Sometimes I'm mean

Sometimes when I read Asperger's blogs I can't help but think that these people are pansy ass whiners.  Yes, you have a disorder or a difference (which is how I prefer to think of this), but fundamentally you are fine.  Sometimes better than fine.  If you have the skills and a computer to start a blog to whine about how hard done by you are that is proof that you are absolutely not hard done by.

So get your head out of your ass, get a job and contribute to the world.  It's nobody's god given right to be happy.  You do not, by virtue of being born, deserve anything at all.  Some people die as soon as they are born, some people are born in horrible war torn countries.  They don't grab a stick and spend their time writing about how sad they are in the sand, they get up and try to survive.  If you are alive then that is what is required of you!

Not really a review

My sister made me buy this book.  She told me it has a main character with asperger's and that she wanted my take on it.  My sister has a special interest in asperger's because her 11 year old son has it.  He has it in the absolute classical sense.  He's a little genius who can't look you in the eye.  He's awkward and formal and everything else that you would discover if you googled asperger's, I love him.  So the fact that I have it too but was not diagnosed until later gives me an insight that she, as his mother needs.  Or it should give me an insight, I try my best.

So I bought the book and powered through it.  It was good.  Absolutely not useful in a "I want to learn about asperger's" kind of way, but a good novel.  This would be the sort of book that I would suggest giving to somebody who is afraid of the label asperger's.  I don't know who that person is since I don't hang around with idiots much, but I'm sure they exist.

The main character didn't have much character.  A person who has ASD might present a bland facade, but I know for a fact that there is a hell of a lot going on under the surface.  This was not reflected at all.  In my experience people with asperger's inwardly struggle with things in a way that was not even hinted at in this book.  Like a swan placidly gliding on the surface of the water but frantically paddling beneath where nobody can see.

I just finished reading the book, so perhaps my opinion will change upon rumination, I'll let you know.

Tuesday, the most unloved day.

I feel bad for Tuesdays, I have a thing for underdogs.  Tuesday is the poor cousin of the rest of the week.  The only reason people do anything at all on a Tuesday is because of the deals.  Every 2 for 1 or discount deal is on a Tuesday just to drum up some kind of business.

Today is Tuesday and it's March 6 which happens to be the 100th anniversary of the grossest cookie out there, the Oreo.  Oreos happen to be vegan.  They have absolutely no nutritional value and they don't even taste good.  I will celebrate the 100th anniversary of the oreo by not eating one.  In fact I'll eat the opposite of an oreo, which I have just this very second decided is:  A grilled cheese sandwich!  Hooray for grilled cheese sandwiches, natures perfect food and an excellent delivery system for ketchup.....or catsup.

Good but not great

My doctor's appointment was on Wednesday.  I went with some expectations, silly me.  My problem is I'm too good.  I'm too good at being easy, breezy, funny and fine.  And my outrageous physical healthiness just adds to my facade of being fine.  Which physically I am.  I told her at my initial appointment that I am unbelievably healthy and that I'm aware of that fact and obviously thankful for it, BUT that I am interested in getting my head on straight, because it is defiantly askew. 

While I was sitting in the tiny examination room with the doctor and she was going over my glowing test results with me I floated outside of my body and watched the scene unfold.  I could see myself looking casual and relaxed, asking questions and engaging in an apropriate manner and I could see her trying to get this appointment done and over with.  I asked about anxiety medication and she gave me something that most people take for high blood pressure.  I don't have high blood pressure.  She offered me anti depressants, I am not depressed.  But, trust me, I'm getting there.

I wonder what I have to do to get taken seriously?  Should I just let go and freak out and cry and act like the maniac that sometimes bubbles below the surface?  What I truly feel in a situation like that is not to freak out but rather to shut down completely.  I just want to go to sleep.  Next time I'm going in drunk, it's much easier for me to talk honestly that way.

On a more exciting note, it's the 108th birthday of Doctor Seuss.  I love his books!