Favorite Moby Dick quotes

...I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote.

I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.

...there floated into my innermost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, midmost of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.

It was a very dubious-looking, nay, a very dark and dismal night, bitingly cold and cheerless.

Abominable are the tumblers into which he pours his poison. (Of the bar keep at the Spouter)

Though true cylinders without-within, the villainous green giggling glasses deceitful tapered downwards to a cheating bottom.

Sartainty

Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian.

But Queequeg, do you see, was a creature in the transition state-neither caterpillar nor butterfly. He was just enough civilized to show off his outlandishness in the strangest possible manner.

SLOW the worst traffic sign ever

I adore traffic signs, for the grand majority of time, as I do get a certain thrill and sense of safety in knowing road conditions and what the local street rules are. Unfortunately, I have come across a sign that causes me nothing but consternation, confusion and grief.

SLOW

I am greatly confused when I see this sign. I have many questions without answers, such as:

At what speed should I then proceed? Five miles slower, ten, twenty, should I get out and crawl?

What hazard or condition has necessitated this sign? Are there potholes, stray farm animals, slow-moving trucks, hidden driveways, etc., etc., etc.? The possibilities are truly endless.

What is the repercussion of me not going at some undetermined lesser speed? Will I fall off the road? Is my car in danger of damage? 

I feel nothing but overwhelming confusion, so much so that I have an insatiable urge to stop the car, get out and approach the sign, standing directly in front of it in the hopes that its meaning may become clear to me if I am close enough to study it. Maybe proximity would allow me to understand the sign and the why of why it exists and was specifically placed in its exact spot.

I mean, there must be a reason, right?

But the reason I know not.

Confusion is uncomfortable like picking at a loose thread of your favorite jacket and pulling and pulling and only making it worse in hopes of finding an answer.

It is like standing at the dock, in a storm and waiting for the storm to pass or your ship to arrive, but you don't know which.

Confusion is painful. I wish it would stop. I wish the Neurotypical world could make sense to me or at least put more thought into its actions and sign placement.

I will obey traffic signs that I can understand. I mean, isn't that the whole purpose behind them is to allow driver's to drive with less confusion and uncertainty? 

I think my only recourse will be to stop and take photos or make notes of these ridiculous signs and write the local road commissions for explanations. I think that would be the only way out of this quandary. Maybe with the answer to one or two signs, I could gain some insight as to what they mean in general and when I run across them at different locations.

I really dislike the feeling of confusion.

 

Some days I can't leave the house

I don't think that it is agoraphobia per se, as this is more of a PTSD or meltdown kind of thing. It's situational. If I hadn't been overwhelmed and inundated with sudden, unexpected and stressful experiences back to back, I wouldn't feel this deep fear of going out my front door.

Luckily, my son walked the dog moat of the day. Tonight, I did have to take puppy out and it felt dreadful. I was on edge, hypervigilant and terribly uncomfortable those four minutes that we were out.

I can't recall the last time I felt so bad.

I'm not sure when this high anxiety, high tear time will end. 

Going to bed early. Maybe tomorrow will be better.   

Another Meltdown Day

Did I mention that I hate having meltdowns in front of my kid?

The day started off with me having the solitary chore of getting the blankets washed. The dog had made a mess and it needed to be done tootsweet. 

I drove to the laundromat that I had recently discovered and utilized three times before. Familiarity is a friend of mine.

As soon as I entered, things got wonky, out of sorts. A woman was emptying the coin machine and greeted me. I thought, okay, just a friendly employee making sure I'm not there to steal the coins. 

Ah, but no.

She looked at my blankets and told me that I could not use the washers I was familiar with. Instead I had to use the ones with a long list of operating instructions that were beyond my comprehension.

I stated that I didn't know how to operate those machines. Also mentioned that I'm Autistic and couldn't figure them out.

She said she was there and could help me. She immediately proceeded to explain things to me much too fast. I was lost and unable to follow her at all.

I could feel the tears of confusion welling up. She was continuing her snide rant. I said I needed to go home.

She reiterated in her holier than though, why can't you understand me voice, "I'm Right here!"

I felt like such an idiot. I was unable to ask her to slow down or to repeat. My head was all a jumble and I just needed to escape her before I started crying.

I busted out the door and ran to the car. Wearing a mask allows me to curse and mutter and berate myself and curse at that bitch and fuck being Autistic and my inability to do simple things without great pain.

I was so hurt.

I was just so hurt and mad at myself for failing a simple task.

What a weenie. What an ass. What a fucking retard I am.

I had to complete my chore. So I tried a new laundromat which was pretty risky given my minor melting. But I did it. Interacted with the attendant who was actually really kind. These new machines were simple, like me.

I remembered my Xanax in the car. Took one because I was destabilized. It helped just enough for me to get my goddam laundry done and get home.

Off and on for hours, I'd just break out sobbing meltdown style.

My kid came home from school and asked me about my day. I fucking hate crying in front of my kid like that although he is always sympathetic and understanding.

My days are now relegated by my emotions. The meltdown will pass with meds, time and staying home.

After returning home with the laundry, to add insult to my injury, someones dog got loose and ran to my little dog and me scaring the bejeezus out of me. I didn't expect it. Didn't know if the dog would attack. I scooped up my 12 pound Rosebud and practically ran home, muttering and sputtering, vowing to not leave the house unless absolutely necessary. 

The outside world was too much. Too much unpredictability. Too much hurt. Enough. I was overwhelmed. 

Some days seriously suck.

Today was one of them.

Some days I hate being Autistic.

Winning and Losing

I Wake Up Strange

 I wake up strange. Some mornings, I awake and in those groggy, twilightish moments before I am fully awake, I inadvertently tap into the Universal Consciousness. At those times I may here Christmas carols if it is near that holiday. Around Easter, I rouse to  the familiar Easter Catholic church hymns. When there has been a catastrophic weather event whether it be earthquake, tsunami, damaging tornados or floods, I will feel overwhelming dread and the need to check the news. Lately, with the Russian war, I have awaken to rebel chants, gunfire, feeling the need to run and flee, and a deep sense of danger.

Today, fortunately, it was on a happier note. As my eyelids struggled to open, my ears were delighted by the gentle drops of much anticipated rain. I pictured myself in the deep, mossy, richly green, vibrant and wet forest. I Need To Go and Get Close to Trees. Yes, get close to trees is an intense feeling, more of a need, that I must attend to and honor. It isn't a whim or a passing notion. This is something that my mind, my body, heart and soul doth require. Thus, I shall dress accordingly, fulfill my appointment obligation, and head off to my favorite deep, dark, lush woods!

Going to Someone's House, Seeking a Friend

 Having no family or friends nearby, the simple act of going to someone else's home to chat or be entertained is highly anomalous. I think that in the five years that I have lived in this new home city, that I may have been inside the homes of maybe 5 or 6 acquaintances. Being a recluse and free from overwhelm and distress is my main goal in life. Attempting to make a friend is a secondary and worthwhile goal that I engage in sporadically when I am feeling strong, for lack of a better word. In that vein I have enlisted the aid of a social media site mainly geared towards dating and singles but I worded my intentions in my profile to state that i am seeking friends first.

I feel quite fortunate to have stumbled onto a most unique woman who was looing for the same, a companion and friend more than a sexual tryst. Lisa is the first person I have met and been able to easily get along with. We are of the same height, body build and we speak in the same tone. It is as if I have found one of those humans, those rare humans, that exists on the same vibrational frequency as me. If I were to readily recall the number of other humans with which I have felt and experienced this, I think that number would be three.

I'm not overly nervous or anxious around her. I do not fear for my safety which is especially positive. We started out by going on adventures together, traveling companions which I desperately sought. Our interests and backgrounds are freakishly similar as well. By our third get together, she invited me over to her house to do a project together. This was just last week, so quite a recent event. I was sitting in the living room of her house for no more than twenty minutes before I felt the familiar pangs of a foreboding panic attack. I have developed a number of coping methods to potentially utilize whenever such an occurrence may appear. Politely, I excused myself under the false pretense of "getting a necessary item" from my vehicle. Once there, I flipped open the glove compartment box and secured one of my anti-anxiety medications that I placed there. A swallow and a sip later, I knew that I was only twenty minutes away from feeling some relief.

I had to continually give myself positive, encouraging messages. Telling myself that i was perfectly safe, that I could leave whenever I wanted and that I would feel less nervous shortly. In the interim I made careful inspection of the room I was in distractably noting where each plant and bauble was placed. I marveled at my acquaintances ability to organize and keep such a tidy house. Mine own home is a creative nest filled with an array of projects, art supplies and erratic stacks of books and toy horses. The home itself felt, dare I say cozy and unpretentious with a spacious, open living area and dining room resplendent with an array of sunshine gathering windows. 

I was able to hang out at my friends for more than an hour. To be honest, I failed to notice when my anxiety shut off completely. It was a natural, medication induced progression without hallmark.

I am grateful that I have such medication. And I am extremely proud of myself for riding out the anxiety storm that abruptly appeared like that. I never know if or when anxiety and panic will ensue. I am optimistic that the next time I get invited over, that I will be more acclimated to the environment and maybe I will not require medication intervention. The meds are always there though if necessary.

One more new thing successfully completed. My attempts at gaining a friend continue.