My California Adventure (with plenty of hilarity sprinkled in)

I was in California, for the first time, the last week of February. It was quite the adventure. I had a couple of things happen that were brought on by Asperger's which I'll gladly talk about. My dad rented a house because his wife, Janet, lived in California for a number of years before coming back to the east coast and eventually marrying him. She has friends out there that have come over and she wanted an extended vacation to avoid the rest of winter, so they rented a house for a month.

The flight itself wasn't bad at all, but after that the shit hit the fan for the rest of the evening. We got in a around 9 PM local time and then we had to wait on the runway for forty five minutes. After the six hour and a half hour flight fresh air was at a premium and the lavs were overflowing. People wanted off that bird, fast. We finally pulled up to the gate and dashed to freedom. The torture that is the bag carousel was next. I did most of the heavy lifting and then brought the bags to dad. We had to wait on the curb for the "C" shuttle to take us to that lot, where our car company would pick us up. Although under the roof it was raining and traffic at the airport was brutal.

We waited nearly an hour and then shuffled onto the shuttle, which was now full. Our party was stuck at the door and Boo, my dads dog who is a lap size Cockapoo, was at Janet's feet. Actually, before that she was on the pile of bags but kept sliding off. The floor proved more dangerous as our proximity to the door almost found her pancaked a couple times. The driver told us where to get off, but the very large parking lot was confusing and we screwed that up mightily. With the rain that had fallen before things were a little muddy. Dad called the car company and they told us where they were going to pick us up. Dad and Janet then debated where that was and got into a shouting match about where to go and kept calling the company to clarify where the cell phone lot we were looking for was. They were getting really pissed and I was trying not to laugh in their faces, like I always do in these types of situations and everyone on the spectrum knows what I am talking about.

So after walking this way and that (and dragging out bags through the mud) we finally met the guy, and he admitted finding the lot is hard for most people. Maybe they should change their pick up policy. So we get the the rental place and are filling out the paper work and Janet is just on mental tilt at this point and I tell her that her Sperry's have some mud on them. She walks up the the pedestal where they guy is processing out information and starts wiping her shoe off on it! I was shocked and it was something I have never seen her do, really out there for her to behave like that. It was right after this point that the rental dude then dropped a bombshell: No dogs allowed in the van. We simultaneously gave him a 'you've got to be shitting me' look and then told him that Boo does not shed and is hypoallergenic, which is true. After explaining that to him in detail we walked back out to our car and wound up with a pretty sweet Dodge Caravan. The drive was around fifty miles to Thousand Oaks. That driver flew by, even though it was late, around 11:30 and I was hungry. I bit the bullet on not being able to go to a drive-through, which I got over. We arrived at the house at around 1 am and basically just collapsed on our beds, saving unpacking and gawking at the house until later that morning.

I woke up at 7 am, hungry. After all my stomach was on east coast time, so it was really 10 am for me. I took the van as I had discussed with Dad earlier that morning. My first two minutes driving were absolute paranoia. The odd thing was that the roads were nearly empty until I got to the highway. I had not felt like this in a while, let alone behind the wheel of a car. It passed as soon as it came and I was fine. It should be noted that when I picked up my own rental car a day later I didn't have any such episode. I pulled into a Carl's Jr. and went degenerate on some sub par breakfast food. Returning home I got a good look at the place. It was nicely furnished, had a lemon tree in the back yard and I was surprised dad and Janet had found such a good place to rent. The house is usually for people who have been relocated with a company and need a place to stay for a few months until they find a permanent place to live.

Later that day we needed groceries so we went shopping and that was fun. We had dinner that night at Janet's friends house and they caught up while I listened on. There were two groups: the male and female. I shifted between each room and heard all sorts of stories and got the vibe everyone was putting out. There was no one there my age so I felt right at home (and no, I'm not joking as I tend to gravitate towards adults even from a young age). These people were late forties to sixty and it was interesting to hear what they had to say about work and their kids. My brain started to get tired and we left an hour or so later.

The next day we went and got my car, which turned out to be a Ford Focus, a newer model, not the little death trap looking wedge they used to be when they first came out. I felt very comfortable in it. I hit up a couple of consignment shops, no luck there, and went back to the house. Later that day I drove a few exits down to Agora Hills to the Bikram studio there. The teacher was late and a woman waiting with me outside said "I hope Lady Gaga isn't in there doing a private lesson again". The grammy's were not too long before and Gaga had been there doing just that, and I think it was so she could remain away from the spotlight that is the international headquarters in LA. The class was fine for me that day, although the teacher whined about me taking sips of water. I get really bad dry mouth in the winter and if I don't keep things flowing I cough, which is annoying in itself. I kept my mouth shut to her scolding. After I had showered it was off to one of the places I was eager to visit for the first time: In-N-Out Burger.

I walked in and acted like I had been there before, although I was giddy inside. The place was packed. I had always heard of the secret menu and knew instantly why it was necessary; the menu is about 10 items total, including drinks. As I looked around while waiting in line the joint was really jumping and once it was my turn I ordered a double double, fries and a strawberry shake. I kept it simple and left the secret menu out. I got a nice table outside and, after taking the obligatory picture to post for my friends, dug in. It was like heaven. All the ingredients worked perfectly to complement one another. I finished quickly and noticed I still had plenty of shake left, so I went inside and ordered a single (no cheese this time) to complete the feast. I drove home content and Janet asked me about it and hung on my every word as if someone had paid her to do so. Tired and full, I slept like a baby that night.

The next morning, Dad and I took a ride to Ventura and played at the poker room there. I dropped $250 and he left even after a few hours, but we had fun though. We went to a seafood joint on the water and walked around a little before finding it. The place had a 1980s vibe to me somehow, I don't know why, just some places seem to have different decade feelings for me and this was no different. The food was OK, not like we have here in New England and we stopped at a fruit stand on the way back.

The next evening, now Thursday I went fishing with a guy named Mark who we'd met the first night at Janet's friends house. He fishes as a work break most days and we planned to go out on the man made lake near their house. Before that happened we were visiting one of Janet's friends for a lakeside lunch. I got a chicken club sandwich, sans tomato and it was the best I had ever had. Janet wanted to do an impromptu photo shoot next to the water and we took turns playing camera man. As we walked back under the curtain that provided shade for the restaurant Janet slipped on the mud and bashed her head on the metal pipe holding the curtain down. There was an audible bonk and the tears came. I laughed, shocker there, but not too much as she had really done a number on the top of her head. That pipe was thick metal, and it had to be to hold the curtain down when it was windy. She had an ice pack the rest of the meal but she took it better than I thought. There was a window of an hour and a half until fishing so I just decided to go on the boat early and take a nap.

Mark arrived and we talked about the strategy we were going to use before casting off. We sort of slowly trolled around the lake and I eventually felt comfortable enough to give him feedback on the speed at which we did so. I like to take my time, but you see more of the lake if you go a little faster, so we found a happy medium and then slowed it down again when a spot either looked good or he knew they were typically biting. He hooked the first one and gave me the rod. I was sort of shocked when he did this but, as he stated later on, he gets to fish daily and I didn't, so letting me fight them was something he was happy to do. I found out that hooking them was the much easier part, the fight was tough when using 8 lb test line. I caught three nice ones, a couple broke the line and we got a decent amount of strikes that we couldn't capitalize on. it was a good night and Mark got video of me reeling in a nice one. Talking to Mark he elaborated on his job I had heard about earlier in the week. He was the producer for infomercials and people in his friend network had been given roles in a few of them. In fact Michelle, who's house it was that we went to the first night, was in a little ad called the Tiddy Bear. Once she told me this I instantly knew what she was talking about and laughed my ass off. We all watched it and dad and Janet were in stitches. It was actually ranked the #2 worst infomercial of all time, which in my late night TV and YouTube binges I had seen before. Michelle had a speaking line in it and we wiped tears from our eyes. After it got dark around 7 pm we went back to the dock and I gave him a hearty 'thank you' accompanied by a firm handshake. I went to In-N-Out Burger once again and then returned home to tell Dad and Janet about the fun I'd had.

Friday was a busy day for me. I had planned a journey for myself to LA all week and was going to hit some places I had wanted to go to for a long time. I wanted to see where the Bikram studio, which was actually international headquarters, was so I went there first. I left around 10 am and traffic was lighter than normal. I found the studio easily enough and then headed to Barney's Beanery. This place had an awesome vibe. Pictures were arranged in a collage all over everything and there were license plates and sports on the TV's. The menu, which was like a newspaper if I remember correctly, was extensive and breakfast was anytime. I had seen the place on the Travel Channel (as I did a lot of my other food destinations) and it lived up to the hype. I ended up ordering a Sam Adams and a combo half sandwich & bowl of chili (which I have never ordered anywhere) and it was great. I lingered and really enjoyed the chili while wondering what the walls would say if they could talk. Even the bathrooms were cool. After I finished my second water I left and drove around West LA. Not that it was a shock to me, but Janet was right about that part of town being very gay, rainbows were everywhere. I guess it stood out here less than it used to, but after gay marriage was legalized it became old hat, just like in Massachusetts. It's not that I don't care about it or what it stands for, its just that I'm so used to seeing people being able to express themselves so openly. I still can't see why some states that are so against it. I like to let people be who they are, and I actually got in an argument with some guy on this blog about the issue back in 2012 over a post titled The Chick-Fil-A Argument: The New Civil War? Reading over it again there were some typos, but I was in a car with some friends going to my friends so I guess I get a pass. This guy was big into the Bible being against homosexuality. Read it to find out how it went. Anyway, back to my Friday.

Driving around I hit the 90210 area code and cruised up and down the streets of a nice neighborhood. What did I see exactly? I'll tell you a little later. The traffic by that time was horrible and I went to the Staples Center and turned back. I saw parts of Hollywood sort of by default as I was going that way anyhow. My next food joint was Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles. This ended up being around 9 pm, so there was 6 hours of driving around in between there and Barney's. I got the chicken and waffles, which should be no surprise, and devoured it much to the surprise of my waiter who laughed when I told him I wanted two waffles. He was impressed at my speed and how spotless the plate was. I hadn't eaten in a while, I was hungry. So I drove back and, after a very long day I felt that feeling upstairs, the one like you have an invisible helmet on that blocks your reception of the outside world.

I knew that Dad and Janet were having friends over for dinner that night and my aunt and uncle had just arrived as well earlier that day. So there were about ten people there and I texted Janet well before I arrived home that I need about an hour before I could be myself, mentally, again. Janet is not one to check her phone when entertaining, which is polite, but not something I was happy about. Looking once again at the text I'd sent I saw that it hadn't been read yet, so she was in the dark. I walked in and went straight to my room beside the crowd to my right that was saying "Kyle" and different versions of "Hello". I waved them off, because I had to and laid myself down. I head Janet saying my name repeatedly to come out and dad saying to "come out and have a beer with uncle Colin" but I did not respond. Dad came into my room a couple minutes later and I half angrily said to him "Dad, get out, give me like an hour or so and I'll be fine. Just turn that light back off, close the door and I'll come out when I'm ready and I'll explain later". I wasn't really meaning to be angry at all, although he might have construed it that way. I was direct, that would be more accurate, and he gave in and left which was nice because I didn't want to either explain or end up going on a rant. When I'm mentally tired I can't think critically or answer a lot of basic questions without having to think about the answers through a dense layer of fog. My responses are not articulate in any way and its like talking to a wall. Mom knows this, Dad still hasn't grasped it or seen me in this mental state enough to know when to leave me alone. One of the few things I can still do in this zombie state is drive a car, perhaps because that is second nature to me by now and is more of a survival skill. If a cop were to pull me over in this foggy state (which would be an ultimate nightmare for me) I don't know how it would end. They would probably think I was doped up or something when I was unable to answer their questions.

I emerged a little over an hour later and I was back to my old self. I recalled my journey to the crowd and told them what I saw while driving through Beverly Hills. I said "that in the course of ten minutes and five streets I saw seven Bentley's, two super-cars (insane sports cars) fifty nice homes and eighty Mexican's doing lawns"; the last part being a little edgy but resulting in an eruption of laughter from those gathered around. That joke let me know I was really back and the rest of the night went smoothly. I never had to explain why I needed the time alone, either.

The next morning I went to take class at Bikram Yoga International Headquarters, which I mentioned earlier, in West LA. I had heard a couple weeks before, when I was telling friends from my home studio about my upcoming vacation that I planned to go there. Neil told me that if I were to go to the 10 am Saturday class I would see Bikram Choudhury, whom it is named after. He always teaches the class at that time if he is in studio. I arrived early, with traffic as unpredictable I gave myself plenty of time to spare, and ended up waiting in my car four almost an hour. I pulled into the parking garage at 9:20 am and the sign said that those visiting the studio have 2 1/2 hours free with validation. I parked on level 1 (which I forgot later on) and saw a couple who I asked where to go. Turns out they were just about to ask me the same thing as they were also out of town, from Baltimore. So we found the elevator together and rode up. I told them that Bikram teaches the 10am if in LA and the woman got really excited at the prospect of taking his class. I led the way through the main door and we paid and checked in. She asked if Bikram was here and the woman working the desk replied in the affirmative, turning the lady into a a girly giggly mess as if she was about to see the Beatles live or something of that magnitude.
And for the record, I'm not blind to Bikram Yoga and its founder being in the headlines for the wrong reasons, but fact remains that my shoulder I had surgery on has never felt better and my body overall feels great, not to mention I've had friends from my home studio who have used it to heal after lots of other injuries and one who even avoided having to get spinal surgery (and that last one is kind of a huge deal) so save your criticisms for another time.

Upon walking into the room, which is easily the hottest I have ever been in, I picked my spot near the front, which I always do. You think that given my shy personality I'd be in the back, but not when I do yoga. Besides, you get a better view of your postures and have less distractions when there is no one in front of you blocking your view of the mirror. A guy came in and he had some sort of gun he was pointing at different areas of the room. Though I'd never seen one I knew immediately he was taking heat readings with it. A typical class environment is 105 F and 40% humidity. We found out later in class that it was 120 F in there and if the heaters weren't shut off it would be 135 F (the latter is clearly what I initially felt when I entered and it felt cooler after 20 minutes or so after class began). I must say Bikram was tough. He kept going after the husband of the giddy lady I had walked in with because the guy wasn't just slightly off on his postures, he was off the reservation. I've seen plenty of beginners before in my five years in the hot room but this dude took the cake. The good thing about Bikram talking about postures a little during class was that we got little breaks I was not accustomed to. My left foot, which I broke in high school, didn't hurt as much so I could stay on my feel longer without needing to lay down. I did go down once and Bikram said "Hey, Mr. Blue! Are you all right?" I gave him the thumbs up and nodded and he said "OK" in return. The class did go twenty minutes over its usual time, I think, and it must have been 110 minutes of torture for the guy he kept having to yell at. Upon exiting the room I never felt better after a class in my life. I chugged a Gatorade, showered and changed in the locker room. I came out in a towel and Bikram was there telling a really skinny guy that he needed to gain some weight. Upon seeing me, he told me I was too fat and to give the first guy some of my weight. So the founder of Bikram Yoga called me fat, but I'll take it. I proved him correct an hour later.

I got back on the elevator and couldn't seem to recall where I had parked. I thought it was on level two so I went there first. Turned out I was wrong so I got back on and went to level three (better to go all the way down then to go up first, rather than go up and have to backtrack even more, I hate wasted movement and even prefer to do a loop rather than go the same way twice). When I reached three I looked about and pushed the remote on the car to locate it as I had done before. The floors aren't massive, but just enough where there are two sides and the signal won't reach. Now I had seen plenty of them before, but the nine or so Bentley's in an array of colors/styles that I saw was still a thing of beauty. I knew Bikram had a car collection but was unsure where he kept it and it turns out this was only part of it. I told our studio leader Teri when I got back and she casually assured me that they were all his. I eventually found my car one level one. I had a couple pieces of chewing gum left and, as I sometimes do to friends, leave it in the handle of their car door still wrapped. I'm not sure what they thought when they saw it, and I'll probably never know.

My last real food stop that I wanted to visit was Pink's Hot Dogs which was an eight mile drive from where I currently was. I found it easily and paid the meter, which take credit cards, and hopped in line. The line at Pink's can be long, but I only waited twenty minutes. I ended up ordering the Brando dog, which was a nine inch hot dog with mustard, onions, chili and shredded cheddar cheese. I added on an order of fries and a cream soda. This meal, like my earlier burger experience, was perfect. I'd never had a chili dog until that moment, and what a way to do it a true original since 1939. I drove a little more through Hollywood and then back to the house. One more night, we ended up going to dinner, and then back on the big metal bird to the frozen snow covered tundra that is Massachusetts.

I had a good time in California. It was a nice vacation that I needed on so many levels. I crossed a lot of places or my food bucket list, that's for sure. The enjoyed the views, weather and added some new friends. What more could I ask for? Another week, maybe.

How Having Asperger's is Like Being a Vampire

We hide in plain sight. We walk among you with a secret that we hold very close. You may catch a glimpse of what we are truly capable of but it feels like it couldn't be possible; so you let it go. You may ask us about it later but we will be coy, or at least try to be about it. We only tell people we trust because we don't like being put in a box you think we should be in. Like other people we have things we are good at and things we struggle with. Despite what you may think we have our groups, just like everyone else, who are in on the whole thing. We stick together and we can pick one another out of a crowd easily. You could say it takes on to know one, but we don't call each other out in public. One thing is for sure, once you find out our secret you never see us in the same light again.

I hide who I am from most people and it is necessary to do so. It's not that they don't deserve to know. I'm sure they would like to know why I do some of the things I do. I would rather have them think I am just a weird guy. But the fact remains that people can be stupid. They don't know what having Asperger's means. I don't want them treating me like I'm  feeble minded or someone they can take advantage of easily. I don't want them to feel sorry for me either. My own father thought that I would never be able to drive a car on my own; he must have watch Rainman one too many times. Turns out that I am a better driver than him and everyone else in the family. I feel very at home behind the wheel of a car, no no matter what what situation I find myself in. I am an aggressive driver and if people are sitting at a stop sign waving one another to go I wave to them on my way through the zone (after stopping of course). My style of driving is the exact opposite of my personality you could say. I didn't tell anyone at the DMV about AS, or have mentioned it to those racist cops who used to pull me over for no reason. If I ended up making a mistake they would assume I was mentally unfit to drive and take my license away. Just like everyone else, the less they know the better.

I hide in plain sight because I have to and you would, too. I'm sure it will come out eventually but I want to have all my ducks in a row when it does so the people who try to take things away don't have a cause to do so, or other people will have my back and things will be just as they were before anyone knew.  

Me vs. Business Me: I Have an Alter Ego

My business, which is jewelry, is not for people who are mentally weak. I am a one man show and wear all the hats all the time. If I'm not on point then I lose money. This takes into account that I either overpaid or sold too cheap, either way it is money that is no longer available to me. People learn by watching as well as doing and I did more of the former, initially. I watched how the people moved about and what they were after. I saw they how interacted with others in the trade and how they put themselves in the best position possible. When I felt I was ready to swim into deeper water, not too deep yet as I am barely over my head and can still sink down and push off the bottom quite easily, I applied what I had learned. Let me tell you how I transformed into a scared kid to a juvenile great white shark.

There isn't much emotion in negotiating, which is great for me; the less the better. You have to be personable but also focused enough to get what you need and walk away when you don't. I used to be uncomfortable when settling on a price, but that has since passed. I've brokered diamonds for thousands of dollars and the higher price I get for the customer the bigger my commission. I realize there are some things you can haggle on and some you can't. On the buying end of things business me doesn't care if you need this money to pay your rent, but will meet you somewhere in the middle if its a great deal for me anyway. I have a much better poker face than when I started. Telling a sob story to someone who rarely ever cries won't get you very far. In the end it all comes down to money and I have started to choose more wisely how it is spent.

I always think, before spending for business, "Is there anything I else that I could do with this money that will make me more than this deal" and also "what other opportunities are in the near future that I may need this cash for?" A bigger question I used to fail to ask was "Is this worth it?" The latter came about after I spent money on small ticket items that I was only going to make $10 on anyway. And before you say think well if you pay $10 and get $10 back than that is totally worth it. It is if you can sell the item right away, not in three years. I could have done a lot with all those $10 mistakes, that are still sitting either in a box or in a display case I have to pay rent on. I've since learned to spend $10-20 on things I can sell for $60-100, sometimes much more, and quickly.

I like to buy things that have multiple uses. If I buy silver/gold even platinum scrap I know that I can make something out of it if it doesn't sell. This gives me a huge edge on the so called 'scrappers' who only buy precious metals for bullion value. They don't know that some items worth only a few dollars are worth one hundred times more if they are made by a certain designer, and there are more of these, both people and the pieces they unknowingly scrap than you think. How did I get this edge? Hours upon hours of study, both at the jewelers bench and utilizing the computer. I have a lot of alone time, and I like to use it accordingly.

Business me isn't that much different than normal me. Except for the fact that He can walk away easily from a sour deal, negotiate like a pro, know when I need to give a little or when to stand strong and know all the procedures and tricks to make the most money possible. But the thing is, business me is an illusion, he only exists in the minds of the people I do business with. After the transaction is over I revert back to my old self and no one else is the wiser. If people knew who they were really dealing with I wouldn't be able to make another dime, but then again maybe that isn't true anymore. Evolve or die, or in this case, go broke. 

Battling the Man Cold (But it might as well be the damn plague)

I get sick once every four years or so. The episode usually comes to pass every presidential election or leap year, though not at those specific times. Usually it goes that everyone around me gets sick. I've dodged more bullets in this department then you would believe, some nasty stuff, too. When it hits, it hurts me big time because I am not used to it. For something to effect me it has to be damn near plague level, and if you ever see me sick, run; better yet put one of those suits they wear in a clean room environment. I could tough it out, but I'd rather relax and let it run its course. I use the word relax loosely. It's more of a 'sit there and suffer' cycle. I don't like medicines at all. I take a little vitamin C but that is more of a mental boost than anything. I drink lots more water, tea (which I always drink) and enough OJ to kill a small horse. I am patient, I just don't like being one. Slowly I feel myself go from bad to worse and then come out of it the same way. The thing that troubles me the most is afterward. I get sick so infrequently that I forget what it is like to feel normal afterwards. I always ask, "is this what I felt like before? I mean really, is this what normal is supposed to feel like?" That state of confusion doesn't last too long but its as awkward as an elevator ride. If I wake up and still feel normal/better than I am all set. I think I do this in case I think I am better but not quite, sort of like having a set back. I know I am not going to get sicker, I just need to make sure I am well and strong enough to go back to regular living.

As you have already assumed I am sick at the moment, and feel as though I'm over the hump and getting better, but I am not sure. This could be just a period where I've plateaued and don't move up or down in terms of level of symptoms shown or felt. This physical limbo is what kills me mentally. I like to have control over all the things that I can ( I'm not messing with anyone else's free will) especially my own body, and when you don't know it is a horrible feeling. I feel helpless. I enjoy my naps but taking so many is annoying and I don't really get to decide when I'm taking them when I'm sick. I know what they feeling is when I need one, though, and I always oblige to what my body is telling me physically (luckily I've learned to block out a lot of the mental stuff as I've matured, but more on that in other posts).

The reason I'm up typing this, at around 1 am while I'm sick, is that I over-napped and can't sleep, but I want to. I guess I'll blow my nose a couple more times and try again. 

Andrew and Myself: Two Sides of the Same Coin

I thought about doing this post for a while but finally feel I have enough information to do so. I still have the bigger more interesting one that highlights one of my most awesome abilities to do, so stay tuned for that. This one is about a man named Andrew who I went to high school with. I didn't realize it for a while, but we have more in common than me or my friends ever thought.

If you drive around my hometown of Andover, MA you will sometimes see a heavy set gentleman walking around with headphones on. People who don't know anything about him would call him the village idiot, and they would be wrong. One thing is for sure, he's not a typical guy in the sense that you think. People are gifted in other areas besides those you might consider desirable. Andrew is one of these people. back in high school he was in SPED classes, and I guess I could have been in them but that may have been unnecessary. I know how to use most of the information I learned in school, how it applies to real life. Andrew, on the other hand, not so much. He could remember theorems and all sorts of high level stuff but simple life applications was where he would struggle. Street smarts are what he lacks. He generally walks around town with a camera and sees all the people he knows, but always asks, "what's your name?" just for a quick ice breaker. After you tell them who you are the flood gates open up and he suddenly knows more about your life than you do. Dates and facts and birthdays are what Andrew is great at. If I'm not mistaken, I think he works part time at a law firm where he does heaven knows what, but it is likely either simple work or very factual, highly detailed information. He has the mind of a super computer and it was rumored back in high school that he memorized the phone book, which if you've interacted with him you wouldn't bet against that fact.

I see Andrew around two or three times a week and sometimes give him rides where we talk about whatever. He is always polite but lacks a filter, not in a bad way, just says whats on his mind, but sometimes the situation calls for said information to be more discreet. I bet with his memory he would be good as a gossip columnist. With my own brain I feel I could do the same. Of course he tells people all the time, in person and online, "tell your dad/mom happy birthday for me" ALWAYS on the correct day. Being not shy at all, which is a wonder in itself, he knows thousands of people and he has them all stored in that brain of his, to a T. People like when you can remember their name. But do they like it more when you know everything else about them? The reason for this post is that I had my 10 year high school reunion over the weekend, and guess who was wondering around with his Fuji Film disposable cameras all night?

Andrew's MO was spot on, always is, just as I described before. He's always laughing and squealing without a care in the world. I did tell a couple of my friends who were in attendance that Andrew and I had a lot more in common than they think we do. I told them we were to sides of the same coin to which they just laughed it off like they didn't hear or couldn't believe it to be even remotely true. It was like I was saying I was a big shot dating a super model, and they weren't buying it. Oh, well, I tried. But how varied could his brain and mine be? What particular levels on the autism spectrum do we each rest upon, and why? Although I haven't flat out asked him if he was autistic, the evidence is pretty overwhelming. This is the one time its OK to assume. He's not overly trusting to the point where you could rob him, but Andrew is fearless around most people, especially friends, which as I already stated he has a lot of. He walks up to girls all the time and asks his usual questions which most know him and are polite enough to answer. Some of these girls are very attractive and I know many men, myself included, who would just cower in fear or stare if they walked into a bar. I give him props on that facet of his personality.

What I take away from interacting and trying to figure things out about Andrew is this: Everyone has their own unique gifts and challenges, and they use them how they please. Something may be very easy for you and others a nightmare. I have yet to see Andrew in a scary situation where he loses it or does something and someone yells at him, but I wonder what he does when such things arise. People don't always understand or play along and that's why I think I like where I am, and won't move anywhere else, and I think Andrew is in the same boat; although I don't know who cares for him and if he even has a say in the matter. While I may not be skilled at recalling a random phone number at a moments notice, there is one thing I can do really well, which is remember faces, but more on that later.

                                                 Me                                          Andrew


Questions or comments? Let me know.

Tempering Your Brain: Making Changes for the Better

The reason I'm doing this post mainly because I asked a question to Winnie Dunn, PhD at the AANE annual conference yesterday in Boston. They way I used the term or thought she was using it was not the same, and she liked the brief story I told and what my own definition meant to me. People were surprised by my insight I guess, and I talked to a couple of them about it afterwards. I thought people knew of this method in one form or another, which is why I didn't post about it before. This is my own original idea. Although her answer helped me clarify what I was thinking, I like to think I enlightened Winnie and everyone else in attendance on a new way of thinking about an ongoing problem that people on the autism spectrum struggle with. Sorry, sometimes you have to be arrogant to avoid confusion. 

When I was a child I had problems that seem so distant to me now. I wonder who I was and what I was thinking back then, and why these things happened. I've talked about anxiety already but that is something I will always have in one form or another. This isn't like that. I'd like to discuss different problems and how I might have solved them, mostly without even knowing it. 

When I was very young, probably around three or four, I used to have tantrums. If my mom did something different than my normal routine or I couldn't have something I really wanted than I would start screaming. Sounds pretty typical, right? Well I would yell so hard that I would pass out. I'm sure it was quite the scene. The first time my mom thought I was dead or something, but our neighbor, and my godmother Dee knew what was going on. I'm sure this happened more than once. I don't know when it stopped, but it did, so we didn't have to worry about it anymore. I do wonder, even now, about when the last time I cried for no reason was. When was the last time someone told me 'no' and I felt unable to think of any way I could do anything other than cry? What did that even look like? Did I begin to conjure up some tears but stopped myself or did someone else say something to comfort me? Whatever the case, I didn't cry after that unless it really meant something. With age comes learning how to deal with your emotions properly, for everyone. Raw emotion is one thing, but trying to change the way you deal with things you cannot control is another matter entirely.

During my middle school years I would come home every day and then go upstairs to take a nap. I'd wake up after a couple hours and then do m school work (or not do my school work at all) and then have dinner with the family and watch TV and go to bed. Actually I would try to go to bed. Falling asleep was sometimes difficult due to the nap I had taken earlier in the day. I didn't know then what a problem this could be or even that it was one at all. Near the end of college I was commuting so rather than drive half an hour back home during my couple hour class break I would instead go (or simply stay there) to the library on south campus. The building went up about five levels and I liked to go up to the third or fourth floors to what I called the stacks. Thousands of books were arranged like any other library but there were also ancient cheap pleather couches that you could lay down on if you wanted to. I would use my bag as a pillow and close my eyes and think without falling asleep. I couldn't fall asleep because I had to be at class on time and didn't have a phone I could set an alarm on yet. I would stay and think about anything and everything. I'd work through problems I was having or think about things I wanted to do. It took me a little while to realize it, but I was refreshed upon leaving the stacks, and I didn't have the problem of falling asleep later that night. I use this method even today and it is a huge part of me being able to regulate and replenish how much mental energy I have during the day. It should be noted that mental energy and physical energy are two different things. I have strong muscles at most times because I work out, but if my brain has turned to mush after a long day then I won't be able to hold a conversation with anyone. The whole process of knowing how to deal with my mental energy opened a world of new possibilities for me in terms of what I could accomplish, if I so chose. But what does this have to do with tempering my brain, and what does that term I made up even mean?

Temper:Verb. improve the hardness and elasticity of (steel or other metal) by reheating and then cooling it and that is according to what Google gave me when I did a search just now. The way I'm using it is basically the same, just replace 'steel or other metal' with 'mind'. Your mind does not have to stay the way you think it is. You can make changes. I'm not saying it is easy, but you can do so if you try hard enough. I like to use the comparison (and I like using them in general) so that people can relate someone they know to be true to what I'm trying to get them to learn. I mentioned earlier that I work out. The first few times you do a workout it is going to be hard. After that your body gets used to it and adapts to the unique stresses being put on it. Still more time passes and you realize you can do much more than when you started. This is what you have to try to do with your brain. If you get mentally tired or even stressed during the first couple exposures to what you are trying to get better at, let's say be more comfortable around large groups of people, than that is expected. What you can't do, and what I used to and a lot of other people on the autism spectrum do is give up when it gets to be too much. I am not talking about just backing off or taking a break for the day, I mean that they avoid the situation at all costs. How do they expect to change? Change (given that this is what they seek) can only come about by continually throwing yourself into the fire, so to speak, and tempering your mind. It is not easy to do but once you get over the initial hump and see some results does the whole thing snowball and you find yourself being able to do things you never thought possible. Going back to the parallel of working out to further this, you need to change it up once again.

If you continue to work out doing the same routine over and over again your body hits what is known as the plateau effect, where gains will not occur anymore. What you need to do is vary the workout and hit different groups of muscles or the same ones, just with different moves. Exercising new muscles or the same ones in a different manner will elicit change again. This relates back to the brain by moving onto a different mental block or problem, let's say for example learning to drive a car. All the stressors are different. There are still people, but they are in cars with horns and moving much faster than if they were a group on foot. What you would do in this case is to learn to drive in an empty parking lot first, like I did, and then take it out to the open road. Usually this is done with a driving instructor to guide you. Oncer you are comfortable on the back roads and around your own town the highway should be your final goal. Things happen fast and you cannot afford to make mistakes. I can understand why people on the spectrum don't like driving. I tempered my brain to deal with it and, from dealing with other things using the same process (which I wasn't aware I was doing until I spent time on that pleather couch thinking about it) learned to do it very well. Nothing on the road scares me. Even when my brain is toast from a day of dealing with people driving is something I don't even have to worry about. I like to think it is a basic survival instinct for me, something that I can do even on mental autopilot. I have been driving for over ten years (got my license at 18, which is later than most), feel I am in complete control and experience very little stress when I'm on the road. It took a while, though, but once you get the ball rolling and refuse to give up you will see the results, if you want them. And you have to want to change, if you don't you will only be setting yourself up to fail. You have to want it. You might not be ready for one thing, but once you get better at something else it may help you to finally break through the initial stumbling block. 

I can definitely say that sticking with things mentally has given me an edge over most people like myself. I feel as though I owe it to those who need help to give it to them, and why shouldn't I? Seeing people suffer inside their own minds is not easy for me to do. If I can help them I typically do, but some people are so resistant to change that it is out of the question. If you need advice how to get started then let me know. I think I can aid you in anything except how to pluck up the courage talk to women you don't know but are interested in more than just having a conversation with. If I take the training wheels off I'll be sure to help you with that once I have learned enough to really know what I'm talking about; just don't hold your breath on that particular subject with me.  

Over Exaggeration and Yes or No Questions

As long as I can remember my dad has been one for embellishment. I think that is a signature of good story telling but it dilutes truth to a degree I don't like, especially when it is about me. Not that a father should be proud of his son, but stretching truth is something I don't like someone doing for me when I'm in the room. I can recall me either making or doing something for a party one time and then dad telling people about it afterwards as it being "the hit of the party!" This may seem trivial but I didn't like him saying that at all. It was like I assumed he fact checkers would come out of the woodwork en masse and do a thorough examination of what really transpired. Needless to say that has never happened but I still don't feel any less weird about the truth being built upon. The only real time that fact checking could have occurred was when I played college baseball. The hardest I ever threw that was verified was 88 MPH, which is fast, but dad was telling people I got it up to 90 MPH. I was 22 at the time and I stepped right into this one and told people it was only 88 MPH. For me this was a sense of pride and I didn't want to claim to throw harder than I did. I couldn't keep a straight face even to this day and tell people I threw that hard, it wouldn't feel right to do so either. I think I envision myself at a gathering spitting a whole bunch of BS and then some people who were actually present for the event in question calling me on it, out in the open. What am I supposed to do then, curse them out and call them liars or leave? If I do the first it could lead to a big argument which I never enjoy or leave and have everyone talk about me behind my back. I'd rather not have to deal with any of that crap and just give them the facts from the get go. Believe it or not, I think ahead about a lot of things, plan for scenarios so I don't panic and try to cover all my bases beforehand. Nothing is worse than a tainted legend, which is why all the steroids users in baseball will never be hall of famers. That actual leads me to the next portion of our program.

If all those steroid users had answered yes to the question "have you ever used steroids" or something along those lines right away their predicament would not have really changed. When you stop and think about it its like the guy at a party who lied and no one ever thought anyone would find out. There were obviously people on the inside who knew what was going on and it didn't take as long as they figured for them to either talk or find the truth. Nearly all of those suspected denied it first to try and save their own asses. It only prolonged their dwindling reputations and then the whole thing caved in. It was sad to watch some of my past heroes go down but everyone knew they were guilty. I know there were a lot of factors as to why they lied and this wasn't a case of tell us the truth and we will go easy on you, but rather this is everything I worked my entire life for and I want to hold onto it for a little bit longer before it goes away forever. Knowing the crap is going to hit the fan is a bad feeling, but trying to control when that happens is an even worse feeling. You have to try an manipulate so many things and people that its not even worth it.

I like to think of the time(s) back in sixth grade when I didn't do my Math Olympiad for Ms. Macnamee. Whenever she would come by for it I would open up and pretend to search in all my folders under my desk until she took a hint and walked away. I must have fumbled around under there for what seemed like hours, it was a constant happening. Eventually I had to make them up anyways, which wasn't fun. I was getting graded so to pass I had to do them at some point, there was no doubt in my mind. I just didn't want to do them (math has never been my strong subject) at that time. A lot of things in life are either pay me now or pay me later, there are no exceptions. If I had simply spoken to the teacher about not doing it I would have only succeeded in being made to do them sooner. I did create a lot of mental strain trying to lie about it, stuff no one ever needs.
If I had simply been asked the question "did you do your homework" there was no way I could try to hide it.

Yes or no questions are easy but people like to complicate them as best they can. In my mind something either happens or it doesn't. It doesn't sort of happen. When you get a problem that talks about flipping a coin 100 times and 'how many times will it be heads or tails' it is pretty simple. They never say 'how many times will it land on its side?' because that is not an option, but rather a gray area that does not pertain to the question at hand. The statement "I sort of got into Harvard" does not make sense because you are either going to Harvard or you are not, end of story. Using a more extreme example (and I know this could be a bit of an exaggeration but I'm taking a lesson from dad here) to prove my point, if you asked someone who recently climbed Mount Everest if everyone made it back safely you would expect them to say 'yes' or 'no'. You wouldn't expect them to say "well Pete didn't make it, but I'm sure he's fine up there" because we all know the truth; Pete is a Popsicle. I realize that this can be sort of cruel question because Pete is a person and that allows him to also be someones son, husband, father and best friend but that doesn't change the fact that he is now dead.

Why do we like to complicate things? Tell stories that capture the imagination but are outright lies? I'd rather people say to others 'he's just being modest' than 'he's full of it'. People are going to either find out you are full of it or never believe a word you say if you don't tell them the truth, and those are two great options. I only give credit where credit is due and I expect others do the same. If I tell someone that they have to check out a restaurant I'd rather they not be so excited that they have to do it right away and are disappointed, but have them wait and really have a good time without too much expectation. I like to be pleasantly surprised and make others feel the same way. If I tell you to do something or recommend a place to eat you should always take my advice, especially on food because nothing pissed me off more than a bad meal (and I can take forever to order and this is why I frequent places or do research beforehand). People have different tastes, but I know that if it was well worth my valuable time then I am willing to put my reputation on the line so that they can enjoy it, too.

This is a bit to think about before an upcoming post which deals with a yes or no question I have had about myself for years.