More troops needed for long struggle? Aren’t we supposed to be getting ready to leave Iraq?
I wrote an email to a friend about Aspergers. I’m just beginning to understand the impact it has played in my life, and plays. Bear with me please. My book is so much funnier for the stories I can now tell on myself. Here is a list of FAO‘s that I will put in the Aspergers page.
Of course there is a spate of books coming out by people with Aspergers. So busy not really believing it…but my book is different as it’s my story. And my life is still my life. Still a bit different than most people with some extraordinary people in it, including my father. It’s both in letters to my father looking back through the knowledge I have now or am learning, and my experiences–as in being taken for a very high class hooker because a madam had lived in my apartment, for 25 years before me, on East 63rd Street. God, does denial cost.
I will probably put three word Wednesday in on Friday. This has been an extraordinarily exhausting time
You have the Noah’s of the world who think I’m incredibly funny, pretty, bright, interesting. On the other hand you the people who would say in presence “there’s something off about her.” Stage whispers.
I’m perfectly normal looking. The only time my balance problem shows is walking down steps, not up them–love walking up steps that have something to take you down
I think too fast. Or I don’t think. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t put the cap back on the toothpaste because I’m on to something else–it’s a real brain problem, not laziness.
The last thing I am is lazy. And I’m extremely proficient at things like assessing people, managing, am a great tech writer or was. Think it would drive me crazy Great at logically dividing work. I’m ultra logical but would have failed logic in college if my teacher hadn’t had a crush on me and let me give out grades. We didn’t end up having a last two weeks of classes–threats of race riots–1969–so we just got pass, fail—next spring too–Kent State
I used to shake—but only in my head. I did constantly move—but that was endearing except to my father
I can’t learn games –except for scrabble etc
I’m not athletitic but have excellent swimming form–the wives in Riverdale hated it–used to be able to skate, can bike ride–but Lucia and I are scared to ride in Manhattan, and I used to constantly.
I bump into people,. Very hard to explain that type of spatial problem–can’t figure out the proper space
But I’m not the obnoxious type of Aspergerer who gets into peoples faces. And people constantly bump into me. I say “sorry” automatically, and sometimes they yell at me.
Can talk too much or too little.
Nobody in my wiriting class suspected anything which is why the first draft I had a panic attack over left them baffled. Rather my writing did as I left out so much.
Usually pass for normal. But I’m not. And nobody has ever given me a break. I’m not going to get much social security since I would burn out so much–and haven’t worked for money in five years.
Should have had my mother put me as an employee, pretend to pay me, and I should have paid the taxes There were times before she had an aide when she only wanted my help. Became very depressed because my life revolved around old people–old people lived in my building, worked with them, my mother–four fifths of her building was over 75
People expect the world from me. Like my ex-friend,the wife in my soap-star-couple/best friends-to-go-on vacation-with, really believed that I was going to save his job by writing for the soap. It was incomprehensible to most people, I didn’t know soap writing, and it was too boring to watch. I have a disorganized mind and people with organized minds couldn’t understand it.
Have always attracted attractive “popular” people. Was the girl all the girls who sat in the dorm wanted to be at my first college. I’m so many contradictions. Think they’re all Silicon Vally EVPs with husbands to match–would be their revenge. But I was nice to them–only treated people who went to my old high school horribly. Since this time I was the one with the power
We moved in seventh grade and I went from seventh through twelfth with all the same kids. They wanted to be my friend at first. I misread all their signals. Well not the girl who told me if I dared so much as look at a guy she would kill me–looked like she could–first day welcome to the gilded suburb.
Didn’t see that I was attractive and he was looking at me intently–told me years later, what he thought. Believed her.
Never noticed men looking at me. Yet I have been told that all men would–well construction workers but they would whistle and say things. And when I was in my 20’s and 30’s was always taken for a generic soap star. It didn’t make things easier. Actually harder because the packaging was wonderful, though I could find a thousand flaws.
I’m a very good reader. Always had the highest scores in my grade. Not math, though. Excel at standardized tests and essays. Not teacher’s tests–they mostly hated me in high school–except for the cool ones who all got fired and I was never allowed in the better teacher’s classes. My parents were actually told that the worst American History teacher needed a few good history students, and I was the best.
My parents were stunned. They told me then they said “but it’s her only good subject.” In NY for an academic diplomea you take Regents–one fifth of the whole grade and if you pass the Regents you pass the course–got a 98 in American History–lowest was an 88 in Geometry. So yeah I’m smart. And not sure about Regents rules now.
Was very sloppy and messy. Am totally disorganized. A file cabinet to me means throwing things in a plastic bag. Have never screwed up, yet though. Tax wise. Need to put all my assets together—they’re in too many places and it’s not good for somebody like me.
Good enough with money to know that buying this apartment for cash instead of taking a large mortgage as I was advised to and putting it in the hot 97 market was a better investment, or a safer one. Ensured that I would always have a semi-luxe roof over my head.
Scared that this problem might intensify with age. Sometimes it feels that it does. And when you’re young and cute the world’s wide open even if you don’t exactly notice.
There’s something missing in me, and I don’t know how to describe it. And it scares me
Thank you for being a good friend. Hope you still are. Get nervous about that.
The working title of my book is Coming Out: No Not That Way
I need to leave NY. People get snarky–had to use a key pad at the bank–no numbers and it started with QR–weird–couldn’t put my PIN in–the woman was rude and it made me angry
–but I didn’t show it because….
Have so much potential. I deserve a good life, I really do.
Just feeling sorry for myself, but maybe I have a right to