My almost, not, perfect blog post

Boston Legal was at its most wonderful tonight. Showing people at their most human. Have a zillion things to say but have five more days and the weather is glorious and I’m feeling better and need to actually be out and about. Like people used to do on vacation. Or I’m told some people don’t work until 4-5 and then go out when away from home everyday. The things I learn in South Carolina.

Tonight’s one of the happiest of the year for me. It’s the return of James Spader in Boston Legal. I forgot to watch the Emmy’s so the Wombat sent me the youtube where he accepted the award. It was almost the same.
OK I have no business even talking about this as I had no idea who was nominated but I think Spader won because he showed that youthful beauty can grow into middle aged merely-mortal talent.
He won because he was never just about looks though he happened to be exceptionally “pretty.” He was always about talent and good acting. He, William Shatner and Candice Bergen show that you can grow older, be talented and quirky. Yes quirkiness lives on in BL

September 25, 2007 — It might be easy to feel disillusioned with the way your life is going but if you allow yourself to dwell on negative feelings you will make matters worse. Any time you choose you can turn your life around, simply by adopting a more positive attitude. Life is what you make of it, so make of it something good

Wow does Sally Brompton get me 🙂 and every other Cancer.
Friday morning I woke up in the nastiest mood. (Insert picture of me looking nasty.) I was going to give up writing forever because looking at revisions was too much for me. (Insert picture of me with print outs crumbled up.)

I managed to be nasty to everybody I spoke to or emailed with. I wanted to go to a concert but decided that though I don’t really observe Yom Kippur and no money would pass hands this would be insulting to my dead parents–one was an agnostic; the other an atheist but both were very Jewish. It’s a cultural thing. (insert picture of dead parents.)

Saturday I waited until late to go to the beach. I spoke to my neighbor Jerry for an hour first. (Insert picture of Jerry in his truck smoking cigarettes and talking on a cell.) Jerry won’t smoke inside because he’s a single father and he won’t get a land line because he has too many cells. As I’m the only known person to have a cell that works in here, my friends and I find it weird that he won’t get a landline. I won’t say what my friends call Jerry but it has something to do with houses on wheels.

When I got to the beach I was so exhausted I could only sit. This is very not me. I was angry at myself. (Insert picture of me looking angry at me.) Saturday night I tried to write. No words would come out. This hasn’t happened in years. Watched Flight 93 instead. Found myself really thinking about the people on the planes for the first time. Thought about how the actors probably didn’t have to delve deeply to do the performances of a lifetime. Cried when an older woman handed her cell to a younger woman and said “here call your people.” (insert image of me crying.)

Sunday I was determined to walk to where the intercoastal meets the Atlantic. I hadn’t brought a chair as I knew I wasn’t going to sit. I did bring a large thermal bag. (insert picture of large thermal bag) By the time I left the IGA–a supermarket about three miles from my part of South North Myrtle I was exhausted.

I still had to walk home. I could have called for a taxi or called Jerry but I believe that long walks are important for health. (Sigh.)

By the time I came home I was freezing, as in I have never been so cold before. (Insert picture of me turning off the AC while dressed perfectly for a robber in Manhattan in mid-winter–big Oakley hoodie and lots of flannels)

I never actually throw up (yuck did I say that in a blog post?) I tried to stay awake all night as I was convinced I was dying of kidney and liver failure. I drank copious amounts of my special green and white ice tea with cinnamon. I could tell it wasn’t kidney failure.

Jerry’s from Salinas and he’s been telling me how horrible the shredded lettuce looks and it should be washed several times with a bit of bleach. i kept forgetting the bleach part, but washed and washed….I fixated on lettuce, the mainstay of my diet. (Insert picture of lettuce prior to washing and picture of lettuce subsequent to washing) Actually I never want to see lettuce or cabbage again. I have learned about the Dell recall. This could have serious ramifications on my life. I might actually be forced to buy a head of lettuce and cabbage.

Yesterday I slept on and off all day. (Insert frowny face). It wasn’t a restful sleep. But I went to sleep at ten PM and slept all night. Actually I had nightmares about finding a place to live. They were very vivid and in the morning I realized that I do like it here.

This is the exact condition I have. Well it would be exact except that my reading comprehension was always judged to better than excellent, and in job evaluations–the only ones that count–my judgement was always considered to be excellent. I can’t spell to save my life but that’s why there are spell checks.

I haven’t talked about it much here because I don’t like to be treated as a collection of symptoms and did feel that way after I talked about Asperger’s. This is a relative of Asperger’s–the social cousin who can make people laugh but can’t keep shoes tied. That’s why god invented Velcro.

I think I called this neurobiological problems in earlier posts as I thought that was easier for people to understand and it is.

I also don’t like to talk about it as I didn’t know I had it most of my life. (Insert frowny face) I had to live up to society without society making any adjustments for me. As an adult it was mostly easy but as a kid, especially ages nine to seventeen it was hell.

I do resent always having to live up to society’s expectations. I have done a damn (oh too dirty for a blog post) job of it. But I anger when people don’t always understand me. I can cause problems as I forget that people don’t “get” me completely–as they get so much of me. (Insert perplexed look.)

My book gives concrete examples of what life was like with non verbal learning disorders. Sometimes it still is and that’s one reason I want to move to a less stressful place though I have many of my friends and my immediate family are in New York. 🙂

In school I could only be angry at people who blamed my problems on my being adopted as I knew they had nothing to do with them. I guess I still think that despite extensive testing etc., if people had looked deeper they might have seen that I wasn’t a lazy person who wasn’t trying. If anything I tried too hard, and am left with the guilt of not being able to be perfect. 🙁

A lot of that did have to do with my father who was so sure I could be perfect. He seemed so perfect and organized on the outside. (Insert picture of father in drag.) OK he had his quirks.

I blew the money I could have spent on a second home on having my teeth completely redone. My teeth were a mess and a lot of the reason was small roots that might be associated with this disorder and with my teeth being tiny–the bottom teeth were on top of each other and hard to floss. Some people actually think that’s blown money and I should have bought real estate. But I would have had to go to the dentist every three months and in between for emergencies. My vanity wouldn’t allow for what my mother’s friend call “that other thing.” (Never insert picture of teeth. Insert picture of me smiling now.)

I’m still not feeling a hundred percent well though I’m on my third load of wash, and I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels to have a washer and dryer next to the bedroom, and that I don’t have to get $60 worth of quarters each month. (Insert picture of washer and dryer that is my dream–tomato red.)

I guess this week is the true test. Can I make it in a place that’s not really home while not feeling completely well? (Perplexed face.)

If you have any questions about nonverbal learning disorders please ask and I will write a post when I get home. One reason I don’t moderate comments is because they can seem overwhelming. I would rather put that time into reading other blogs and commenting on them. I have been told that’s wrong, but I really don’t care. I might begin moderating comments but that would mean only commenting on one or two blogs a day when home. (Not sure what image belongs here.)

Frankly it would be so much easier if it were Asperger’s as that’s so sexy now. I don’t want to focus on this as I don’t want to be treated as a collection of symptoms, and it’s like the sound of one hand clapping. If nobody hears or understands what good is it? (Find image of one hand clapping.)

Computers make my life much easier. I can’t and don’t want to imagine what my life would have been like had computers be around in Windows when I was younger–though I’m a Mac person. That said I don’t know if I would have the excellent reading comprehension I always had as I see myself getting bored much easier by books that aren’t engrossing. (Insert image of computer; insert another image of me trying to read a boring book.)

I taught myself organizational skills as I love organization, cleanliness and beauty. It came at a hard price and isn’t easy in 600 square feet though….(Insert image of my apartment)

Here it’s much easier but did I make the rust spots on a burner? Did I screw up the new and beautiful bed spread by washing it wrong though I read the directions? Cleaning directions are about the only ones I can understand. I’m still trying to learn my cameras. (Insert image of rust on a burner.)

I used to write training manuals. Mine were known to be easy to understand. I had to teach myself to understand how other people learn. (Insert image of people trying to understand one of my training manuals.)

Not knowing if I made the rust spots or not could cause me much guilt though I know in the scheme of life…but the Countess isn’t called the Countess, by me, because she has less than exacting standards. Last time I tried leaving a hundred dollars for things that had already been screwed up. (Insert image of torn up check)

I wouldn’t be writing this but I’m still kinda sick, physically, and it’s coloring my world. (Insert image of colored world.)

I’m still not up to revising nor am I sure that I should go to the beach or talk a long walk though it’s cooler. I guess I should take a long walk. 🙂

Many times people ask me to do simple blog stuff. They don’t understand how overwhelming life can be for me.

Leaving Manhattan is a good step for a less stressful life. I can also buy a townhouse and have money left over from the sale of my apartment. But my support is mostly in New York.

Then again I do meet people easily and if I wait until I’m older I probably won’t be in as good a position. (Insert image of homeless woman.)

Then there is the I am a cultural Jew and have always lived in places where Jews were in the majority or a very accepted part of the culture. People where I have lived understand that being Jewish can have nothing to do with believing in a God. It is part of who I am. (Insert image of secular Jew reading Strunk & White trying to understand where “where” and “were” goes. Insert image of secular Jew at Temple for the High Holidays.)

I can’t write a perfect blog post to save my life. That’s one thing I never feel guilt about. Nobody is dictator in charge of how a personal blogger should blog. (Insert image of Mussolini. More palatable than Hitler, and people might not find that funny coming from a Jew. Or maybe Jew’s are the only people who can. Consult numerous Christian friends.)

I wish that I could take a pure blogging vacation. I think I might take this week off from all blogs. I have to feel guilty because I might have screwed up the new beautiful bedspread. (Insert image of self looking at beautiful bedspread.)

I might put a sample chapter of my book in. I might put it in BC first as many many people read that. I need input on that from the exec committee. Uh Wombat? (Is an image needed? Did put in a link.)

While I will never deny having this disability I refuse to defined by it. I’m not saying that everybody should have to make their way in the world the way I did. God I hope not. People should be understanding; disabilities should be accepted. But I spent 50 years making my way in the real world, and those years shouldn’t be negated.

I only like to dwell on them in my book. Then they’re just stories of my everyday life.

They didn’t make my life less worthy or more worthy. They did give me more stories than anybody should have. (Insert picture of book cover.)