My Biggest Regret

Aspergers syndrome definition

A developmental disorder characterized by social and emotional deficiencies [ah, but that's the key word isn't it] but accompanied by normal or above-average verbal skills and cognitive ability.

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Verbal skills- the extent to which a person can approach words, sentences, written text verbs, as well as the extent to which they can comprehend meanings, produce synonyms, antonyms, know the meaning and use of words...

A second definition of verbal skills:

Written communication 

Oral communication 

Nonverbal and visual communication 

Active listening

Contextual communication 

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Ah, no. I do not possess normal or above-average verbal skills.

I use words well and have an above average vocabulary but my comprehension and communication of words is subpar.

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Cognitive ability definition [because I wasn't sure what this meant]- general mental capability involving reasoning, problem solving, planning, abstract thinking, complex idea comprehension and learning from experience. 

My cognitive ability is poor.

Definitions

Dictionaries 

Used to be, far ago, that I thought if I could read and memorize words that maybe I wouldn't be so confused and understand the chaos around me.

Plus, I love Dictionaries and the clarity they offer.

Parties

Watching another unfortunate show on tv in which people are engaged in a dinner party. I hit the mute button and walk away. This has zero relevance in my life, now and forever.

I will never understand the appeal of people congregating, telling stories and engaging in the sharing of food and drink. Looks like Hell and punishment to me.

I've given up watching my once beloved NFL football. I witnessed a gruesome head injury and I feel scarred. I have no need to be witness to any more pain. My own suffices.

Maybe there is no longer a need for televised entertainment and time passing with loud box on. 

Can't seem to find any value in watching other lives that stymie, perplex and confuse me. Those are neurotypical lives with which I share no commonality. 

I'm not lost. I'm set apart. I'm different. I cannot relate and I have no interesting in trying to conform into something I am not. It is not my nature.

I run free.

To be who I am, I need to be alone, unencumbered and unridiculed.

These people around me, on tv, in the movies. They offer me nothing but confusion and disinterest.

Working with Horses

I'm feeling pretty fortunate that I've found a volunteer opportunity working with 8 horses at a local horse farm.

Each horse has its unique personality, attitudes, and energy. I have only worked with them for about two hours. I've spent that time divided between them so only 10-20 minutes with each one.

There large size means their energy is large as well. I readily gained first impressions and insight into each animal. 

My Boss just brought in two wild horses who are only 100 days removed from the wild. Their energy and personalities stunned and surprised me.

The 3 year old Mare, when I was standing in her stall hooking up her feed bag, has amazing energy. Standing there, I could sense her running wild with delight in a forest. Her energy was bigger than her stall. 

The 1 year old Male, his energy was not as "defined". I felt an immense open plain while I was near him. Clearly, I had the feeling that these were indeed, wild horses. Their spirits are so large and unbounded. I can't help but wonder how they will handle this huge and dramatic transition to becoming tame. I look forward to observing them and helping if I can.

It is most helpful that they have each other and are from the same herd. It will give them needed connection.

Another horse that intrigued me with her energy is Ar. Ar is part wild pony, if memory serves. She has a very headstrongness to her and requires a firm touch. What is odd about her is that whenever I see her or think of her, I want to call her "Alice".

Her history says her previous owner was male, so I'm not picking up the name from there. Maybe her official name has Alice in it. Or maybe that's just how she wants me to address her. 

She's a beautiful, bossy, wonderful horse. I shall call her Alice.

New Emotion, Caution

I felt an emotion that I have never experienced before. Today when I was working at the horse farm, I was in a stall with a mighty big horse. I've only been volunteering there twice before so much of it is still unfamiliar. 

While in the stall, I had to maneuver a big wheelbarrow around the big horse but the floor covering had risen making the floor uneven and difficult to wheel on.

I stopped. Part of me wanted to just push really hard and run the wheelbarrow fast and carelessly over the defect. Part of me felt something and said, "no, wait."

Caution. I felt Caution. I realized this was a potentially dangerous situation that could cause me or my friend Big Horse potential injury.

I stopped. Felt caution along my chest and rethought what I was doing. I needed to make this safer. So, I encouraged the halters horse to move over and I used a different route to get to the other side of the stall. I could not name this unusual feeling, yet.

Upon arriving home from the farm, I jumped in the shower. As I noticed the tub floor was a bit slippery again I took note and stopped. I felt that feeling again and realized it's probably named Caution. I took extra precaution in the shower until I exited. I made sure to scrub clean the tub floor immediately after.

Caution. A word I had heard and logically understood but has never physically felt.

Awesome

More Great Moby Dick Quotes I ❤️

Chapter V

I cherished no malice towards him, though he had been skylarking with me not a little in the matter of my bedfellows.

However, a good laugh is a mighty good thing, and rather too scarce a good thing; the more's the pity.

But that was certainly very coolly done by him, and every one knows that in most people's estimation, to do anything coolly is to fo it genteelly.

And in August, high in air, the beautiful and bountiful horse-chedtnuts, candelabra-wise, proffer the passer-by their tapering upright cones of congregated blossoms.

Methinks we have hugely mistaken this matter of Life and Death.

Methinks that what they call my shadow here on earth is my true substance.

Methinks that in looking at things spiritual, we are too much like oysters observing the sun through the water, and thinking that thick water is the thinnest air.

At the time I now write of, Father Mapple was in the hardy winter of a healthy old age; that sort of old age which seems merging into a second flowering youth, for among all the fissures of his wrinkles, there shone certain mild gleams of a newly developing bloom- the spring verdure peeping forth even beneath February's snow.

the empty nest

Now that my illness is starting to clear and I can think again, I have no idea what to do with my life