Today I logged into Facebook. Or is it Fightback?

Gosh. I was only there to see cat pics.

The routine arguments were still in play: I don’t eat meat so why do you, I send my kid to school so why does yours learn at home, I can have a gun and you can’t make me get rid of it, and everything bad is Obama’s fault, no it isn’t, yes it is, no it isn’t, yes it is.

In that scenario, confrontations between “friends” seem to have escalated this week due to current events. Motivated by the latest issues, good people who usually post pizza recipes or the price of a new muffler were battling other good people over opposing views on flags and court rulings in addition to the usual topics. Some attacked the issue and others attacked the person. No one safe. Every view declared wrong. Perspective.


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I’m Not Sick: A rant about neurotypical privilege.

You’ve hit the nail right on the head! I am sick of being underrated and underestimated, too.

Feminist Aspie

Blogger’s Note, written 28/6/2015: Wow. This post is getting a LOT of traffic. It seems to be fairly high up on Google searches for “neurotypical privilege”, and last night it was posted on various social media sites by the wonderful Autistic Self Advocacy Network and my stats have exploded and it’s scary and wonderful. Thank you so much! I wrote this almost two and a half years ago, when I’d only been blogging for a couple of months, so apologies if the wording isn’t perfect. I absolutely stand by everything I’ve written here, but that might not necessarily apply to all my other really old posts that may appear near this one; I’ve learned so much since I started this blog, and I’m so grateful to those of you who have helped me on that journey. If you’re new, which you probably are, you might be interested in checking out my…

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Too Many Strikes: Have I Missed My Chance?

Too short, too fat, too autistic, too brunette…do I have to add too old to my list of strikes against me? There is such a standard of perfection expected among women that it’s like a list of traits about me is a list of things women pretend in order to ward off creeps at the bar. And as they say in baseball and Hollywood, too many strikes and you’re out. Or are you?

Let me list my strikes against me, for example:

Too short (under 5′ 8″ tall): strike

Too fat (larger than size 0): strike

Too autistic (autistic AT ALL): strike

Too old (over 30): strike

Okay, this is depressing me. I can’t sit around and list all the things going against me – I’m not gunning for Donald Trump or the like. I’m not wanting a shallow, unfeeling user of a man who uses a woman up and then throws her out when she turns 40. (Maybe that’s why I’m still single. I have high standards.) That’s not what I’m all about. Besides, my mother was married at 50. That’s one strike down, for starters. She is slightly larger than me in physical size, so that’s another. Then, there’s the height issue too. She’s short as well…another strike down. Finally, people with autism get married, when they are allowed to. So, any real strikes? Not exactly. Hollywood creates such an illusion that you have to be perfect to get anything at all as a woman that it leaves about 100% of existing women miserable because they do not measure up. Yes, I said 100% of women. I have yet to see a picture that is not photoshopped within an inch of its life in a magazine…counting since the 1980s. How are we supposed to live up to this standard, and expect to catch a man who is good enough not to beat us? Maybe that’s the catch. Honestly, I have grown to hate Hollywood for this very reason. Yes, it’s supposed to be a fantasy, but even the ugly have fantasies of being loved and accepted. Are regular people not allowed to have fantasies? Sorry, but I have fantasies of love and acceptance whether you like it or not. I am going to indulge those fantasies, even if I have to do it alone for the rest of my life, because I now love and accept myself. So now, I can look at 38 and embrace it with the gusto of the next part of my life.

Special Interest: New Kids on the Block

When the New Kids on the Block first came on the scene in 1988-1989, I was a little hesitant to like them. I tend to have a hesitation to liking new things. Maybe it’s the whole change thing which bothers me: who knows? Most of it was in talk within my Girl Scout troop. Once I learned what everyone was talking about, I was right on board. I mean, Jordan and Jonathan Knight were so hot! (We said “cute” back then.) Anyway, I was a fan until about the time Donnie got arrested for spraying some friend with a fire hydrant (Whaaaaa?) and went underground for decades, until they reemerged. Unfortunately, I have never been to one of their concerts (money being the barrier), but I still loved them.

I got teased and bullied mercilessly throughout my seventh grade year. NKOTB was one of the reasons. I guess everybody liked how I would get mad. Of course, I got told to “Ignore it” by the teachers. I got bullied at school, bullied at church, and bullied on the street. Sadly, I did not find a solution to this bullying until I was out of high school, which was to move away emotionally as far as possible, and eventually physically half across the country. As I recalled in “Facebook and the Mellaril Nightmare,” I was suspicious of people even being my Facebook friend, especially if they were from my school days. I accepted their Facebook friendship anyway, because that was the Christian thing to do. At least one has offered an apology (which I accepted), so that has turned around for me. I digress, though…

Being an NKOTB fan has its advantages. You get to fit in somewhere, which is a big thing for me, since I have never fit in anywhere. You get great music, now that they’re at the helm of things, and, for me, anyway, all that bullying was worth it.

I do have a confession to make: I tortured my sister with New Kids on the Block bedroom decorations and dolls. We shared a bedroom our whole childhood. Because of my autism, I guess I got dibs on plastering my special interests all over the bedroom. If I offended her, I am very sorry to do it. Hopefully, she seemed to like it at the time.

Hopefully, I have not bored you with one of my special interests.

We Are Not Your Burden, We Are People

Challenging one’s beliefs is a fundamental part of learning. Mind if I reblog this?

The Observers Outpost

There is a spot on Magazine where children and their caretakers from a special needs school get on the bus. It’s usually 6 or 7 kids and 3 to 4 adults. The bus was pretty full when they got on yesterday so they had to spread out. One boy, probably no more than 10, sat next to me with a caretaker and another child behind.

The kid next to me began rocking back and forth in the seat, not violently, just enough to make a nice “whump-“ing sound when his backpack hit it. The caretaker reached over the seat and put her hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Sit still,” she said and waited a moment before sitting back. I turned to say “It’s cool. I’m Autistic and I get it,” but before I could a tall man standing by the back door looked at the caretaker and said “Not to…

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