Aspergers and the Alien by Amy Murphy is available in ebook, paperback and hardcover on Amazon

All three versions of my book are now available on Amazon!!

Aspergers & the Alien ebook

Aspergers & the Alien, book published on Amazon Kindle

I'm so excited!!!

Years of work writing, compiling, and editing...

The ebook is now available. The softcover will be available in a day or two.

Lovely!!

The Violent Wind, a most windy day

Today was one of those days when the wind was so loud and unrelenting in its road, that we couldn't go outside. We closed all the windows too, because it was upsetting, erratic, and closed windows seemed to drown out the pestilence of noise and block the sight of leaves trapped and forced to constantly flap and frown.

It's been many moons since I was so harshly affected by a windy day.

The few short forays out to allow the dog a walk were met with cascades of clamoring leaves and gusts of assault upon my person. My hat needed to be held, as well, and securely.

I'm grateful that I was not required to be out of doors. It was much too unpleasant for me to bear.

The Last of the Mohicans movie is So Not the Book

I read the book and loved it! Fenimore Coop can tell a compelling, intriguing story.

The movie was such a huge disappoint, not acted out at all in the spirit of the book. Its a travesty, a bastardization and has little commonalities with the wonderful book.

Its a shame.

The movie should have been called something else because in its own right, it is a great movie, just not based on a classic story.

I clearly see my Aspergers when I'm around others, like they hold the mirror for me

I stopped by the local food pantry today. I was different from the others picking up food and different from the workers. I could tell by the way the volunteer looked and talked to me that I was different.

The other clients were talking more and there was a constant exchange between volunteer and client like a hot potato game for two. I could sense how their words volleys and played off one another.

When my volunteer looked at me or spoke, I dropped the potato, I dropped the ball. Deadpan. Silence. I couldn't figure out how to make my words dance and interact with hers.

Like taking wads of toilet paper and throwing it onto the ceiling for no one's amusement but my own.

I play tennis. My opponent is a wall 

I write and text and in my own domicile all seems fair and well but, when I step out my front door, all bets are off. I'm on my own. Playing solitaire while everyone else plays games and trade cards.

I feel completely normal, till I go out my front door.

Around others I can see my frayed edges, purple hair, dirty feet and collegiate, nonfitting lingo.

I've been home much much. Feels best to just stay in, immersed in my Autistic blankets of normalacy.

She sat in the dark