in. Ironic advice, when you think about it. Be an individual, to feel comfortable among many?

Being yourself, when you’re an Aspie, can get you in heaps of trouble. A poorly timed meltdown, a missed signal, a split second reaction, can form a lasting impression. “Be yourself,” but not your whole self, lest you offend someone.

Being yourself is sometimes not advisable. There are times we must fit in to survive. We want to fit in at school, or with the company culture. We want to be polite. We want to hang onto valuable relationships.

So we develop different versions of ourselves that we trot out as needed. But being phony takes energy. In squelching authenticity, we fragment. We start to doubt who really is our real self. Is “the real me” so great, if it’s so often censored?

Being yourself, when you’re a person with autism, can mean asking for accommodations or special treatment. This is a struggle. We often think of equal treatment as the ultimate goal of autism awareness, but is that really possible? What we often ask for is to be the exception. We want to be the one who doesn’t have to play dodge ball. We want to be the one who doesn’t have to get up and do a presentation.

Sometimes we can negotiate deals in exchange for being ourselves – do more independent reading that we like, and less outdoor recess that we don’t. Yet in so doing, we further emphasize our difference from the norm, rather than blend in.

There is no easy answer. We learn this from a very early age. Be yourself, or be accepted: we often must choose. And the unanswerable question is: If I cannot be myself, then who can I be?

Misophonia

2011-09-06T18:34:00.000-04:00

misophonia (n): Dislike of sound - especially sounds associated with chomping, slurping, munching, snarfing, slucking, masticating, and other mealtime behaviors - to the point of "instantaneous blood-boiling rage."

When a Chomp or a Slurp Is a Trigger for Outrage

How The Giraffe Came By His Name

2011-09-04T11:21:00.000-04:00

Conversations with Wolves (Willing, Part II)

2011-08-28T10:00:00.010-04:00

My message buddies keep me busy these days. Fascinating conversations with diverse individuals, both Aspies and NT’s. Both, I’ve found, are enthusiastic about permission-based messaging, otherwise known as the New Friend Quickie Mart.

This week I talked with two friends, who I’ll call the Desert Wolf and the Midwest Wolf. Two very different people from different walks of life. We talked of many things. And curiously, the same theme came up, independently, in different contexts.

I talk with the Desert Wolf about travel, adventure, and nature. Anything from animal totems to her desire to drive the Google street view car. Eating is a form of adventure, I say, citing a dinner I cooked with kelp and seaweed – a health food heaven with the addition of quinoa, bok choy, and tofu. Such a nutritious concoction should give me super-powers, shouldn’t it? But so far, not.

Did I forget any ingredients? asks the Desert Wolf. Some mineral or altered meat source? Kryptonite? Genetically enhanced spider?

Oh, yes, *facepalm*, I’ve left out the mutant spider… Well, what super power would I want if I had one? I think I would like to be able to teleport. I could travel anywhere in the world, without booking a flight, or renting a hotel room. Just pop up anywhere for the day and pop back home when I was done.

I’d like to fly, says the Desert Wolf. To see the world, and cruise through space like Superman. Maybe drop in on the International Space Station crew. Yes, flying would be good too. I wonder if it makes one tired? It doesn't seem like many muscles are involved, at least after take-off…

I talk with the Midwest Wolf about dreary workdays, chance encounters, farmer tans, and pretty much anything under the sun, provided it’s in small caps without regard for spelling or sentence structure. The Midwest Wolf likes to throw out deep questions, like, what do I wish I were doing with my life? And, what’s my fav thing about myself? One day it’s, how would I change the world?

I don’t pretend to give it serious thought. Less stupid people… more flavors of ice cream. Problem solved.

My lackadaisical friend is surprisingly thoughtful for a change. “But how do you get rid of the stupid people?” he presses, then puts forth his suggestion: Spread more love. Give the kids a good education; teach them better rather than make the test easier. And of course, ice cream for everyone, and a super secret soldier group to create peace and avert disasters.

Yes, of course! We need The Justice League! How epic would that be? And who would I be if I could be someone from the League? Green Lantern, perchance?...

And so it was, that two disparate conversations each turned to super powers. In between our exchange of the tedious happenings of our day, our likes and dislikes, our life lessons and our regrets, our thoughts turned to flying and saving the world. Fantasy is so much more enticing than reality. It was true when we were young, and perhaps even more true now that we’re grown-ups. There’s a reason why those superheroes are so popular, says the Desert Wolf.

Because we’d all like to have super powers, and the truth behind that is in the non-fantasy content of our conversations. We’d like to be able to put our sleep schedule back on track. We’d like to be able to say magic words to get out of retail and go back to school. We’d like to be blessed with all the knowledge of how to survive an earthquake and a hurricane. We’d like the power to let go of our disappointments. Now those would be real super powers.

But measly civilians are what we are. And what more appropriate reminder of our average-ness, as we sit at our computer screen late at night, typing text to a stranger in a message box, interspersed with the random yellow smiley? At least there is the comfort that we are not alone in being mere mortals, with our all-too-human flaws and worries. And when the Send button casts out our daily ramblings like a bottle into the ocean, another bottle will surely wash up on our shore tomorrow night, returned by a fellow insignificant human.

Name the Giraffe Contest

2011-08-24T19:20:00.000-04:00

He needs a name.

The giraffe is the first new character I created for Dude, who did not come from my childhood cast of characters.

The giraffe is the facilitator of an Aspie support group. He fields many tough questions. Sometimes he has great ideas, other times he is clueless, but he means well. Kind of like real life, no?

You might wonder, why a giraffe? Continuing my long history of audience participation into my character development, I took my question to the Twitter, and there you have it.

The contest winner will receive a custom avatar of your choice drawn by me! (130 x 130 pixels)

Stretch your creative muscles, folks! You have a high standard to live up to. Consider that our current lineup of characters includes a dog named Dinky Doughnuts, a bird named Squishy, and a Fuzzysnussle. “Bob” the giraffe is not gonna cut it.

Enter in the comments below, on Facebook, or Twitter. Entries will be accepted through 8 PM Eastern on Wednesday 8/31. Enter as many times as you want.

So stick your neck out, and name that giraffe!

Willing

2011-08-21T10:56:00.000-04:00

Cooking For Aspies

2011-08-14T10:55:00.000-04:00

Happy-Nappy-Slappy-Sheeple-Mechanical Cultural Imprint-Ageless Everlasting Essence-Rigamarole-Great Cosmic Planetary Dance Around the Sun-Burfday

2011-07-31T10:04:00.000-04:00

“Birthdays are a social construct,” Bill said to me, at one of the very first Asperger’s groups I ever went to. Like so many of society’s conventions, a device invented by the NT’s as one more excuse to socialize, wrapped in the guise of honoring the birthday person. He went on to say, when his Aspie son wanted a special toy, and his birthday was 3 months off, he didn’t wait – he got him the toy as an early present. And 3 months later, they just had a party, and everyone was happy.

I think there is truth to what Bill said. Birthdays are rarely about the person having the birthday. Birthdays are for wall posts from people you haven’t seen in 20 years, and won’t see again, but hey look, we still keep in touch. Birthdays are for cake, because it’s called birthday cake after all, and it being a birthday, we have cake on it. Birthdays are for office parties, a nice excuse for us all to take a break, and more cake. Birthdays are for sending cards with dancing monkeys, and flatulence humor, and bug-eyed grinning dogs on them. Birthdays are for presents, perhaps socks or a CD rack or electric shaver cleaning cartridges, things the birthday person needs but would rather not buy for themselves, because the things they really want, they’ve already bought when the mood struck. In other words, birthdays exist so others can pay their respects to the birthday person, or fulfill a social obligation to do so, in the best way they know how.

Who am I to go against the social construct? I am not cynical about birthdays at all. I believe my birthday is a day to be celebrated, with thoughts of peace and reflection, and looking ahead. I often wish I could observe it by doing something meaningful and memorable, as if I truly owned my special day.

How would I spend the day if it were really up to me? Who would I spend it with? I haven’t really bothered to consider the question. This week, that morning, I went for an early walk in the park, through the wet grass warmed by the rising sun, with no one else around. It was the best moment of my day.

Now that the ritual is over, maybe I should have an unbirthday celebration. Or maybe a whole lot of unbirthdays. Just a day to be awesome, to spend as I choose with those I choose. Maybe it’s your unbirthday too?

How do you celebrate? What would you do, if it were up to you?

The Freedom House Party

2011-07-24T10:02:00.000-04:00

Night fell on a perfect July Saturday. I sat on the front porch as candles flickered in the dark, under a full moon, and listened to stories being told. Old stories, told by old friends, that were new to me.

In the back yard, we passed around sparklers, and ignited them in the flame of a tiki torch. We waved them like when we were kids, the sparks smarting our hands ever so slightly, before burning out. A long forgotten feeling.

I watched my own blog appear on a mobile phone screen, as I talked with a brand new reader about where my ideas come from, and comic books, and yeah, it would suck so much if we had to have 8-inch smiles like The Joker.

I laughed as a plot was hatched to snatch a hideous Christmas wreath that stays up all year. I laughed at a debate over whether a couch, discarded on the side of the road, should be taken into one’s home. And I laughed most of all as a lawn chair spontaneously disintegrated beneath its occupant.

Every July, my friend Basha and her husband host their Freedom House Party. This year was my first invite. We’d worked together for nearly ten years, but had never socialized much outside work. When I moved on to my new job, we’d agreed to stay in touch, and here was a chance to do so. This was no time for my usual social anxieties. I was happy to be asked, and happy to accept.

Basha has been an avid supporter of this blog from its beginning. That is her on the phone in my original cartoon, confounding me with sarcasm. She understands now why that doesn’t work on me. She has continued to want to learn about Asperger’s and what the world looks like through my eyes. I am so grateful for that. She invited me, knowing a party was outside my comfort zone, but wanting me to feel welcome and accommodated.

It was a wonderful time. I was incredibly social, for me. I didn’t try to be anything I'm not. I sat quietly and listened when I felt like it, and joined in the conversation when I wanted. It was all natural. As other guests danced the night away, and mingled, and drank wine, I enjoyed the night at my own pace, in my own way. And I couldn’t help but marvel at how we saw the same party through different eyes.

Basha was happy for me. “It was very courageous and cool for you to come,” she told me afterward. Maybe just a little. I confessed to an attack of nerves as I arrived, but I expected that, and I was prepared. I sat in my car for a few minutes, until I felt settled, and decided, “OK, I should go in now.” After that it was smooth sailing. The noise and the crowds never overwhelmed me to the point where I needed to get away. There was a dancing space, and a separate space to sit and chill.

Our conversation then turned to the movie Adam, in which the Aspie title character and his NT love interest grow to understand each other. She learned to talk to him literally, without figures of speech, and he learned to tell and understand jokes. Basha asked me, “Do you think you are changing? Do you think the way you think is changing since you learned about AS and started talking to others about it?”

Oh yes, I said. It’s been a year and a half now since I first disclosed. At the time, it was like revealing my deepest secret. I could stop being ashamed of it and actually be proud. I learned to accept my own limitations, like how I don’t remember faces. I began to share my experiences openly through my writing and cartoons. Most of all, I’ve continued to grow more comfortable in my own skin.

And I think that is why the party went so well for me. I didn’t have to pretend to be normal. I didn’t need any special accommodations. I was just another guest, taking part, enjoying good food and good times. And that is what I most wanted.

The Freedom House Party was a night I won’t forget. It was two weeks after the 4th of July, but in that house, Freedom was the word. Freedom to be myself, freedom to enjoy in my own way. Is there any better kind?

Evolution T-Shirts Are Here!

2011-07-20T20:15:00.001-04:00

The results are in, and your votes chose the winning design for my next T-shirt!

Actually, the results were so close, I decided to choose the top TWO designs! So now you can show off your Aspie pride with a cartoon from my Autism and Evolution post:

Neurotypical is My Second Language

or,
No Evolution Without Autism

And if you voted for one of the other two designs and are interested in it, just leave a comment or send me an email and I'll throw that up on Zazzle too! (I like all four.)

Choose from a variety of styles and colors to customize your own shirt.

A value T-shirt starts at only $15.85!
Get a ladies' casual scoop tee in 3 colors for $21.15!
A super-comfy Basic American Apparel shirt in 7 colors is yours for $26.45!

or one of the many other styles offered by Zazzle!

I wear my Dude shirt out in public, and it is fun, I must say. People be all like, "Move aside yo! Aspie comin' thru!" Okay, not really. But you should get one anyway.

Celebrate your different-ness and spread the word about this here blog. Thanks!

This.

2011-07-17T09:33:00.000-04:00

Vote for Your Favorite "Evolution" T-Shirt

2011-07-13T20:48:00.001-04:00

It's time to choose my next T-shirt design! It will be based on my very popular post on autism and evolution. Vote for your favorite of the 4 designs below!

1.

Voting has ended. Thank you!

Hum

2011-07-10T10:59:00.000-04:00

Code Violation

2011-07-03T11:31:00.000-04:00

Greenawalt County Social Code of Conduct

Greenawalt County is committed to preserving the quality of our community. Our guidelines are intended to protect you from menaces to society, such as unsavory or disagreeable animals, vehicles, properties, signs, pests, diseases, art, litter, viewpoints, public nuisances, and now, people.

A social society is a healthy society. You are receiving this notice for a violation of our Social Code of Conduct:

1. Smiles are to be maintained at a width of 8 inches or more at all times.

2. Greetings are to be returned promptly and cordially. Failure to return a greeting may result in charges of rudeness.

3. Eye contact is to be maintained for the duration of the conversation, with no less than 0.5 second interruption.

4. Interest in what the other person is saying is to be demonstrated by nods and eye contact. Lack of compliance will signify boredom and will be subject to a $50 fine.

5. Audible – Verbal speech must measure at least 70 decibels. Noncompliance shall indicate disrespect and/or mental deficiency.

6. Expression – Facial expressions that appear angry, sad, or intense are strictly prohibited. Natural facial expressions shall be at minimum, contented or neutral.

7. Respect – Police, security, and other authority figures are entitled to confront or intimidate you and receive prompt, verbal responses. Failure to comply shall be treated as disrespect and subject to criminal charges.

8. Stims and unusual noises are to be kept under control and out of sight so as not to incite fear among the general populace.

9. Emotional stability – Sudden, unexplainable outbursts are prohibited and shall indicate an act of rebellion or threat to the public at large.

10. Sociability – Humans are social creatures. The silent loner is undesirable by the mainstream majority. All citizens must supply proof they have not less than five (5) friends, as evidenced by regularly engaging in social activities with said friends.

Maybe it wasn't.

I Need...

2011-06-26T11:30:00.000-04:00

“I've countless times seen the eyes of a child with Asperger's well up because I simply got what they meant, because I simply understood.” - Richard Bromfield

The Tree

2011-06-19T10:35:00.000-04:00

I am feeling the love these days. Next week, I will leave the job I’ve held for nearly a decade. Already, the hugs have started from co-workers. Already, the email messages of thanks, the stories of memories we shared and even those we didn’t, and the looming spectre of the goodbye pizza party. As if all the love came out of hiding. It leaves me to wonder, after next week, where will it go?

John Gorka said, “People love you when they know you’re leaving soon.” Certainly, endings amplify feelings already there. With some people, it’s okay to say, “Yes, I’ll stay in touch, I’ll come back to visit,” and not really mean it. But I also have friendships I would be sad to see end, that I hope will survive outside the familiar context. It has worked for me sometimes, but many times, it hasn’t. There are more ways than ever to keep in touch these days, but it still comes down to the free will of both people.

A song called “The Tree” by Blitzen Trapper found its way into my head this week. It suggests that all our relationships connect us to others in the way a tree is made up of interconnected branches. Our bonds to friends and loved ones are there for us throughout our lives, as a tree that grows from the ground to the sky, “never-ending.” As the tree is a living organism, our relationships too remain alive, a chain connecting us to each other, to the twists and turns of fate, and to the universe.

It’s not a new metaphor, but it’s an appealing one. What a comforting thought that as we go along in life, we can simply reach out to the people we need, when we need them, as if reaching to the next branch on a tree. But is that overly idealistic?

It is human nature to love and to connect. If these things are so important to us, why is it so difficult to stay connected? Why are there people who say they don’t feel a connection to anyone? Some are afraid to let others get too close, or that they drive others away. Some say no one else has been able to know them the way they’d like to be known. They have known love in their life, and they wonder where it went. I admit I feel unsure myself sometimes. Do any of us really feel sure?

My own tree has branches that are vibrant and branches that are dormant. It needs constant feeding to grow and remain strong. Different branches need different care. Relationships take time and they take work. But they can surprise us. When a relationship is meant to last, it doesn’t feel like work, and it will find a way.

When I change jobs, as with any life transition, branches will shift. It’s inevitable. The love I’m feeling from co-workers now will go somewhere. I want to believe it won't go away. I believe it will be there, wherever, whenever I need it. I won't worry about how. Maybe I’m not meant to understand, as the song says.

You must be blind if you’re to see,
Must walk behind if you’re to lead,
Must be the soil to the seed,
Never-ending.

Dreams or Happiness

2011-06-12T09:57:00.001-04:00

My job search is over. Earlier this week I accepted an offer, and I start July 1. My policy has always been to mention my employer as little as possible on this blog, so if you want to find out where I’m going, please head over to Twitter, where I made the announcement.

My search lasted all of 34 days. I realize how incredibly lucky I am to find something so quickly in these difficult times. At the same time, it has been the longest five weeks of my life. If you have a stable job that supports your needs in life, please take a moment to be thankful. You can really take it for granted until one day, it's gone.

I am going to a nonprofit organization that does truly amazing work. It makes a meaningful impact nationwide, with a staff of about ten. It has grown from grass roots beginnings in response to an urgent and recognizable need. It offers me a new challenge, and potential for professional growth. I met most of the staff, and they took time to get to know me, and we mutually decided it was a good fit.

I’m leaving a place that does an ever-growing number of things, for a place that does one thing, and does it well. I’m leaving a job where I did too many things to count, for a job where I’ll do two things: write grants, and work with a database. It will be nice to get back to basics, and keep it simple, and grow from there. That’s why, of all the options available to me, I think I took the best one.

In the past, I’ve written here about wanting to work in the autism field, and called it my dream job. I’m not going to be doing that. But I did have the chance. And I turned it down. Because it just wasn’t the right fit.

I got lots of advice during my search. As decision time neared, two pieces of advice stuck in my head. The first was: “Remember to weigh the benefits all around. Happiness level, health benefits, money benefits etc.” The second was: “You realize there's no such thing [as a dream job], right? Grass on the opposite side of fences, as green as it may appear, may well appear so green because of bad chemicals that will ultimately make you quite ill.”

Ultimately, I made the choice that fit with my lifestyle. I chose a casual work environment, where one of the two offices is in a cottage next to a barn, with people who took the time to understand who I am and what I can do. I chose to go where I can come home in the evening and have time to go for a walk in the park, or work on my cartoons, or catch up with friends. I’m making sacrifices in other areas for these things, but from this vantage point, that’s true job satisfaction.

I wonder too, whether I’ll make a better advocate if I’m not living and breathing autism for a living. Very few bloggers do that, if any. Would I still like to work for an autism organization someday? I don’t know. I will continue to be an advocate, and for now, that’s good enough.

So what is a dream job? Is there any such thing? Even when we're sure we know what we want, it may not be the truth. Maybe a dream job is one where you like the things you do on a daily basis, where you have space and time for the personal life you want, and where you enjoy the people you work with. And just maybe, you make a few friends for life. If that’s the case, I’ve already been living the dream, and I’ll go on living it where I’m going.

15 Reasons Why Chat Rooms Are Great for Aspies

2011-06-05T10:35:00.000-04:00

In the past few months, I’ve become a chat room aficionado. Chat rooms have been around since the early days of AOL, yet I avoided them for years. There was something intimidating, and risky about the idea, and its stereotype as a hangout for lowlifes and losers. But since I decided to overcome my fear, my experience has been unquestionably positive.

Many Aspies have found their comfort zone in chat rooms long before me. Others remain hesitant to try, whether out of fear of socialization or discomfort with the medium. I’d like to address the latter group here, and list some reasons why I think chat rooms can be especially beneficial to those on the autism spectrum.

1. A chat room can be confusing at first if you’ve never experienced it. But if you hang around long enough, you’ll get used to the flow.

2. It’s okay to sit back and observe until you feel comfortable. Just say hello, and if you like, greet others when they arrive. You will get an idea of who is a regular, and who will greet you time after time, and you can return their greeting.

3. People in chat can talk all at once, and even have multiple conversations. In person, this is extremely hard to process, but in chat, you have time – the transcript is right there on your screen.

4. Pauses in conversation are allowed! You can take your time in responding to a question – even several minutes!

5. No excessive use of um... like... you know… (Note, I didn’t say no use.)

6. Aspies often have trouble when a conversation suddenly ends, or changes topic. In chat, you can pinpoint where the topic changed, by scrolling up. Less whiplash!

7. In text-based chat, NT’s don’t have access to their usual conversational cues – sarcasm is very difficult to do, and nuances of expression aren’t easily detected. So the NT's are thrown off a bit, kind of like we Aspies are in in-person conversation. So it somewhat levels the playing field for us.

8. Aspies love rules, and chat comes with its own universe of rules and language. Learn new and exciting words, like wb, or -__- or o_O!

9. Also, learn the special secret tricks of chat, like how to do an action, or change your font color. You kind of have to ask someone how. Like the olden days of passing language down by word of mouth.

10. When chatting with people using a webcam, you can look at their faces without making eye contact! You can chat by text with them if you’re not on cam yourself.

11. If you turn on your webcam, you can see yourself on screen, like a rear view mirror. Handy to check if you are wearing an appropriate expression. Wouldn’t that be nice to have in person?

12. If you don’t like someone’s face, hide their cam! (Don’t tell them when you do this.)

13. Chat has an immediacy to it, and at its best, a personal connection, that I haven’t found in other social media, such as Twitter and Facebook. I haven’t given up my social media, but I prefer chat when I’m in the mood for human interaction.

14. Awkward goodbyes are allowed in chat! When you’re out of things to say, just say you’ve got to go now. Or, just leave!

15. A chat room can be a place to go and find other people to talk to, on those nights when there is no one around, and nowhere to go.

Always be safe online. Chat with a community you know, or with friends from real life. Know whether the chat room is accessible to the public, and don’t give out your name or personal information.

Chat has become an integral part of my social life. My cyber-acquaintances are important connections to me, who I enjoy interacting with, and sharing ups and downs with, unbounded by geography and with an unlimited variety of life backgrounds. A few weeks ago, one of our chat regulars passed away at a young age, from a chronic illness. We all felt the loss, even if we hadn’t talked to him much, we got to know his sense of humor, his personality, and his spirit. We were reminded how real these connections become.

There’s something wonderful about how you can walk into a room where everyone has an alias, where some are half-asleep, some are eating their dinner, and some are drunk, and you just might find their most honest self. You might find the truth.

Here are a few Asperger’s chat rooms:

Wrong Planet
Aspies for Freedom
Autistic Speaks – this is a Tinychat set up by a 23-year old with ASD. You can create your own public or private chat room on Tinychat – it’s probably my favorite platform.
If you have other favorite hangouts, please share them in the comments.

So go ahead. Go find a chat, and click to enter.

Jobs for People with Asperger’s: Grant Writer

2011-05-29T10:26:00.000-04:00

You don’t often see Grant Writer listed among the best jobs for Aspies. As a successful grant writer myself, I’m here to tell you why Asperger’s helps me excel, and why it might be the career for you.

I didn’t plan on becoming a grant writer. Most of us probably didn’t. One day, someone asked me if I could write a grant. So I took a look at one, and I did. Sounds too simple to be true, right? Last week, we looked at some of the key advantages of Asperger’s in the workplace. As I look back now, many of those traits have been directly responsible for my success:

Seeing patterns: Whenever possible, I will use an old grant as a model when starting a new one. Even if it’s an unrelated topic. I’m looking for paragraphs or whole sections I can repurpose, keeping the structure, but changing the details. I find it easier than reinventing the wheel.

Focus: Perhaps the most challenging part of a grant is taking on an unfamiliar topic, especially at the very beginning. It can often be difficult, as an Aspie, to shift focus from one subject to another, and sometimes I lag behind my co-workers in picking up on a new topic. However, I make up this ground quickly. My familiarity comes from gradual and repeated exposure to the topic, more likely alone at my computer screen than in a team brainstorming session, and from asking questions as needed. I fill in my knowledge gaps one at a time: What is the need? Why will our idea work? How are we measuring success?

Logic: Everyone hates to do logic models. A logic model is the one page table that lists in columns your community need, inputs, outputs, and outcomes, short and long term. Basically it summarizes your plan in excruciating detail, connecting the dots for the reader. I used to hate to do logic models too. But I’ve changed my mind, because I realized something: If my logic model makes sense, the entire narrative will fall into place, simply by filling in the details. So now, it’s one of the first things I do when I write.

Outsider perspective: Aspies are used to viewing things as an outsider. When I write, I’m often taking direction from people more experienced in the field. I must understand the subject matter for myself, so I can write knowledgably about it. Therefore, I'm careful to articulate concepts so they make sense to me, eliminating industry jargon when possible. The advantage of this is that the grant reviewer has likely never heard of our company or our idea before. Yes, grant reviewers are human beings, too! They need a clear explanation so they can make a decision to fund or not. So in writing for my own understanding, I’m writing for the reviewer as well.

Puzzle solving: Sometimes grants have a strict page limit. Even 30 pages, which sounds like a lot, is not. So it becomes a puzzle, because I can't simply cram in as much information as possible; I must make it fit within the parameters given. I’ve learned many tricks to do this, such as trimming down a data table from a full page to a half, or fitting in more paragraphs by adjusting my spacing, while still complying with the 12 point font and 1-inch margins. I think of it as giving more bang for your buck, by putting the same amount of information in the smallest possible space.

Unconventional thinking: I imagine I work very differently from NT grant writers. I like to have my structure in place first, even with the wrong information, before I go to work on the content. For instance, if I have 42 pages and a 30 page limit, nothing else matters to me until I can trim it down, before I add anything new. Then, through repeated editing, I’ll read through and see what’s missing, and fill it in, then repeat until nothing is missing. I may take a different path to get there, but it’s the final product that matters.

Attention to detail: By the time a proposal is done, I know every inch of it. If someone comes along at the last minute and says, change the title of this position, or change this goal from 75% to 80%, I know exactly where the updates need to be made. Usually, it's more than one place.

I never took a class on grant writing. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a training. Even so, I’ve brought in about $16 million for my company in a little under ten years. I’ve helped open new buildings, and make it possible for people to stay healthy, find homes, and keep custody of their children. Grant writing is often tedious and thankless work, but it makes many good things possible. It takes the right person to do it well. And just maybe, it takes an Aspie.

Asperger's Advantages in the Workplace

2011-05-22T09:40:00.001-04:00

"Chances are, you’re working with someone who has Asperger’s syndrome.” – Barbara Bissonnette, The Employer’s Guide To Asperger’s Syndrome

Here are some of the qualities an employee with Asperger's brings to your workplace:

Logical thinking

Originality in problem-solving

Attention to detail

Technical ability

Accuracy

Tolerance of repetition and routine

Honesty

Loyalty

Reliability

Persistence

Conscientious

Knowledgeable

Integrity

and much more.

It’s true – you may have an Aspie working for you, without even knowing it!

And if you don’t, what are you waiting for? Hire an Aspie today. It may be the best decision you’ve ever made.

Additional source: Tony Attwood, The Complete Guide to Asperger's Syndrome, p. 295

Let It Burn, Let It Burn

2011-05-15T10:56:00.000-04:00

Ten days ago, I lost my job to a layoff. At the moment, I will be out of work June 30. In an instant, my world turned confusing, and uncertain. Each day is a roller coaster of emotion. It will be quite awhile before things feel “normal” again.

We all can be knocked on our backs by a crisis. If you are neurotypical, you have your support network to catch you. But if you have autism, as we’ve seen, your support network is often lacking. Not only are you not well-connected to people, you don’t “read” them well even in a clear state of mind. And thus, the same crisis hits you that much harder.

I’ve been told by many, “I’m here if you need to talk.” “I'm here if you need anything.” And that is a wonderful thing, until I realized I haven’t the slightest idea what to do with those offers.

I have found encouragement and support come to me from the least expected people. And, I have found a casual brush-off from others who I expected to be supportive.

I have been an actor, suddenly on a constant audition, every move carefully choreographed. I have practiced giving measured and neutral responses when necessary, compiling a mental checklist of how much information to provide to whom.

I have been a ghost, among others going about their normal routine, talking of cruises, or allergies, or playfully teasing at one another’s expense.

They tell me, it’ll work out. They tell me, one door closes and another opens. That’s all well and good, but they don’t know how the waiting feels. They imagine, but they don’t know, how different the world looks, inside a crisis.

I sat around a conference table with a bishop who blessed our meeting in Jesus’ name. The bishop greeted me warmly, and asked how I was, and I lied and said I was well. And though I don’t believe in his God, I found myself wondering what words of wisdom he might have for me.

I've been noticing things I never noticed before. I stopped at a tollbooth, and the toll taker wished me a nice day. I heard the kindness in her voice, and it gave me strength, like finding a penny on the ground.

I walked past an industrial scrap yard in the city, beside a chain link fence, and on the other side, a dog appeared and followed alongside me. He didn’t bark, he simply looked at me, wide-eyed and mangy, mirroring my steps until I passed the boundary. I think he would have followed me home if not for the fence.

I sat alone at a picnic table, eating my lunch on a sunny mid-afternoon, while maintenance workers rode past on golf carts, and senior citizens stretched and checked their maps. I watched a young woman approach an empty swing set and get on, though she was clearly not a kid anymore. She swung for a good long time, all by herself, without a trace of self-consciousness. I thought how good it would feel to do the same. But not today. There was work to be done.

I’ve had the new P.J. Harvey CD on repeat all week, “Let England Shake,” and in my head, the song, “Written on the Forehead,” about the people in a war-torn city watching destruction all around them. Some, in a last act of free will, throw their possessions in a celebratory bonfire: “Let it burn, let it burn, let it burn, burn, burn...” Others try to swim to safety: “Through tons of sewage, fate written on their foreheads.” Neither group can escape the ravages of war.

Likewise, none of us can escape change. We can try to swim against the current, but we’ll likely fail. Or, we can let our old world burn, and seize control of our destiny rather than accept some predetermined fate.

I’m choosing to do the latter, now that war has come to my doorstep. I'm letting the old reality burn, so the new can take its place. It can be hard to find guideposts as that reality shifts and reshapes, but I need only remember to be myself, and be proud of who I am, as a person with Asperger’s. If I can do that, I am sure to emerge stronger from this crisis.

Retro Mommy Blog, Part 3

2011-05-08T09:30:00.002-04:00

Thanks, Mom.

One Arrow

2011-05-01T10:18:00.000-04:00

I am in my basement, and I am practicing darts. I am twelve years old. I do not care about mastering the skill. I have no intention of competing. It’s not the bulls-eye that interests me.

I am training. Training to hit number five, over and over. I must be precise. Deadly. An assassin. Like him.

Twenty students we number, in Mr. P’s homeroom. Twenty slices on the dartboard. Perfect. Perfect for Mr. P, ever the jokester, to inject some friendly competition into the morning routine.

But not all here are friends. There is a predator among us. Across the room, B smiles a jack-o-lantern grin, and licks his lips. Into this innocent contest, he has sunk in his fangs, and injected venom.

Each morning, one dart throw appoints one of us teacher’s helper: The chosen one collects the lunch orders. They take the attendance sheet upstairs. And the next morning, they lead the Pledge. Then, they throw, choosing the next helper.

B knows I dread leading the Pledge. We all know it. My loudest voice seems barely a murmur to their ears; their slightest snicker seems a roar to mine. B has made me his target for a year already, but never, until now, in the literal sense. However unwittingly, Mr. P has gift-wrapped and delivered me to my adversary.

It is child’s play to match number to name, for anyone who cares to. Ten is mine. And B is no roulette player. Ten is where he aims. He throws. He connects. He smiles in mock surprise.

B gives me what I want the least. Attention. A solitude-seeker, I placed myself in his crosshairs. He strikes, without laying a finger, but with warfare of the mind. He fires in the shadows, under breath, out of sight, ever present to remind me I am different. Here, where the rules are so many, we do battle in a lawless land.

But I have long since surrendered. Retaliation has proved futile. Fists and words alike backfired, my frustration only became his fuel. Still he baits me to react. I retreat into passivity, a mask for concealed rage. He has implanted in me a demon seed of self-doubt.

Now, the game is darts. And it occurs to me… Yes, two can play. The thought has crossed my mind. But in my defeatist mindset, I hesitate. Should I? Isn’t it in vain? I’ve never landed a blow against him. But for once, I find myself with a weapon in my hand.

And so I am practicing, into the evening. Sixteen. Three. Eleven. No, I must keep trying. Nine. Twenty. Twelve. Getting closer. I will not give up. And finally… Five... Five... Five. I have done it. But can I hit my mark when it counts?

The next morning, I fulfill my duty.

“I pledge allegiance, to the flag…”

My words freefall through empty air. Seconds stretch into an eternity. Until at last, a chorus fills in behind me, a parachute ripcord.

“…of the United States of America…” And then, it is done.

I approach the dartboard and draw. I take my position. I aim. And I throw.

Five.

And from across the room, an incredulous sneer.

“Aw, mannn…”

I show no emotion. I cannot. But inside I am brimming with joy. One arrow pierces powerlessness. And for one day, the prey has battled the predator, and won.

Search Strings We Have Known

2011-04-24T10:08:00.000-04:00

Ah. The search strings that bring people to my blog. Can’t you just picture what they were thinking?


i'm an aspie now what

cartoon images of noodle the dachshund

i'm a little aspie

cinnamon bears in delaware

help squishy birds help

charades dude i'm a transformer i'm a pigeon

That was fun. Keep searchin' people. Keep searchin'.

Invite

2011-04-17T10:24:00.000-04:00

NT invited to dinner

Saturday?
8:00?
Leonardo's Tavern?
I’m in!
See you then!

Aspie invited to dinner

Saturday?
At 8?
Hmm. I should get out and socialize.
It would be good for me.
Maybe this will work.
Am I doing anything else that day?
... No.

But, maybe there’s something better going on?
Let’s check, I wouldn’t want to miss out…
No, nothing else.
“Leonardo’s Tavern.”
Hm, never been there before.
Let’s check the Web site.
What’s on their menu?
Hmm – I could have fish and chips,
or the putanesca looks okay,
but I could probably get any of this stuff anywhere else…

Let’s see who’s coming…
11 people said Yes.
Hmm, from their photos, not exactly my kind of people…
Will I have anything to talk to them about?
Probably not…
What would I have to wear?
Casual attire… that’s good.
I’d have to pick out an outfit though,
I’d want to make a good impression…

Where is this place?
Let’s check Google Maps…
Hmm, yes, I think I could manage that…
Let me just simulate it with street view,
I wouldn’t want to get lost…
“Quaint country setting,” it says.
Oh, I like that.
But it’s a tavern, that’s like a bar.
Will it be loud?
Probably…

Loud people and bar food…
“Entertainment nightly.”
Oh, that’s not good – that means noise.
Let’s see what yelp has to say…
Hmm, this person gave it one star.
Didn’t like the ketchup…
That’s not good…

One hour later...

Erm, I just don’t feel right about this…
It would be nice to get out,
but, I don’t think this is the time…
That’s what I’ll do,
I’ll wait for the next one.

So…
What shall I do tonight?

I've Been Babbled Upon!

2011-04-14T20:20:00.000-04:00

It's an honor to be included in Babble's Top 25 Autism Spectrum Blogs for 2011. I'm among great company, and there are so many others they could have chosen. Please check out the full list. There are many blogs I already follow, and others I'm just now discovering.

Also, be sure to check out the Babble Top 30 Autism Facebook Fan Pages.

If you want to not only be autism-aware, but autism-accepting and autism-understanding, look no further than these lists. Listen to us - we tell it like it is.

Big thanks to Babble for including me - especially for calling me a "young person" on the spectrum (!) - and for this outstanding awareness campaign.

Dude, You Made a Difference

2011-04-10T11:37:00.000-04:00

Walk for Autism pics here.

Hung Up

2011-04-03T11:07:00.001-04:00

Peripheral

2011-03-27T11:02:00.001-04:00

The Greeter

2011-03-13T12:25:00.001-04:00

Behind this door lies a different world every night. With a turn of the knob, I am diving blind, straight into the unknown. I might find myself in a swirling vortex of activity, or a purposeful current, or a lazy trickle of tedium. It can be unpredictable here. But that’s part of the allure.

Surfacing on the other side, I’ve fastened myself to a collective alive and bubbling. Along for the ride, now I must adapt on the fly. Will I sink? Will I swim? Will I be noticed at all? But I always feel welcome here. I have The Greeter to thank for that.

“Yo, Sara.”
“What up, Freddy?”
“Welcome back, Harley.”

Some of us have deep roots here, our arrival met with delight, our full names cast aside for affectionate shorthand. Others have yet to make their mark, the rookies, enter to barely a stir. The Greeter welcomes us all, includes us all, as equals.

When you’re new to the group, The Greeter gives you their report. Vancouver? Lancashire? Greece? Connecticut? Here are some other members in your region. Your city has this many gatherings a year. Not as many as New York, but more than Portland.

“You must have all this in a book,” the others say. Nah. No book. The Greeter is the walking encyclopedia of our bunch. I tell them so. “I’m proud to be a geek,” they say.

All of us are oddballs here. Some are non-native English speakers, some still in high school, at least one of us is deaf. Some are loud, outsize personalities. Some are flirty, some snarky, some are playing a character.

The Greeter is low key, without pretense. Amiably aloof. Opinionated, able to hold their own with anyone. The Greeter is one of us, yet stands apart from the rest. Odd among the oddballs.

Sometimes the conversation turns to cacti, or French, or beekeeping. Wait five minutes, and it may shift somewhere else entirely. A keenly interested few dominate, while others hang back, less knowledgable, or pop their head out the door, distracted. The Greeter cares little for where the flow is headed. Without qualms, they will introduce a new topic, whenever, wherever. Snubbing the active participants, they prefer to pose a question to an idle bystander.

“Darren, do you get a lot of rain there?”
“Selena, did you play sports when you were in school?”
“Roxie, do they have good barbeque joints where you are?”

The Greeter likes to ask me about the banks headquartered in Delaware. Are there many robberies? Do I worry about it? How’s the weather today? They find a picture of the city library that I’ve never been to. It’s a nice looking library, we agree.

The others are puzzled by The Greeter. “You ask the strangest questions,” they say. But I like The Greeter’s questions. They are counterpoints to the run-of-the-mill babble. Like a straw in our conversation cocktail, taken and stirred against the tide.

All the while, the scene is abuzz with the comings and goings of guests. Some jump right in. Some take a look around, and are gone without a word. Some pull up a chair, silent spectators. The Greeter, a consistent presence, welcomes all. Nobody asked them to fill this role. It comes naturally.

The Greeter has autism, I learn, one night, in an offhand remark. Just another difference, in this place that accepts all kinds. There was no need to say so. I already knew.

It’s late now, time to take my leave. This gathering will go on into the wee hours, and start up again tomorrow. The Greeter will stay awhile longer, to stir the pot, or to give a report to a newcomer, or to float along with the onlookers, as the mood strikes. I bid goodnight to all. I’ll be back tomorrow, and I know I will be welcomed.

Blow Up

2011-03-06T09:49:00.000-05:00

This week, my blog saw its most visitors ever -- about 6,000 in one day! -- after my first post was shared by Autism Speaks. It’s quite a jolt to come home from work, open your email, and find 50 new comments. At first I thought it must be a spam attack, or somebody started a flame war. Of course, as I began to read the comments, I quickly realized it was neither of these.

I heard from parents, adults on the spectrum, autism professionals, and even one 10 year old. Most of you said how much you loved the cartoons. I want to thank you all for your kind words. It means a lot to hear that my cartoons speak to you. As one commenter said, “I wanted to say that I think your site is about to blow up, but after reading your blogs I realize what kind of picture that puts in your head.” Maybe a picture like this?

Many of you said how much you relate to how I describe Asperger’s. Christine said, “I love your description of aspergers, it gives me better perspective on what these kids are going through.” I heard from many, many parents who love their kids just the way they are, like this grandmother of an 11 year old: “During his meltdowns and times of pain when he thinks he should never have been born and he is all alone the cartoons I think will help to see he is just as God designed him and we will continue to search for his special niche in life.”

I heard from other parents who are still looking for answers: “Why is it that Aspergers is so hard to diagnose? One doctor says he has it but the other doctor not so sure. Mean time he struggles in school and no one wants to accept he has it. Where I live there are not any support groups for parents stuck in the middle till the doctors can agree.”

If you're in this situation, I hope you don’t give up searching for answers. Maybe you can find support from others who have been where you are, perhaps in one of the many online communities. As Will said in his comment, when things seem hopeless, they can really get better:

“My boy just turned 11, his autism used to be very pronounced (perseverations, no communication or interest in interaction) but now he's a talkative pianist who reads science and loves math… When he was a little boy I spent a few years in the "crying stage" but now I wouldn't change anything about him, he's such an awesome person, my favorite person in the whole world! Just the other day friends were telling me how far he's come and realized I hardly even ever think of the despair or worries I had for him 9 to 7 years ago! I would advise any parents who are still in the early years to not despair and never give up and get him as much one-on-one interaction with as many different people as possible. He will amaze you and have so many hidden talents you can discover and cultivate and which will bring him success and happiness when he grows up!”

Other comments reminded me of how much misunderstanding you still encounter. Justus said, “I just hope that 'normal' folk can learn to accept differences. Everyone can fit in in their own way, if some would just stop judging others so harshly.” The Pyxie said, “Having friends who have questioned my son's autism diagnosis, I recognize the way you must feel when the previous commenters question your self-identifying as Aspergers.” Again, I think Will said it the best: “Every single one of us is 'weird' from a certain point of view when you get to know them. That's just human uniqueness and its a beautiful thing, collectively it carries our species into new levels of civilization and experience of life.”

Some of you had questions to ask me. Cypher asked, “Do you have problems talking on the telephone as well? I don't seem to carry a conversation on the phone well unless its in one of my areas of interest or I'm following a script.”

Cypher, I find it’s gotten easier for me over time, though there are times when I have a script, at least in my head. One difficulty is the lack of facial expressions over the phone, so sarcasm is especially hard to detect, as the one cartoon shows. Also, it’s that much harder to figure out when it’s your turn to talk. And, one of my biggest pet peeves is voice recognition menus.

Daphne asked, “Do you tell people that you have aspies depending on the situation? I can't figure out if it is something I should do or not.”

Daphne, it depends for me. When I first disclosed, I told the people closest to me, who I knew would be understanding. Outside of that, it really doesn’t come up too often. Some people simply know me as an individual with my own quirks, and that’s good enough. But if asked, I don’t have any problem saying that I have it, and I don’t consider it a secret from anyone.

Deb said, “I wish there were other people that would come forward and let us know their stories so we can see what our children's future looks like. Its hard to see the world through an Aspie's eyes.”

Deb, there are a great many blogs out there by autistic adults, and I encourage all my readers to check them out if you haven’t yet discovered them. Every one of us is different and has our own story to tell. You can find many autistic bloggers at the Autism Blogs Directory.

Lastly, many of you asked whether there will be a kids’ version of “Dude, I’m An Aspie!” I was considering this for a time, but haven’t given it much thought lately. It has been awhile since I was a kid, and I don’t have any of my own, so I’d really like to hear from parents on this. Beyond making the original more kid-friendly, what would you like to see in a kids’ edition? Any topics that weren’t covered in the original?

Once again, thank you to all my readers, old and new! This site may have "blown up," but hopefully I'll continue to keep you entertained and informed for a long time to come.

P.S. - Now, you can appear on this blog in cartoon form when you support me in the Walk for Autism! Details here.

Support Me in the 2011 Walk for Autism

2011-03-02T19:26:00.003-05:00

On April 9, I will be walking in the 2011 Walk-Race for Autism, to benefit Autism Delaware. Please visit my fundraising page to support me and this great cause!

And if you’re from my neck of the woods, you can sign up to walk as a member of team Dude, I’m An Aspie!

Autism Delaware provides support and advocacy in my home state, including parent mentoring, speakers, a newsletter and listserv to keep people connected, and advocacy for families affected by autism. They run autism-friendly social events, like teen/tween Asperger’s board game night, where I volunteer. And, their adult service program Productive Opportunities for Work & Recreation (POW&R) will also benefit from this fundraiser.

Please donate or join the walk today. You can do some real good for people and their families affected by autism.

Update: For a donation of $10 or more, you can appear on this blog in cartoon form! Your likeness or avatar will get a personal thank you from Fuzzy in a special post following the walk, similar to my super-fun Thanksgiving bash. You may email me your own dialogue and/or a link to the avatar you'd like me to draw.

Thanks!

Welcome, New Readers!

2011-03-01T20:11:00.000-05:00

Welcome to all my new readers who arrived via Autism Speaks. If you like what you see, I hope you'll stick around for more thoughts and illustrations! This blog is all about promoting understanding of what it's like to live with an autism spectrum disorder. I try to strike a balance between honesty and humor, and I welcome your comments and conversation.

Here are a few of my favorite posts you might enjoy:

Special Interests: Cartoon Beginnings
Autistics Speaking Day: The Path to Understanding
Big Dreams
Why Are We Here? Autism and Evolution

Is It Because?

2011-02-27T09:42:00.002-05:00

Dude, It’s a T-Shirt!

2011-02-23T19:20:00.001-05:00

Hey! Your favorite Aspie cartoon is now a T-shirt!

Are you an Aspie and proud of it? Now, you can shout it out loud, with your “Dude, I’m An Aspie” T-shirt.

What better way to show off your Aspie pride than with a Fuzzy cartoon from “Dude, I’m An Aspie?”

Choose from two designs:

“Take Me To Your Leader”

or
“I’m Not Weird, I’m Just Wired Differently!”

“Dude, I’m An Aspie,” is a fun and to-the-point way to say, “This is who I am!” Use it to start a conversation, make a fashion statement, or just to get a smile. Plus, you can show your support for dudeimanaspie.com, and its message of understanding for those on the autism spectrum.

With either design, you can choose from a variety of styles and colors to customize your own shirt.

Get a value T-shirt for only $15.85!
Go stylish with a baseball 3/4 sleeve raglan for $22.20!
A super-comfy Basic American Apparel shirt is yours for $26.45!

or one of the many other styles offered by Zazzle!

Don’t you wish it were as simple as wearing a shirt to explain your quirks? Well, this is the closest thing to it!

I already own two of these shirts myself, and I can tell you, they really look awesome. It's because of fans like you that my cartoons have the following that they do, and it's because of you that I've decided to put them on a shirt. So thank you for your support, and for helping me celebrate the launch of the "Dude, I'm An Aspie" store!

Spectrum Soundtrack: Hello In There

2011-02-20T10:08:00.000-05:00

John Prine didn’t write “Hello in There” about autism. He wrote it about the elderly - the overlooked, the ignored, the invisible. I am 35 years old. I am not old, and I don’t know how old feels. I shouldn’t understand the harsh truths in this song. But I do understand. I am autistic, and I know how “in there” feels.

Who I am “in there,” doesn’t always make it “out there.” It’s not that I want to stay “in there.” It’s more like the real me gets lost between “in” and “out.”

I get lots of “hello’s.” Hello’s as we pass every morning. Hello’s across the lunch table over pizza. Hello’s that start conversations about Egypt, or movies, or pet goldfish. These are hello’s “out there.” With these hello’s, you may think you know me, but you really only know pieces of me.

Do you know the difference between my polite laugh and my genuine, heartfelt laugh? Do you know what my eyes are saying that my mouth never will? Do you know my hopes or dreams, or anything about me that matters?

If you’re a neurotypical, you’re a natural connector. You find someone, or many someones, to share what’s “in there.” I don’t connect so easily. My desire to socialize switches on and off like the weather. I find it a mystery how to move from small talk to meaningful. Times when I want attention, no one is really listening. Other times, I have someone’s undivided interest, but my mouth can’t find the right words, before that brief window between us closes. Sometimes, even between friends, our closeness remains a chasm. Missed connections, over and over.

I know there are many of us, starved to relate, to belong. Many, who go without. When we fail to connect, we lose so much.

No, it’s not like being without food or water. Yes, we function. We should not be satisfied with functioning. The goal is not a functioning life, but a fulfilling life. Can I fully thrive when the part of me that matters the most, that makes me human and not just a character, remains unknown, and unshared?

We all have a need to be understood. We all have a need to be seen for who we are. When you’re old, or disabled, or otherwise different from the norm, that need can go unmet. We sense fear, ignorance, or ambivalence in others. Even if it’s only subconscious, we sense it, and it puts more distance between us. What’s “in there,” what’s real, stays inside. We save it until we feel safe to share. We wait…

Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello."

So what is the right “hello in there?” I think it’s a little like being in a hamster ball. If you push too hard, you might push me away. If you don’t push hard enough, it won’t go anywhere. The right “hello” is a push that’s just right. I am autistic, and I have much to share, if you are truly listening.

So if you're walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow [autistic] eyes,
Please don't just pass 'em by and stare
As if you didn't care. Say, "Hello in there, hello.”

Chameleon

2011-02-13T10:30:00.003-05:00

Productive

2011-02-06T10:15:00.003-05:00

Why Are We Here? Autism and Evolution

2011-01-30T10:07:00.000-05:00

“Some say Asperger’s is a gift, and even vital to human evolution.”

Who said that? Oh, that’s right… I did! What’s the deal with Asperger’s and evolution? Let’s take a closer look.

Evolution favors traits that help an organism adapt to its environment, and produce more offspring. Is Asperger’s a favorable set of traits?

Aspies have some advantages over NT’s. We are unique problem-solvers. We are truth-seekers. We are well-adapted to the information age.

We also have some disadvantages. We have stims and social difficulties. We are terrible liars. We are less likely to maintain a relationship and reproduce.

So we have both favorable and unfavorable traits. Some autistic traits pose severe challenges. There’s also reason to believe autistic genes have existed for a long time. Perhaps as long as humans have existed. So why are we here? And why, in spite of our challenges, do we seem to be growing in number?

The apparent increase in autism is partly due to increased public knowledge and recognition of autistic traits. But could it also be that we are increasingly useful to our species and our world?

Consider the difference between NT’s and Aspies. We are different in one major way: how we make sense of our environment. Starting from birth, NT’s learn to understand the world through their innate attachment to other humans. Aspies, however, focus on observing the patterns and structure in our environment.

Most of us learn the other way of functioning later, as a “second language.” NT’s acquire autistic behaviors, and vice versa. In this way, we have a symbiotic relationship with NT’s. They learn to specialize, to program a computer, and to enjoy alone time. We learn how to find a job, and buy a house, and read others’ emotions.

How has the symbiotic relationship affected our species? History is filled with eccentrics who became innovators. The Einsteins, the Beethovens, the Michelangelos, engrossed in their work, misunderstood in their time, but later recognized as the developers of new knowledge. No one can say for sure, but they share many characteristics with those of us on the spectrum.

Humans have evolved faster than any other species. We developed tools, built a society and industry, and catalogued our knowledge, all in a comparatively short 50,000 years. We transformed our own environment to favor our own survival. Would this be possible without the innovators? Their unique understanding of the environment based on structures and patterns enabled them to change it for the better.

But we Aspies did not change our world alone. We are different. Not superior. Autistics need NT’s. The inventor’s customers, the philosopher’s audience, the painter’s admirers, are all NT. Without NT’s we wouldn’t have team sports, CEO’s, or soldiers. Without NT’s, how would we spread our ideas?

Some like to think autism is “the next evolutionary step.” It’s an appealing upside to the challenges of the condition, or maybe it just makes a good sci-fi story. I don’t think autism is “the next step” if it means we will become a separate species. Neither do I think we are, in fact, aliens.

Instead, I think we’re meant to go forward together. Humanity has always depended on the different, to look ahead. We need neurodiversity. We need symbiosis between NT’s and autistics, with each understanding the other’s perspective. And we who are different must make our voices heard, by being our authentic selves in spite of the obstacles the world throws at us.

So no, not everyone will evolve to be autistic. But humanity will always need a few, and it will need to hear us. We need everyone to make the world. To advance, to metamorphize, to reach for the stars, and beyond. That is our “next step,” and we all must take it together. When it comes to our collective evolution as humans, Asperger’s is indeed vital.

Many of the ideas in this post draw on the writings of Alan Griswold. To read more about this theory of autism and evolution, please visit autisticsymphony.com.

Alive

2011-01-23T10:07:00.000-05:00

Look Me In The Eye-Yi-Yi!

2011-01-16T10:21:00.000-05:00

Awkwardness Unzipped

2011-01-09T10:35:00.000-05:00

Awkwardness Unzipped is the name of a fundraiser in Portland, Oregon to benefit children and youth with disabilities. I love the name of this event so much, I made it the theme of this week’s post.

What does it mean, “awkwardness unzipped?” I say it’s not to worry about hiding one’s awkwardness. To accept a certain amount of clumsiness in who you are and what you do. Particularly in whether you’re breaking sacred social codes. Everywhere I look, it seems, I see examples of this.

This week, career management blogger and Aspie Penelope Trunk wrote a stunningly candid post that begins, “I smashed a lamp over my head. There was blood everywhere. And glass. And I took a picture.” The rest of the post was framed as helpful tips for readers on how to bounce back from a setback. However, most readers couldn’t leave the intro alone, and urged her to seek help.

“I wish there would not be so much feeling sorry for me,” Penelope responded in the comments. “Lots of people go through times like this. It's okay to show it while it's happening. The world is a lonely place if everyone hides this stuff.” Later, it seemed she was listening to the advice, as she tweeted that the payoff for posting the photo was, “I can crowdsource mental health strategies in my blog comments.”

The episode was more than a bit awkward to witness. Was Penelope right to blog about such a personal situation to 60,000 readers? What if she’d put her pride first and kept the incident “zipped up?” I don’t know the answer. I wish her the help and healing she needs.

Elsewhere, nonprofit marketing blogger Kivi Leroux Miller announced she would begin posting daily, on the advice of Seth Godin. “It doesn’t matter if anyone reads [your blog],” says Seth in the video, “What matters is the humility that comes from writing it… the meta-cognition of thinking about what you’re gonna say. How do you explain yourself?”

Kivi explained why she welcomes this kind of self-exposure: “I love how blogging lets me advance my own thinking on topics, one post at a time. I love hearing what you think about what I think, even when you think I’m completely wrong.” Sure enough, some readers chastised her for her decision, urging her not to become a “McBlogger” who sacrificed quality for quantity.

But Kivi has not been dissuaded. She sees a benefit in her daily posting that outweighs the risk of awkwardness. So far, her experiment seems to be going well, as I’ve noticed no drop in quality.

In my own life, I, too, feel I’m unzipping and allowing for more awkwardness. Those of us who are different are pressured to hide our differences, thinking they’re defects. But the more I see my Asperger’s traits as differences, the less pressure I feel to cover up.

I worry less about the way I walk. I worry less that I’ll mess up what I’m trying to say on the phone. I doodle on my notepad in meetings, even if people can see. These things may be no big deal to you, but they always made me feel awkward. Lately, I feel I am growing more assertive. I put myself before others. I allow myself more imperfection, and I get more done.

My blogging has certainly taught me humility. I’ve written about topics I never expected to. I’m never entirely satisfied with how my cartoons turn out, but if I kept redoing and redoing them, I would never finish. At the same time, I don’t ever plan to make this blog a tell-all expose, or a daily.

This week, a reader left a comment on this post thanking me for my help with an “A-ha!” moment, and then she “skipped happily away in a state of gleefully glad-to-be-me silliness.” I think that sums up what you find when your awkwardness zips away.

Moments like that are my payoff for putting myself out there. I write about my own awkwardness in the hopes that I can help you feel gleefully glad about yours. And if we’re all comfortable being awkward, then none of us is really awkward, are we?

It feels good to unzip. It feels honest, and healthy. You might sacrifice a little humility, but you might solve your problems faster. You might find friends you didn’t know you had.

So don’t be afraid. Go ahead, unzip! Let your awkwardness hang out!

Erm, metaphorically speaking, that is.

Meet The Characters: Squishy Bird

2011-01-02T10:18:00.001-05:00

Gather round, readers! Today, you’re in for a real treat. For today, I tell you the legend of the Squishy Bird.

The year, 1986. The place, a Marshall’s department store. My mom goes shopping and brings home a plush birdie for my two younger brothers, but not for me. As if, at ten years old, I was too old for a stuffed bird. Little did she know.

Squishes!

Squishy Bird, so named by me for his spongy texture, stood 5 inches tall and resembled a bright blue penguin. He had personality. From the permanent amused expression on his face, to the mischievious glint in his beady little eyes, it all seemed to invite you to take a squish.

Naturally, the birds became a hot commodity around our household. Enticed by the lure of the squish, I would habitually steal the Squishy Bird from my brothers. This led them to guard him closely, which made me covet him even more, in an escalating cycle. Truly, a squish in the hand was worth two aggravated siblings.

Skateboard Squish, Sept. 1986

Squishy Bird became popular among our neighborhood friends as well. He was known to join us on our skateboards, cuz that’s just the kinda bird he was. He also inspired us to wax philosophical, and was the subject of many a quote in the Sayings Book. “Around here, we call it a Squishy Bird,” declared Ian. Another time, he memorably pontificated, “Squishes. How few there be.” Truer words were never spoken.

First cartoon appearance of Squishy Bird, April 8, 1986

As a character, Squishy Bird’s storyline began not on paper, but on a tape-recording called “Bear Going Lunch’s Greatest Adventure.” In this project, my friends and I took a tape recorder and voice-acted the exploits of superhero Bear Going Lunch and his dimwitted sidekick Camel Dude as they battled arch villain Eggo Waffles. Squishy Bird, who was voiced by me, showed up to interrupt our heroes at every turn, wanting to help, but just being annoying. A typical exchange went like this:

Bear Going Lunch: “I’d better get over there right away!”
Squishy Bird: “Hi! I’m Squishy Bird, where are you going?”
Bear Going Lunch: “This is confidential, and don’t follow me. You might get hurt.”
Squishy Bird: “It’s always confidential with this guy.”

An Interview with Squishy Bird, Aug. 17, 1986

Bear Going Lunch finally punches Squishes out just to shut him up, but Squishes would always come right back. He did, however, have his useful moments, as when he reminded Camel Dude to use medicine to revive an unconscious Bear. And, in a display of bravery, Squishy Bird saved Camel Dude from a burning building, getting caught in the flames himself. This led Bear Going Lunch to exclaim, “I’ve gotta save him, even if he gets on my nerves.”

In cartoon form, Squishy Bird’s major storyline came in “Piggy Parties, The Book.” Mimicking events in 1986’s Transformers, The Movie, Squishy Bird falls down a hole to find the leader of the News, Party Piggy, dying. In his last moments, Party Piggy urges him to take the Matrix of Newsyship and carry on his responsibilities as leader.

Squishy Bird takes the Matrix of Newsyship. From Piggy Parties, The Book, Fall 1986

Squish E. Bird. Fall 1986

Upon taking the Matrix, he assumed a new identity, Squish E. Bird, along with long orange legs and new feather markings. He served as leader for a short while, but the more mature Squish E. proved to be a boring character, quite in conflict with the zany roots of Squishes. I thus retconned him back to Squishy Bird.

Today, I’ve found the perfect role for Squishes in Dude, I’m An Aspie as the overly friendly, perpetually cheerful and well-adjusted NT. His personality is a bit of Barney, a bit of Pillsbury Dough Boy, a bit of Tigger, and a bit of the Walmart greeter we all want to punch out. Naturally, Fuzzy hates his guts. You can see him take out his aggression in such cartoons as “Instant Moron-Maker” and “Twitter.”

Squishy Bird is still a meddling buttinsky, prone to do more harm than good in his attempts to be helpful. But as often as he gets knocked out, he’ll pop right back up with that amused smile on his face.

Hold on… who’s that? Somebody just came in… Hey, leggo of my keyboard, you!

Hello! I’m Squishy Bird!

Squishy Bird, get out of here. I’m writing a post!

I have a message to the peoples! Hellooo, peoples in the Internet! This is very important! You need to reset your linkee linkees to dudeimanaspie.com, for more cartoons about meeeee!

Oh. Well, that’s actually very helpful. Thank you, Squishy Bird.

And may I say too, also, a Squishy New Yeeeaar!1!! I give to you, a big squooshy hug! And…

POW!

Oooof...

Sorry about that, folks. Sometimes, you just gotta do that. As I was saying.

Oh, yes. He’s the indestructible, the inscrutable, the squishable. The legend. You cannot resist the Squish.

On My Way

2010-12-31T09:23:00.000-05:00

I have mixed feelings about personal year-end inventories. 2010 for me meant health challenges, professional challenges, lots of uncertainty, and lots of disappointment. There is much I’d just as soon forget. But, there are positives too.

Reverb10 is an online initiative to reflect on your year and manifest what’s next. Every day in December, it has offered writing prompts that make you think differently. Today's the last day of a 31-day challenge. So although I’m late to the game, I chose a few questions I found interesting.

Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).
This one is hard. I had a few of these moments in ‘09. But 2010 was a year I didn’t travel anywhere new. This was a year I didn’t take pictures. So I will pick a moment from the Asperger’s teen/tween board game night where I volunteer. I brought in Quelf, a random, wacky game that incorporates trivia, charades, silly rules, and characters like Queen Spatula and Super Ninja Monkey. It’s a game I find both ingenious and intimidating, one that pushes me outside my comfort zone socially. But it turned out to be a huge hit with the kids. At various points, I covered myself in magazine wrapping paper, gave a speech about biscuits, and ended every sentence with “-izzle!” We laughed, we improvised, and we stretched outside ourselves. Now the kids ask to play it every time.

Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011?
Of all the online groups I take part in, I feel the most sense of community among autism bloggers. This was perhaps most true on Autistics Speaking Day. I haven’t met any of you face to face, but to share in this movement with you, to visit and comment on your posts, and to have you visit mine, was truly a feeling of connection. On November 1, it was Halloween all over again, going from blog to blog to see the treats you had written. I’m sure this connection will only continue to grow for me in the next year.

Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful.
I know what this is. I cannot articulate it, but, yes, I know. My best qualities lie deep beneath the surface. They are liable to missed by most, even by those I see every day. I do not trumpet these things. They demand time and attention to be revealed. And I’ve decided that is okay. I’m content to blend into the background for the majority of those I meet, and to focus my attention on those few for whom I stand out, and stop them in their tracks.

What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out?
I came back and resumed this blog in May after taking a break. I wasn’t sure I would continue. I’d published a book in January, but now I was at a crossroads as to whether Asperger’s was a joy or a curse. In the end, I decided it was both, and that it was worth writing about. Since then, I’ve been going strong, and I’m here to stay. This week I took another step forward, with the launch of dudeimanaspie.com.

How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst?
Who was my Person of the Year? This year, no one person stands out who changed my life for the better. So I’m going to pick a fictional character who did.

"Fantastic Mr. Fox" came out in ’09, but I first saw it this year. It became my new favorite movie for its handcrafted animation, its otherworldly soundtrack, and for Ash. Ash is just… different. He's socially awkward, he twitches and spits, and he dresses like his favorite comic book character. He could easily be an Aspie. Ash can't stand being “different,” but in the end, his different-ness saves the day. For all of us real-life outsiders and misfits, his character portrays our experience with exceptional realism and sensitivity. Hey, Wes Anderson, give him a sequel or a series – we need more! For reminding me that different is fantastic, Ash is my 2010 Fox of The Year!

What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011?
As I said above, this was a year of challenges. I take it as a victory that I have weathered and survived them if not overcome them. I have healing yet to do. But I needed to hang onto something to keep me going. At times, it was very much drip-drip-drip. I pushed myself forward, because it was the only choice. Uncle Iroh said it well in "Avatar, The Last Airbender." “Life is like this dark tunnel. You may not always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you just keep moving, you will come to a better place.” Yes, cartoons are profound.

What was the best moment that could serve as proof that everything is going to be alright? And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead?
I think I like this question the best. When I think about it, I do have something that gives me hope. My readers, my fans, and my followers. The fact that you’re interested in what I have to say. I know that if I keep posting, through the ups and downs, you’ll be here to listen, to leave a comment, or to Like This. My take-away from this knowledge? Just keep on doin’ what I’m doin’.

As a closing thought for 2010, I want to leave you with the words of The Cat Empire, from a song they put out this year called “On My Way.”

And if you want to shine
As the sea looks to the stars
And well, you're here, but very far.

And I'm on my way
To where I won't look back.
I heard you say, with dismay,
“We're living on the tracks,
I hear the train,”
Whoa oh oh oh oh oh oh
Whoa oh oh oh oh oh oh

Life goes on, and time marches on. None of us makes it out of here alive. You are here now, and the flame of your life is yours to burn as bright as you can, for as long as you can. It’s your choice to spend each day so that when you’re gone, they say you gave your all.

This year more than ever before, I can say I burned. I put it all out there. I forgave imperfection, made fewer apologies, and pushed ahead in spite of doubts. I have every expectation it will get harder. I fully expect my hard work may not pay off. I can only do my best and follow my heart. So here’s to going onward, along this unknown path. Here’s to going on my way, to where I won’t look back.

See you in 2011.

Quelf is copyright Imagination and Wiggity Bang Games.
Fantastic Mr. Fox is copyright Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, Indian Paintbrush Productions LLC and Regency Entertainment.

Meet The Characters: Dinky Doughnuts

2010-12-26T10:29:00.001-05:00

Dinky Doughnuts is the doggie of “Dude.” Often he provides a level-headed counterpoint to the more excitable and angst-prone Fuzzy. Dinky is an NT who is friendly, yet mellow. He does not always understand Fuzzy’s Aspie behavior, as shown in “Noodle” and “Cookies and Cream.” His origins are quite extensive.

Dinky first appeared in January 1986 in “Slick Says Short Stupid Sam Stories,” my comic-within-a-newpaper. He did not have a name at this time. In the comic, Dinky repeatedly interrupts Slick mid-story with his scenery-chewing walk-ons. Slick finds this adorable, but Sam gets annoyed and plots to kidnap Dinky. Sam then frames Q-Bert for the crime, but a secret video captures the whole thing, Q-Bert is cleared, and Sam is sent to jail.

First appearance of Dinky Doughnuts, January 7, 1986

Dinky Doughnuts opens a can of whoop-ass on Sam, Jan. 7, 1986

Dinky became a regular character and was quite a ham in his early days. He had a unique quality of breaking the third wall by sitting on top of the other characters’ speech bubbles, or inside them.

Defying the laws of cartoon physics, Feb. 12, 1986

Whooz Whooz on Dinky Doughnuts, Feb. 18, 1986

However, his own dialogue was limited to thought bubbles or different creative spellings of “Woof!” (Ironically, he would have made a very good Aspie.) His Whooz Whooz entry refers to him as “Slick’s Doggy,” and lists his weight as 1 doggy and his height as 1/4 doggy.

Contest announcement, March 13, 1986

Eventually, I held a contest for my readers to name the doggy. The winning submission of Dinky Doughnuts came from Molly, who supplied the name Fuzzysnussle as well.

Dinky began to show some very specific personality quirks, one of which was an extreme appetite for Doritos. Another was to spontaneously break into song. These two traits came into play in a subplot to the story “A Challenge From Coily,” in which Dinky Doughnuts and Slickette try to occupy themselves while the other characters take part in a Q-Bert game. Dinky auditions with a group of singing Doritos and joins them onstage for “Dinky Doughnuts’ Dorito Disco.” It has also been established that Dinky Doughnuts is a dachshund. Is that enough D’s for you?

"Dinky Doughnuts' Dorito Disco," May 1, 1986

I have retained Dinky’s singing talent in his 2010 incarnation, as you can see in "Cinnamon Bears" and "A Dude’s Thanksgiving."

Dinky also makes a cameo in the original Dude, I’m An Aspie! Can you find him?

He is probably my easiest character to draw, since he has barely noticeable arms or legs. However, this also makes it hard to convey action and expressions with him, so you’re most likely to find him laying on the ground, chillin’ out, and observing. I have never had a dog, but if I did, that’s the kind I would have. The laying on the ground kind.

I have great fondness for Dinky as a character, although I think he needs some further development. I feel like I’ve toned down his eccentricity a bit too much. You can surely expect he’ll pop up now and then in future cartoons.

Rudolph

2010-12-24T10:24:00.000-05:00

Several years ago I worked as a volunteer at my local Boys and Girls Club. I started a newspaper club in which we collected the kids’ poems, cartoons, and creative writing and printed it as a newspaper for everyone. It was called the Wazzup Weekly.

Here is a cartoon from December 2001 by 12 year old Tanei. I think you will recognize a character of mine dueting with a dog on a popular Christmas carol. Merry Christmas everyone!

Hey! You or your kids can draw your own Fuzzy cartoon. Share it on our Facebook page, and maybe I’ll post some here.

Meet The Characters: Fuzzysnussle

2010-12-19T11:52:00.001-05:00

As you know from previous posts, I have a 25-year history in cartooning. The characters I use in this blog go back to those early days. Now that they’re OMG-famous!, it’s high time to give them a proper introduction.

Fuzzysnussle is the large-nosed face of the franchise that is Dude, I'm An Aspie, if you can call it a franchise. When I set out to draw my first post, I needed a character to represent me. He had to be easy to draw, because it had been a long time between cartoons.

Fuzzysnussle was created by my friend Molly in 5th grade in 1986 in a guest spot in my newspaper "Terminator." She supplied the first drawing of him, the name, and a capsule backstory. He had come to Earth from the planet Quirk. And, he liked horses.

First appearance of Fuzzysnussle, Feb. 18, 1986

... And that was the extent of the backstory. I adopted the character and used him as a supporting cast member, managing to give him hardly any personality.

Fuzzy displayed some hero qualities early on, in an appearance in my comic strip “Slick Says Short Stupid Sam Stories.” It was Fuzzy who brought the antidote after an attack by the Mad Moustacher, which was a Robby Spongy Bit. (More effective than shaving cream.) He then helped the crew foil her evil plan.

"The Mad Moustacher," Feb. 24, 1986

Fuzzy had much shorter hair back then. He also spoke in cursive at first, but later in print, presumably as he learned the language of the Earthlings. It was later revealed that he had a cousin named Fussysnuzzle (pictured at far right above), who had even less personality.

Fizzysnussle, Feb. 1986

When you mix a Fuzzysnussle with Pespi, what do you get? A Fizzysnussle.

"Return of the Mad Moustacher," June 1986

Later, a new Mad Moustacher returned to seek revenge, and Fuzzy again joined our heroes to battle her. He had acquired a train at this point, which served as an effective mode of transportation.

In “Piggy Parties, The Book,” set 20 years in the future in 2006, Fuzzysnussle’s cousin was killed in World War III by a graduate of Laser Tag Academy. Overcome by grief and rage, he turned vigilante and swore revenge on the enemy, Khadaffy IV. In a vengeful, yet brave display, Fuzzy singlehandedly penetrated palace defenses, marched in unarmed, and adminstered a fatal head-plucking. He thus saved the world.

"Piggy Parties, The Book," Fall 1986

All that history, to say, the Fuzzy personality was effectively a blank slate when Dude came around.

The Fuzzy of 2010 is much more of a developed character. I use him to represent Aspie traits and point of view. I often use him to speak for myself, though not always.

It’s been great fun to watch him evolve over the past year and to give him a much greater range of expressions than he ever had. Although he remains easy to draw, it can take several tries to get his expression just right. Fuzzy has his contemplative moments, as shown in “Simply Be,” his hysterical ones as in “Instant Moron-Maker,” and his indecisive ones, as in “I’m An Aspie, Period.”

It is a thrill to think that he’s become an informal icon of Aspgerger’s. Not bad for a fuzzball from the planet Quirk.

Cookies and Cream

2010-12-15T20:17:00.000-05:00

Why'd

2010-12-11T09:11:00.000-05:00

Damn. Why’d I buy this new monitor? It’s a widescreen. Nothing looks right.

Why’d I rush into this purchase? My old monitor suddenly went kaput yesterday, and I panicked. Why'd this have to happen? Got to have computer access. So I rushed out to the store today. Just get the same size, no problem, right?

But it’s not the same. It’s too wide. It’s too short. It feels… alien. Like someone took and stretched out my eyes. My reality is altered. It’s all wrong. My desktop! My blog! My Internet peeps! You don’t look right at all.

Why’d I let the salesman talk me into it? It’s his fault! No, no, it’s my fault! Damn, why’d I make a snap decision? Why didn’t I take my time like I always do?

When did my computer become such a lifeline that I can’t take a day or two off? When did I become one of “those people?”

And why is it such a big deal to me? Why can’t I just get used to the widescreen? It’s all they make now… millions of people can’t be wrong… And yet, why does it feel like I’ll never enjoy blogging again? Why does change hurt so much?

Sigh. Nothing to do but get used to it. I just need to get my reality back in its place. Better than trying to answer these impossible questions. Like… Why’s my sense of balance so easily thrown off?... and… Why me?

Special Interests: Cartoon Beginnings

2010-12-05T11:16:00.001-05:00

This is post #50. For this special occasion, I’ve saved a special interest. Today I will share with you how I began with my cartoons, and why they are so intimately tied to my Asperger’s.

I hadn’t done any cartooning in over 20 years, prior to Dude, I’m An Aspie! It was something I did as a kid, just for fun, for myself, with great intensity. But last year when I learned about Asperger’s and special interests, my cartooning phase was no longer just a peculiar activity. I understood now why I did it the way I did. I also understood why I needed to pick the pencil up and start again.

I wrote my own newspaper from age 9 to 11, on notebook paper, in pencil. Usually in class, after I finished my work, or during indoor recess. It was part news report, part tabloid, part comic book, and part activity book. I called it “a News,” or in plural, “Newses.”

Each News was a numbered issue in a series, carefully dated. I easily churned out over 50 issues at my peak output during my 5th grade school year. Unlike their contemporary, the Sayings Book, the Newses survived all this time in folders on my closet shelf.

The Newses went by several titles during their run. The very first ones, when I was maybe 7, were called "Pooh News." This was later followed by "Noo-Noo News."

Noo-Noo News Vol. 10, Issue 4, December 10, 1985

With Volume 11, the name changed to “Terminator: The End of Robby and Much More - In a Newspaper!” Robby was a friend and often the butt of the joke. It was all in fun. Really.

Terminator Vol. 12, Issue 1, January 23, 1986

“Terminator” had the best logos.

Terminator Vol. 13, Issue 1, Feb. 21, 1986

Terminator Vol. 14, Issue 4, March 16, 1986. Around this time, I acquired colored pencils.

And with Volume 16, another title change took place to “Piggy Parties.” This name, as with “Terminator,” was the winner of a contest among my friends.

Piggy Parties Vol. 16, Issue 2, April 23, 1986

For content, I drew on my observations. The day the clock went crazy. The day my friend dropped a strudel on the ground on a field trip. The time I made Green Lantern a vehicle out of lego. And, over a three issue stretch, I recorded all of my Hanukkah presents in order.

I also drew on my creativity, reimagining classmates as super heroes and villains like Little Big Pants, The Cucumber, and Ding Dong the Kangaroo.

Whooz Whooz entry for Ding Dong, in the style of DC Comics' Who's Who. From Terminator Vol. 14, Issue 2, March 11, 1986.

Artistically, I was most influenced by Jim Davis and “Garfield,” and emboldened by the step-by-step approach in Ed Emberly’s series of Big Drawing Books.

"How to Draw a Laying-Down Odie." From Noo-Noo News, Vol. 7, Issue 4, March 4, 1985.

The News had an endless variety of regular features.

Fake ads, such as the principal’s spanking paddle.
Lost & Found: “Found: Pizza. Yummy side down. Stepped on.”
Believe It Or Not: “We saw four Toys R Us commercials in a row! Believe it or not!”
The Daily Blah, which was activities like unscrambling words or quizzes: “What are the words you say to form Voltron?”
And there was a letters column, which I wrote and answered myself.

Looking back, in the context of a special interest, I see these sections as my fascination with the parts of a written publication. They served as a valuable structure in which to categorize all my ideas and doodles.

Odie reports on the mysterious appearance of a new wall in the classroom. From Noo-Noo News Vol. 7, Issue 2, Feb. 25, 1985.

The Weird Dictionary. From Terminator Vol. 11, Issue 1. Dec. 16, 1985.

For characters, I had very few originals in those days. I used Odie, but not Garfield. He was easier to draw, and was always a way more interesting character to me. I also used all the Q-Bert characters, despite the fact that I never played the video game. I developed a regular comic strip called “Slick Says Short Stupid Sam Stories.” S.S.S.S.S.S. became the centerpiece of each issue, with classic storylines such as the gang’s battle with the Mad Moustacher, Slick’s whirlwind romance with Slickette, and the epic 8-part series where Slick turned blue.

First appearance of "Slick Says Short Stupid Sam Stories." From Noo-Noo News Vol. 7, Issue 3. Feb. 26, 1985.

It all culminated in an 18-page project in the fall of ’86 called “Piggy Parties, The Book,” which was a parody of Transformers, The Movie. It took place 20 years in the distant future, in 2006, in which major characters died, morphed, had kids, etc. etc.

Odie meets his destiny at the hands of the Great Hubbabutt. From Piggy Parties, The Book, Fall 1986.

My elementary school friends were fans of the Newses, but their interest paled in comparison to my own. I was fine with that balance for awhile. I wrote for myself. It enabled me to indulge the weird workings of my mind, and create a universe unto itself. But eventually, when I changed schools and failed to gain new fans, creating for myself lost its appeal. In the years that followed, I made a few attempts to restyle my characters and go “all original,” but those always found their way to the trash bin. The Newses, however, stayed on, on my closet shelf. They carried some great importance, which I couldn’t put my finger on, but which was undeniable.

To understand Asperger’s as a positive thing, for me, is to understand why I made the Newses. They are irreverent, idiosynchratic, incomprehensible, and an essential portrait of who I was at age 10. The time I spent on them was unquestionably enjoyable, as I often churned out entire issues in a few days in bursts of free-flowing creativity. They are my most special of special interests.

That's why, when I disclosed my Asperger's, Dude, I’m An Aspie! had to be a cartoon. When I drew it, and when I started this blog, it was my hope that I’d be carrying on the spirit of the News. I feel like I’ve done my 10-year-old self proud. Who would have thought I would one day have an audience around the world? It is an amazing thing, and I thank you for being a part of it and for keeping me going.

But wait, the best is yet to come! In upcoming posts, we’ll meet the characters you’ve come to know from Dude, I’m An Aspie, and look at their beginnings in the pages of the News.

Retro Mommy Blog, Part 2

2010-12-01T18:57:00.001-05:00

Continuing our series on what mommy blogging might have looked like back when I was a young'un.

Saturday, December 14, 1985

8 Presents and 1 Happy Kid

Tonight was the 8th night of Hanukkah. The candles are burning down and the last presents have all been opened. Poohboy is watching over my shoulder as I write. He wants me to write about the presents he got. Why not? When in doubt about what to write, ask the 10 year old.

Okay, what did you get the first night? Silverbolt. Which one is he, a Transformer? I thought we had all of them. They keep making more. Oh, I see, it’s an Aerialbot. Well, as long as you’re happy. What’s that? You wish you got Modulok like your brother? Sigh… let’s just move on.

On the second night, you got Switchblade. That’s a plane too, right? Oh, that’s M.A.S.K., he says.

Night 3 was the 2nd Garfield Treasury. You seem unimpressed with that, Poohboy. But Garfield's your favorite! Well, yes, they’re the same Sunday strips you already have in your other Garfield books. No, Jim Davis doesn’t do new ones for it! We went through this with the 1st Treasury!

On night 4, you got the Garfield 1986 calendar, “Big Fat Hairy Dreams.” That one, you’re happy with? It has new content? Mazel tov.

On night 5 you got the Black Lion. That must be a Transformer. No? So how come your brothers also got lions, and they all go together to form a robot? Voltron? Good grief. Don’t roll your eyes at me, I don’t know how you keep them all straight.

Okay, what was night 6? Thunderhawk? You seemed happy with that. Another M.A.S.K.? Oh, this one’s the good guy. Poohboy’s singing the theme song now.

And on night 7, you got a $5 gift certificate to Captain Blue Hen. I know you’re excited about that. That’ll buy a whole stack of comic books. Can you go tomorrow? Ask your father.

And tonight, what did you get? Thundercracker? Is that like Thunderhawk? Oh, this one’s a Transformer. And a bad guy. And Thundercracker’s a plane, not a car… OK, I give up.

And you also got a Frizzly tonight. You haven’t stopped playing with that. It’s a little fuzzy worm with an invisible string you pull along behind you. So cute! I’m glad you like him. Thundercracker’s still in the box? Oh, okay. All in good time.

Thanks for helping me write tonight’s post, Poohboy! You have such a good memory. You remembered all your presents in exact order. Now, if you remember any of them in 25 years, that would really be impressive.

Okay Poohboy, you can go now. Mommy needs a break. Have you practiced your lines for the school play? Yes? Hmmm… I know! We can always sing another round of “Oh Hanukkah, Oh Hanukkah…”

Yeah, he bolted out of here at that. And so did the Frizzly.

Well, it’s true what they say. The holidays are all about the kids, am I right? Tonight, mine are happy, and that means, so am I.

I hope the holidays bring you and your family everything that you wish for.

Posted by mom2poohboy at 8:25 PM
0 Comments

Photo credits: mverde, Flickr Creative Commons. Amazon.com. abebooks.com. jquiz, Flickr Creative Commons

A Dude's Thanksgiving

2010-11-25T12:16:00.000-05:00

Spectrum Soundtrack: Just By Myself

2010-11-21T09:26:00.001-05:00

Spectrum Soundtrack is songs that speak to me as a person with Asperger’s, even though they may be about something entirely unrelated. Greg Brown’s “Just By Myself” is one of those songs.

This song is about moving on after a breakup. It’s about rediscovering all the mundane, everyday things you can do now that you’re single again. But for me, it’s also an ode to enjoying your own company.

I first heard this song come on WRNR radio in 1996, living in Baltimore in my junior year of college. After two years of living on campus in the dorms, with roommates, I now had my first apartment on my own. It was a milestone that I both looked forward to, and found scary. At the outset, I didn’t know what to do with all this freedom. I was not socializing or joining groups on campus. I went to class, and I came home. I was on my own, quite literally.

I fell into a routine of grocery shopping, bill payments, and laundry. I listened to the radio, wasted time on usenet, and watched TV. I ventured out in the car to explore. And I went for walks around Charles Village and Hampden. When Greg Brown came on the radio, he was telling me I was doing just fine.

I'll walk around
some ancient city,
scribble in my notebook,
and drink my tea.
I don't have to make love,
'cause love made me,
and I'll be happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy by myself.

I very much prefer the live version of “Just By Myself.” It has a rhythm to it, in just the guitar and vocals, that you can really get caught up in. The studio version on the “Dream Café” album is much more somber and serious, and kind of makes you question whether this guy is really happy, or still trying to convince himself. But in the live recording, there’s no doubt. Brown is an upbeat wiseguy here, comfortable in his solitary skin. He even throws in a nice “nyah-nyah-nyah” to really stick it to his ex, or in my mind, to those who don’t know the joy of solitude.

Is it joyful to be by myself? Yes, sometimes. Sometimes not. I must say I’m by myself more by nature than by choice. There were good things about having roommates, but it got to feel like a perpetual performance. When I’m in my home, I don’t want to have to “perform.” I want to be myself, and I want to be tuned in to whatever that little voice in my head has to tell me.

Way down in my dreams, find sweet release.
and I'll be happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy by myself.

Toward the end of the song, Brown revisits his earlier lyrics with an extra punch of humor, making it clear he’s not out to please anyone else.

I fold the laundry like I want to, I might not even fold it, I might just wad it up and stick it in a bag, happy happy happy…
I put the sheets on like I want to, I might not even tuck the ends in tight, I might just leave ‘em loose so I can kick my legs out if I want to, happy happy happy…

Well, I still fold my laundry, and I still tuck my sheets in. But, I have my peculiar indulgences like anyone else. When I’m by myself…
… I can let out that sigh I’ve been stifling all day.
… I don’t have to “fix” the look on my face.
… I can let a song stop me from what I’m doing and transport me somewhere.
… and I can generally be quirky in ways I don’t care to share with others.

There’s an oft-repeated joke about the parent who found a cure for autism. She sent her child to his room and closed the door, and all his symptoms miraculously disappeared. Sometimes, alone is where we are most happy.

What makes you happy, just by yourself?

Big Dreams

2010-11-14T11:29:00.004-05:00

I am stressed, these days. I am working hard, and it seems there are not enough hours for what I want to do. What am I doing?

Only 15-20% of people with Asperger’s are employed, the stats say. That puts me in elite company. I should feel like a success, then, right? I should be grateful. I should have it easy.

But I don’t. I have big dreams. I’m not content with what I have. I’m a non-profit marketer/fundraiser. I’m good at it, and I like what I do. I work in behavioral health now, but autism is my passion. I want to follow that. Continue to do what I do, in the field that matters to me. Big dream, but I don’t know how to get there. Is it possible?

How did I get here? It once seemed impossible. I have not had it easy.

I didn’t get my first job until I was 19. It lasted all of one week. I bagged groceries, collected shopping carts, and rotated the milk. When they scheduled me opposite my favorite TV show, I left.

The next summer I worked as a busboy at a chain buffet, clearing away melted ice cream-cherry cobbler conglomerations. I had four supervisors, one of whom nicknamed me “Stoneface.” My lasting memory is of her voice barking, “Clean dem win-dezz! An’ this time, dew ‘em right!” I kept the job for a month.

A year later, I took an office support position during in my senior year of college. The job description was split between data entry and answering phones. Early on, I indicated discomfort with the phones. They scolded me at first, but then, they adapted the job to let me focus on data entry. I turned out to be the most accurate in the office. I even developed a guide we all used to decipher the client’s sloppy handwriting. I stayed 7 months there, until graduation.

Just finding opportunities was the hardest thing back then. I had no personal contacts, and internet job listings were still fairly new. At 22, on winter break from grad school, I took a job I’m rather ashamed to mention. I worked for a temp agency in a warehouse, opening and sorting junk mail. It was clearly intended for people without the skills to do anything else, who took the bus in from the city and gossiped cheerfully as they worked. And here I was, a college graduate, feeling very out of place. Better things were out there, I knew, I just couldn’t find them.

Grad school did not work out. My grades fell below the minimum requirement, and I was doubting my choice of field, engineering. I was about to be thrust out into the market for full time work, having never had so much as an internship. But in the nick of time, a professor connected me with a startup R&D company. They paid me to write grant proposals, working from home. It wasn’t enough to live on, and it was isolating.

I asked for a full time position, and space at the office, but the boss resisted. He did, however, offer me a proposition. I could put a portion of my fee “at risk,” and if the proposal was funded, I increase my earnings ten-fold. If not, I lose it all.

I am not a gambler by any stretch, but I was confident in my work. I took him up on his offer. And I won, turning $500 into $5000. Soon after that, I was hired for my first full time position.

Two years later, I had a new “big dream.” Having found success as a grant writer, I was ready to leave engineering and work for a non-profit. That kind of career change is difficult for anyone, let alone with Asperger’s challenges. I sent out dozens of applications, and went on more than ten interviews. The one time I got an offer, I botched the salary negotiation. My search grew frustrating and dragged on for months.

Then, I went on an interview that was different. It was a non-corporate, grass-roots environment. The people I met with were candid and direct. They spoke their mind, with no B.S. They loved what they did, and clearly believed in people over polish. It was a drug treatment center, and I was biased and resistant to the idea. So much so, that I turned down their offer for a second interview.

But three months later, with nothing else having come along, and the refreshing vibe I got still enticing me, I went back, and they welcomed me. They asked my salary requirements, then offered me more. It was a vote of confidence like I’d never had. Their faith that I, an engineer, could do their fundraising, filled me with a sense of value, and it carried over into my performance. I brought in millions in funds, I transformed their Web site, I turned data into charts and graphs, and I learned the art of advocacy through storytelling. I worked for that supervisor for nearly 8 years, until her retirement.

Now, I am looking for a development/communications role in the autism field. Not every advocate steps into a professional role, but I have the background for it. It’s just a natural fit. It’s realistic and possible. But I know I’m looking for a needle in a haystack. Something customized to my strengths and weaknesses.

What will it take this time? To be imaginative and resourceful in my search? To scratch and claw my way to be taken seriously? To meet the right person at the right time? Big dreams will only take you so far; someone needs to give you a chance. And each time I’ve been given a chance, I’ve proven myself, and often gone above and beyond expectations.

I may look successful to you, but in my own mind, I’ve not yet begun to do my life’s work. I do not fit anybody’s mold, and though I’ve never lost a job, I could easily find myself out on the street someday, or back in the mailroom. I take nothing for granted. I have my big dream, and now I’m waiting. Waiting for a chance.

If you would like to network with me professionally, I welcome connections on LinkedIn or Twitter.

Laugh

2010-11-07T09:55:00.000-05:00

Autistics Speaking Day: The Path to Understanding

2010-11-01T06:00:00.002-04:00

Today is Autistics Speaking Day, a counter-campaign to the Communication Shutdown. If you’re a first time visitor to my blog, welcome! I’m glad you stopped by.

I disagree with the message of the Shutdown. But I still support you if you’re taking part, because we need awareness and funds raised by any means (that don’t disregard autism facts and science).

I am speaking out, 1) with today’s post, 2) by sharing some of my favorite links on Facebook and Twitter, and 3) by encouraging you to make a charitable donation to an autism organization of your choice. I am supporting my local agency Autism Delaware through my annual United Way contribution. I also recommend GRASP, the Global and Regional Asperger Syndrome Partnership.

I want to begin with a few words about social media. Yes, shutting down your social media for a day draws attention to a cause. No, it does not help you understand how it feels to be autistic. Ironically, you can get perhaps the best explanations of autism via social media.

My own cartoon, Dude, I’m An Aspie! owes its success to social media. And by success, I don’t mean hits, or dollars, but understanding. The project was conceived as a Facebook photo album to disclose to my friends, and nothing more. By happy coincidence, I posted it exactly one year ago today, 11/1/09. Here are some of the comments my friends made:

“I really enjoyed reading this and learned a lot.”
“Now I understand better, thank you!”
“Very illuminating. Thank you for sharing.”

It was a heartening feeling. I went on to share the cartoon in online Asperger’s communities, to continued praise.

“Wow, does that ever define me.”
“One of the best ways of explaining AS I've ever read.”
“I've saved a copy to possibly use with my students in the future.”

And from there, "Dude" became a blog, and then a book. So without social media, there would be no "Dude, I’m An Aspie!" How else would I have disclosed if I could not have done it through cartoons? “Um, excuse me, there’s something I need to tell you about myself…” It’s more likely I would not have disclosed at all.

Instead, I’ve done it coherently, confidently, and humorously. Many others have used my cartoon for their disclosure. Over 1,300 individuals have visited my blog in the past 3 months. Indeed, for many of us on the spectrum, social media is truly our comfort zone. It would be unthinkable to shut that down.

I wish you could understand what it’s like to be me. I wish shutting down your social network for a day would do it. I wish my cartoons would do it, but even that gives you just a small glimpse. And just by listening to me does not mean you understand autism.

This is called Autistics Speaking Day, but I don’t speak for autistics. I speak for myself, and that’s the best I can do. None of us can speak for all of us. The autism blogosphere is richly diverse. We are the pro-cure and the pro-neurodiversity, the nonverbal and the Aspies, the diagnosed and the self-identified. We often disagree, to put it mildly.

Among us are bloggers who have viciously attacked others as “faux autistics” because they can hold down a job, act natural on camera, or dare to align themselves with the dreaded Autism Speaks. At the other end of the spectrum are bloggers who are happily married with families, and are published authors, or eloquent speakers. Both get under my skin for very different reasons. But I would not silence any of their voices. We need to hear from them all, and I include in “we” the autistic community as well as neurotypicals. Kathleen Leopold and Kim Wombles of the Autism Blogs Directory said it best:

“We are a community; we share common bonds and common ground, and we need, even as we disagree, to remember this. Because if we don't, we destroy what common ground we have.”

I think no statement better describes my hopes for Autistics Speaking Day. It explains why I also support the Shutdown. I have only been an autism advocate for about a year, but I have worked in the non-profit arena for nearly a decade. If you want to bring about change for an issue as complex as autism, you must build consensus and respect diversity. Anger and infighting will get you nowhere. The hostility and name-calling I’ve seen from both sides around the Shutdown and Autistics Speaking is shameful, and nauseating.

Which brings us back to the question, how can you understand autism? When you’ve met one autistic, you’ve met one autistic. Is understanding even possible with such diversity? I think so, and here’s how:

You can never understand us as a block, by lumping us all together. Only as individuals. I think that goes for understanding people. Not just autistic people, but gay people, or Tea Party people, or Muslim people, or whatever. Sit down, open your mind, and listen to us one at a time. That’s the best you can do.

So I encourage you, after you’ve visited my blog, to check out other voices in our community. If you see something you like, leave a comment, or share it with your social network. If you’re inclined to donate to a helping organization, thank you. And I hope you’ll stay connected with our community. We need as many voices as we can get, contributing to a passionate, educated, civil discourse about autism. That is the path to understanding.

Welcome.

What is your favorite design?
	1 - NO EVOLUTION WITHOUT AUTISM. Humanity has always depended on the different, to look ahead.
	2 - AUTISTIC GENES. Useful to our species, useful to our world.
	3 - NEURODIVERSITY. We need everyone to make the world.
	4 - NEUROTYPICAL IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

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