The New Wild

Absurdity

Square and Round

Square, you’re oddly shaped,

You don’t fit in there.

Round would be best to fill this role,

But since you’re here, you’ll have to do.

It may not be fair, Square, but we’ll make do.

You may not be aware, Square,

Of the way Round did it before you,

And how easy it came,

But surely you can do the same.

Not to compare, Square, but you’ve big shoes to fill.

Square, you have useful functions,

But very little flair.

Always strive to be more well-Rounded.

Or stay in your corner. Prefer solitaire?

See if I care, Square. Suit yourself.

Square, you’re rough around the edges.

Round rolls with everything that comes his way.

Not to put you down,

For not bein’ Round.

You’ve got too many sides there, Square. Just sayin’.

Round bounces back so easily,

When you fail, Square, you just sit and stare.

Don’t make excuses, just say you’re sorry.

It’s not your fault you were born a Square,

Just your burden to bear.

Your ways confuse me, Square,

Disrupt the flow.

You don’t sound like Round.

Hard to figure you out.

Can’t you act less impaired, Square? Just askin’.

You don’t like what I say, Square?

Defy me if you dare.

A three Round Square-off!

Are you down? Didn’t think so.

So don’t complain, Square. Deal.

No place for rebels here, Square.

We’ll break your spirit, Round off those edges…

No, what have you done?

It’s not possible!

You’ve broken the mold, and done it better

Than all who came before.

And now, no Round can never fill your shoes.

Well done, then. A Round of applause for you,

The perfect Square.

Stoking the Fire

Are cartoon characters alive? Do they die? Do they know we exist?

When you’re on the spectrum, it’s not unusual to bond more easily with a fictional character than with real people. It’s neither right nor wrong; it’s simply a fact of life. So, philosophical questions like these take on legitimate importance. Because if you've found, as I have, that obsession over fictional works is a state of bliss, it follows that you want that obsession to last. But how?

Discussions on the topic abound on Wrong Planet: "Do you wish fictional characters were real?" “Yes, I do. Sometimes desperately enough to make myself feel sick. *shrug*,” says BelindatheNobody. "Sure would bring color and smiles to this grey and unhappy world... Sigh... :(" adds Celtic Frost.

"Does anyone think of a favorite character as your alter-ego?" another topic asks. "I go so far as to have 'conversations' with some of them," says a user named conundrum. "On occasion, this actually helps me figure stuff out. :)" "I pretend… they are my imaginary friends who support me and encourage me," writes IdahoRose. "Oftentimes [they] possess characteristics that are present in my own personality, so I guess you could say they bring out the best in me." CMD explains that she identifies with characters who are fellow outsiders. "Whenever I become upset over how different I am from others, I try to figure out how they coped."

Latching onto a fantasy can be incredibly uplifting, and practical, however illogical it might seem. Fortunately, there are many ways for us to feed our daydream.

Fandom today goes far beyond watching a TV show or reading a book. It’s creating fan art, writing fanfic, partaking in cosplay, joining online communities, and more. In this way, I think fictional characters can be said to be alive. They live inside us when we draw them, or write stories about them, or debate what they would do. Fantasy universes are our modern-day legends, like folklore of old, handed down through past generations.

At the same time, our obsessions can also be deeply personal. I watch a cartoon by myself, but in a community, I encounter other fans, each with their own personal interpretation. Maybe another fan’s vision supports my own, or maybe it clashes. Personally, I won’t read fanfic when it comes to my most beloved characters. Shipping? I find it juvenile and offensive. As for fan art, when it's respectful and faithful to the original, it can be awe-inspiring.

Can you imagine if our real-life relationships worked this way? If you had to draw a caricature of your best friend instead of talking with them? If you included a quote from your pilates partner at the bottom of your signature? If you put your sister and your former roommate into a romance, and then wrote scenarios for them? 

And yet, we go to these great lengths and more, to stoke our obsession with an imaginary character. Maybe that’s because even the most basic social interaction is prohibitive. Like talking to them. Like being able to shake their hand, Aw, heck, we'd like to give ‘em a big sloppy hug! It’s only a natural desire when you meet a real-life person you like; so why not fantasy characters, who are the most awesome people we know? Whoever develops the technology for personalized interaction with fictional characters, will make themselves a lot of money. I say, if we have Siri on our phones, why not Harry Potter? Pikachu? Sheldon Cooper? Insert your own preference.

So if fictional characters do possess a sort of "life," can they also die? We hate to see our favorite shows or books end. It can be like losing a friend. I found one take on this topic in a most unexpected place.

Angry Beavers was a late-90’s Nickelodeon cartoon. A show worth watching, if not worthy of obsessing over. Recently, I happened across the unaired final episode, "Bye Bye Beavers," on YouTube. What I found was far more edgy and profound than anything ever scripted in the show. In a fascinating 10 minutes of dialogue, heavy on ad-libs, the beavers learn they are animated characters in a cartoon, that is now ending, and they will cease to exist.

Norb: We’re over! How could they do this to us? There is no dog! My doofy brother, we’re goin’ buh-bye!

Dag: Bye-bye? Why-why?

Norb: Because we are over! As in done, through, finished, ended, terminated, extinguished, down for the count, adios …. We aren’t real! We’re animated characters in a cartoon. Real beavers don’t have appliances, they don’t use bathrooms, and they don’t talk!

The characters then proceed through the Stages-Of-Cartoon-Being-Over, from denial, to bargaining, to acceptance. They offer a few choice words for the network honchos who pulled the plug. Best of all, they interact with their own voice actors, and name-drop other characters they played in other cartoons. Basically, they confront the concept of "cartoon death" by obliterating their "cartoon reality."

"Bye Bye Beavers" is the kind of awesomeness you'd only expect from a hardcore fan. How cool is it, seeing it done by the people who made the cartoons? They acknowledge that the characters are something bigger than the show. They get it. They know what matters to fans like us.The characters cannot die. How can they, when we're here discussing them, ten years later?

A Beavers fan named dpstq expands on this point in a video commentary called "Bye bye beavers and its overall impact." "There’s more to this than just two characters breaking the fourth wall," he explains. The show’s creators, in making this final episode, "wanted us to see this not as a show, but as an experience."

Yes, most definitely, cartoons are an experience! True fans have known this for years. When you hear the Wrong Planet members talk about how much their favorite characters mean to them, can you doubt we’re no longer talking about just a TV show? Sometimes it’s a coping mechanism, or an imaginary friend, or a splash of color in an otherwise hopeless world. We live this stuff. It's something sacred.

The Beavers commentary goes on, “Imagine the kind of ending that last show would have had, if the creators, still making the characters aware of what they were, also made them aware of what they meant. It would have been a melancholy, bittersweet, but perfect ending. Even though Daggett and Norbert may vanish away forever, they knew that they were made for a reason.”

This is the key. What if fictional characters could speak to their devoted, emotionally invested fans, which describes the majority of us? Animaniacs spoke with tongue in cheek to its crazy, nit-picky fans in 1995’s "Please Please Pleese Get a Life Foundation." But I doubt the sincere approach has ever been done. What if our favorite characters knew we love them, and they loved us back?

That may be beyond the realm of the possible, so we depend on our imagination to make our fantasy last. "Don't stop imagining. The day that you do is the day that you die." goes the refrain of a song called "Seventeen" by Youth Lagoon. Indeed, fantasy is vital long past our youth. It keeps us hopeful, helps us deal with everyday problems, and enables us to learn about ourselves. As long as we keep imagining, we keep our inner fantasy worlds alive, and thereby, our own selves as well. Stoking the very fire of life energy within us.

I admit I have the most amazing conversations with my favorite fictional characters. They tend to be one-sided conversations, but, eh, what can you do? Not with my own characters though. That would be weird. Or maybe just redundant. But maybe some of you have talked with Fuzzy?

I haven’t stopped imagining. Have you?

To Be You, or Not To Be You

“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?

Conversations with Wolves (Willing, Part II)

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.

The Tree

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.

Alive