we could undo our violent ways; we are humans, after all, capable of choice and change

Again I say, do you remember back in the 80's and 90's when parents were concerned about how much violence was on the television? Parents, well, some parents limited their children's entertainment programs and monitored what they watched.

Now, not so much.

No one is speaking against the violence or, if they are, it isn't very loud.

Could we ever revert back to a time wherein violence was unacceptable? Could we ever agree to change what we stream, view, and listen to?

Could we ever become a society that frowned upon violence in all its forms?

Could we stop beating our kids because we were beaten and grew up passing that on because we had been hurt and survived and our parents were never wrong?

Could we just stop, look about us and see what is working and what is not?

Can an individual turn off a favorite violence strewn movie or show?

Could an individual decide that the gory, violent video game serves no purpose but to pass time and maybe, just maybe desensitize?

Could we look with simple kindness and respect at everyone we meet?

Could we become...different...aware...peaceful beings?

Sure, if we wanted to. The whole of society could, if one person at a time felt the current trajectory was off kilter, off course, and too painful to adhere to.

I don't know. I look around. I see people hurting other people and I wonder if that is inevitable. 

I remember the 80's when people were concerned the violence might make their kids violent or more tolerant and accepting of violence...those were the days.

I wish we could go back there.

The Remnants of Hurricane Hilary

The outside is awash with the stray winds from Hurricane Hilary in the Willamette Valley. 

The gusts of wind are small, erratic and laced with coolness, a depth of water vapor mixed with turbulence. 

The minor breezes flow together, then apart and split off in different directions as an atom, separating, distinct and robust.

The size of the varying winds, I feel in my skin. The different temperatures, the directions they flow in, as if I am a large mast of a tall ship and my sail stutters and knows not within which direction to actually go.

I smile. I'm amused in this winds. It was not a deadly storm as it's wake is lighthearted. A series of winds, a weather condition that actually makes me smile with amusement and mirth.

Or maybe its that I'm just so pleased the air quality has returned to it's not putrid state that it has been lingering in yet again, forcing me to stay in among shut.

The leaves are dancing not choking. Even the sunshine is enjoying the show. The leaves cast shadows upon my living room walls. Shadows that appear to flow like a midflowing stream, clean, crisp and quick.

What a sudden dramatic turn!!

Questions No One Can Answer or Help Me With

 As I stare out the locked, sealed window at the sun trying to set in the apocalyptic sky where the leaves hang listless and suffocating amidst the heavy yellow choking haze of smokesmog, I have fallen out of my weeklong emotional slow burn of a meltdown enough to get back to the starting line, my daily angst and saga of questions unanswerable (otherwise known as, what most people automatically know but Aspie Amy is clueless).

I do not know how I should be spending the hours of my days. How much time should I devote for maintenance and chores? How many hours should I spend engaged in reading books and magazines? How long should I watch a television movie or show? Walking is out of the question for today which leaves me one less query since one must be able to breath the air in order to walk. Should I play a video game? Online scroll? Write? Cook? Work on Project A or Project B or Project C? I don't know how or what should be prioritized. I don't know what to do. And no one can help with that.

I bought fruit to dehydrate yesterday. I'm not sure how often I should be buying fruit due to my budget. It's kindof like coffee in that I'll go buy some if I have the cash on hand but that doesn't really work well especially when I only get my disability check once a month. It's as if I live "high on the hog", an opulent lifestyle with red meat, fruit, coffee and dessert those first couple of monthly weeks and then things take a dastardly, poverty ridden turn. How much should I be budgeting for each week? 

It is a conundrum for which I have no solution.

Odd thought of the day (of course there are usually many but I shall limit myself to just a one): 

Do you remember when we were worried, back in the 80's and 90's about how much violence children were exposed to from television and movies? Parents, well, select parents seemed to care and try and limit children's exposure. Yeah, it turns out watching violence really has no effect and does not cause violence to be more tolerated and increase in society. Sarcasm. Yeah, no one cares about that anymore. And, we as a society, well we just grow more and more violent unchecked and unconcerned.

Happy thought of the day because I refuse to end this post on that sour note: I've been having fun creating holiday cards for the craft show in December.

Acknowledge your accomplishments

Little take huge amounts of effort when you are Aspie. It's so easy to overlook or disregard our work, the planning, the tremendous effort and will it oft takes to accomplish tasks that seem trivial by neurotypical standards.

I have to consciously tell myself when I've done a good job. It isn't as if there is anyone outside of my being that would be able to notice and remark upon my missions accomplished.

I did a couple of small mountain tasks. I went to the local Farmers Market. The downtown corridor where it is held, was the most densely packed crowd I have ever encountered there. No worries, methought as the produce stand that usually carries my broccoli is near the entry.

Well, usually it has it. Not today. Yes, the thought of chalking it up as a loss and going home empty-handed crossed my mind but there was another two blocks full of vendors. If I carefully staggered my way through the crowds, I was optimistic that I could acquire my produce. That was the move I decided to make.

Sure enough, all the way at the end of the street market, I found the only vendor who had broccoli. I grabbed a couple stalks, paid and high-tailed it back to the car. As I sat in the car, I took a couple of deep calming breaths and said quietly aloud, You Did a Good Job. I'm proud of you, a few times so it would sink in.

It felt good to get that chore done and done to the best of my ability.

Well, I guess I did three noteworthy missions. After the Market, I went straight to the mountain and proceeded to walk hike, not the 1.55 miles I did yesterday, but rather 2.4 miles. It was indeed crowded there, as well, with a large number of hikers with dogs, bicyclists and even a couple of horses. Again, once the chore was complete, I told myself I did good.

My third challenge was going to the local food pantry. I've picked up food there about 4 or 5 times now, and it gets easier and more familiar with each visit.  I'm learning what food items work for me, which ones to avoid, and which ones that it is appropriate to ask for.

It was wonderful and tummy warming to arrive home with two grocery bags of vittles. 

It was a highly productive day. Some days I accomplish one, two or three things. Other days I'm just glad I can get out of bed, walk the dog and feed myself.

Victories come in large, medium, and small.

The Sound Indoors

 Today ended the 72 siege of being forced to stay indoors due to the obnoxious, toxic outdoor smokesmog air. I like breathing and that wasn't going so well if I ventured outside for even a few minutes.

The sounds of indoors with air conditioner, shuttered windows had a sharp hum, a drone and blow. It felt or rather sounded isolated, muffled, muted, and confining. The blowing air conditioner coupled with the solidly locked windows was a barrier like a heavy wall of insulation against the outer world. 

I missed the noises of outside: the leaves rustling telling me there was wind; cars driving by indicating what time of day it was; the train rattling day and night giving me pause and a reason to stop and listen; the birds, the sad absence of any bird calls was obvious and forlorn.

Casually, I wondered how many days it would be before anyone noticed my car hadn't moved or my shades no loner opened and closed each day. 

As soon as the temperature dips below 70, I will actually be able to open the long shut windows. I'm sure it will feel foreign, if ever so briedly.

And trust, hmm, I have to go back to not trust the air to be pleasant and breathable. I have to check places online and take testing sniffs and whiffs when I step out. I'm leery. I forgot, you can't always trust the air quality. Damn, this seems to be a reoccurring theme playing in different avenues of my life. Trust, safe, choice all are taking turns center stage and needing my attention. That's what therapy is for, too. See the pattern. Talk about it. Move on. This train of thought station is a bugger to get out of. 

I like being sequestered when it is my idea not external, uncontrollable forces outside of myself.

I was kinda content, just short of happy, that I had a reason to stay in.

Outside is risky and unpredictable and some days I wear my armor better and stronger than others.

Choice. It is nice being able to decide whether I go out or stay in.

Oregon fire season, I don't think I'll ever like it or get used to it.

So much taking place in my internal world. 

Rainman Rainman

I am definitely in the throes of Rainman days.

So grateful for this movie.

I'm so f*ckin weirdy!!!

Nope, just Aspie as hella

Observations from the Puddle, the Saga of the Most Alone Multiple Autistic continues to no fanfare or likes

 Observations from the Puddle called August 17, 2023

It's Wet

The journey continues. The outside unbreathable, smoke and smog filled air assisted in keeping me indoors the past two moons, however, I needed to force venture Out to get some food. I've noticed, over the years, that if I don't grab my anxiety by the collar and drag it out in the open and shake the Hell out of it, "air it", acknowledge it, what have you, then it grows like a decaying roadkill carcass until it explodes and becomes completely unmanageable and hella messy. Thus, I clutched my anxiety, put it on a strong leash and hauled it and myself, kicking and screaming to not one but two public stores.

If it looks like Rainman

and it doesn't talk like Rainman

Is she really Rainman? 

Kindof, yeah. I walk funny these days, all stiff and non-swinging arms and upright and like ready to run or fight. My watery tears, crying situation, wherein I start crying sogging, opulent tears, continue to happen without warning and multiple times within each day. Today, I noticed whenever anyone was near me in the aisle or speaking to me, like the cashiers and clerks as are required, then I would be fighting to hold back them tears. Not fun, but whatev.

I heaved myself out because I fear this current shaky, fragile, nervous state I currently wear may very well be my near-normal and I must get used to it instead of "waiting for it to abate". It's been a couple of weeks and it hasn't abated yet. The eggshellic condition has improved a bit in that the tears seem slightly less in volume and occurrence. In a weirdy sense, I have a bit more control over the uncontrollable watery falls.

I've realized that I need to write out, figure out the "baseline" for our food needs. Like, what do I absolutely have to have, bare minimum, to sustain myself each day, week, and month.

My volumous public post for help was met by assistance from five kind souls. Therefore, the paying of of the debt card will continue for the forseable future and my disability check needs to be further stretched to success. 

I have short term and long term additional finance ideas. Whether they work or not largely depends on how much ass I can kick out of this lingering, heavy, couch-worthy, depression and malaise. It's a lot of work to be me.

And, yeah, I get it, if I dropped off the face of the earth tomorrow, two people would notice. I get it that I am alone with my own resources and no one to assist. I get it, there are no friends nearby or to talk to and ask questions or advice from. I am well aware of my little cage I call home. And it is the exact place that I have found myself in through most of my life. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that this is where I am supposed to be.

This Is Where I Am Supposed To Be

because I keep ending up here. Because my current aloneness seems to be the most consistent, stable thing in my life. The pattern repeats For A Reason.

Do I like it? F*ck no.

Do I recognize it after time and time and time and time...ad nauseum?

Yep

So, the Observations from the Puddle, I lovingly (blech) call home is that It Is Indeed Wet but it is Indeed My Home.

peace out bitches