Micropoetry

Shhhhhh

Do not touch my stuff

I can go from normal to rainman, in the blink of an eye, especially when a stranger touches a personal item.
Feeling highly autistic these days. Had a bad experience at the checkout today. The clerk was "helping me" by taking my license out of my wallet, that lay on the counter, as I wrote a check.
I quickly flipped out. Asked her, "I'm autistic, please don't do that." She immediately backed off, but the damage was done. I think I need to go get a new wallet.
I figured out that I need a separate hard plastic case, like they use for trading cards, and put my license in that. This way, I can hand over my license and change the plastic sleeve, as I see fit.
  Argh, I feel so violated.

Asking Questions

I probably have over a thousand questions, that I will never find answers to, because I cannot format and articulate the question in a way that will procure an answer.
  At times, I feel it is the saddest, most frustrating part about having Aspergers. I have so many questions...if I could just find the right words and correct sentence structure And a person that I could trust not to laugh and make fun of me.
It makes me incredibly sad really, that something so simple for most, is near impossible for me. I can't tell you how many hours I've spent searching on the internet with useless terms and best guesses before I figured out what I was actually seeking.
I've seen the responses, all my life, where I'd ask a simple, naive question and the recipient just laughed, rolled her eyes or thought I was joking. And it's like, I have to pretend that I'm okay with that...not asking questions, not completely understanding the people, customs and routines around me.
I guess I'd rather be thought of as aloof and keep my mouth shut, than a stupid idiot and ask juvenile questions.
It's like, everyone has this book with answers, but me...and I can't figure out how to convince someone to look up the answers for me.
I cannot convey the largess of this conundrum...but this is a start.

Insomnia

Loneliness

And there are too many people, to make sense of the depth and breadth of loneliness...
When another is within outstretched hand reach.
If only the cry of our hearts became audible sweet whispers.
Logic eludes, fails to feel
One head upon soft pillow
Cries silently
As a thousand other heads do the same
We cry for arms that
Never held us
Or that never will again.
It seems that we are locked in to the ideas of our own minds.
We are orphans,
Self-made heroes of unsung tales and stories.
We break the molds and suffer ourselves to grow.
I walk alone, but it not be in vain.
If I am true to me, I have not failed.
Those who say we must live for others are but poor fools.
I am loved, even when I am alone.
The walk of the solo sojourner is only for the brave.
No longer will I knock on doors that will not open.
I will know my beauty without ever seeing a mirror.
I will value myself even when penniless.
My footsteps, my path, my journey is my own.
No one can take that from me.
Rest assured

Still nervous, waiting, writing

So that is really an odd ceiling with hidden lights and a quasi dome shape. Perplexing and out of place.
There is a sign, pointing to the downstairs, that said "vending". I'm guessing this means vending machines, but I could be wrong. In need of a stiff drink, diet pepsi, I ventured through door #1, down a flight of stairs, opened door #2 hoping to find a pop machine...but no, there was a hallway and two different doors to choose from.
Hey, it will be hard enough making my way back up the stairs and figuring out the turns. I knew two more uncertain doorways was way too much. I quickly called off my foray to soda and high tailed it back to the waiting room before I got lost.
The bathroom...yikes! Very loud, stinky soap and weirdy paper dispenser. Yeah, I need to go wash that stench of my hands... ick, the water smells like sewer. I'm not winning here.
The place is getting busier. There are more like 5 offices on this floor, as new employees came in and opened doors. Gotta hate those high heels on that tile floor!
I'll be called in shortly. Trying not to flap. Feeling highly autistic!!!!

Where do I sit? Being at a new office building, waiting room

Circumstances are such that, at this moment, I am in a brand new office building, waiting room. It is high anxiety.
I registered with the receptionist who wore a puzzled look on her face that didn't make me feel any more comfortable.
Then I proceeded to "stakeout" the place. I paced, walked the perimeter reading signage, bulletins, noting where the exits were and the direction to my vehicle.
I abhor getting lost or feeling trapped in buildings. I am feeling panic and I may bolt to the front door for fresh air.
It took three or four times, walking around the waiting room, to figure out where to sit. I ended up near the front entrance with a direct line of sight to the office door. This way no one can sneak up on me. I can monitor who comes in or out. I feel safer seeing my vehicle and the door to outside.
  I feel like I'm on point, on surveillance, okay...hypervigilant. I'm quite nervous as there is so much uncertainty in a new building.
I've brought calming, grounding tools: my ever present bottle of water to hold, my phone for writing this and picture taking if I get more nervous, my meds which I shan't take as I'm tired and have a distance to drive back.
Yikes, such perilous uncertainty. People coming and going. All the smells are completely different, as well as the sights.
I have this habit of checking the shrubbery to see if it is real or fake. I feel better with real. There is a forest of plastic trees in here....fake, fake..yikes.
Thankfully the television in this waiting room is off. I can't tolerate any more sensory overload. I'm already quite overloaded and could start flapping my hands at any minute.
There are three offices serving this waiting area. Sometimes receptionists talk, chatter, answer phones. Glass windows slid open and grind shut.
The front door is fairly loud with frequent comings and goings. The floor squeaks heavy where the tile is and shifts to muffled shuffles on the carpeted area.
There is a clock. Unusual. Most waiting rooms no longer employ clocks...wouldn't want people to know how long they must wait.
Noises come from different directions, stairs, hallways, and about a half dozen doors.
If you ever get nervous in a new place, write if you can, take pictures of your surroundings if allowed, stay in sight of one or more exits.
We are Aspie....this is our norm.

I stand alone

Today's Haiku

The Giver movie review

Today turned into a truly crazy day. One highlight, that seemed to ground me was when my therapist asked me what I thought of the movie, I recently watched, The Giver.
I really enjoyed this movie, which is something that rarely happens. In helping myself find a little interesting subject matter, I figured I'd write my thoughts regarding the movie.
In a nutshell, The Giver is a surreal, futuristic film, kind of a cross between Pleasantville and 1984. It's set in a society that has been modified to eliminate the majority of emotion and any speck of uniqueness, passion and creativity. All behaviors are monitored according to rigid rules.
Yes, everyone is, well, pleasant with a certain degree of blasé, and no one questions the rules. The environment is sterile and drab.
Spoiler Alert
Except... there is the main character, Jonas, who frequently gets glimpses of another dimension, visions that he has no words for and no one else experiences.
I readily related to Jonas as he could perceive things the rest of society could not.
There is only one other person, in this quasi-Utopian world, that understands what Jonas is going through, The Giver.
Jonas and Giver start meeting so that the Giver can pass along the wisdom of past memories, before the mental sterilization of the rest of the population.
The movie really picks up when the two get together and the "giving" of information takes place . To see Jonas start experiencing...sensations and feelings, made my heart sing. Lol, right away he can't contain himself and breaks the "law" of not sharing this new ingirmation.
He got a taste of..freedom and immediately wanted to share it. And no one else could.
Two individuals that connected on such an...intimate level. Being understood. The sharing and trust between them. Two against the world.
The frustration of not being able to express feelings, thoughts and ideas...and sincerely wanting everyone else to share in this newfound, warm wisdom.
  Being autistic, I feel that the majority of humans live a similar, ho hum, dull existence that revolves around surpressing feelings and trivial, mundane days. People don't question..they just follow, repeating the patterns the same as their parents did. There is no questioning, no searching for deeper meaning and exploring oneself and the unseen universe.
A stunted society, is my view. If I'm fortunate, I find one or two others that share my footsteps, the path that meanders far away from the routine.
                          *
  There were a couple of scenes, scenarios that almost bothered me. Let's just say that you can train a human to do amoral, highly cruel acts as long as the human is taught that it is acceptable and approved. I understood and could watch these scenes unfold as they laid great context to the overall story of how far you can turn a human into a non-thinking, non-questioning autobot.
  I found myself riveted and curious as to how the movie would play out and eventually end.
It is definitely thought provoking and full of wisdom. I can relate.

Hummingbird Haiku

For the Small Boy that Drowned

Self-Worth

To Bee

Haiku, a brief description

Haiku (俳句 high-koo) are short poems that use sensory language to capture a feeling or image. They are often inspired by an element of nature, a moment of beauty, or another poignant experience. Haiku poetry was originally developed by Japanese poets, and the form was adopted (and adapted) by virtually every modern language, including our own.

Ingesting Raw Art

Flame