My wake/sleep cycle is fucked. I don’t mean that as a complaint, just an observation. Lacking anything to keep me more-or-less on someone else’s “normal” schedule, I immediately fell into Awake for 20 hours, sleep for 6, rinse and repeat and don’t give a damn what the clock says.
We both tend to do this, my clone and I. It’s more of a problem for him because he usually has that annoying has-to-interact-with-humans thing, and most humans follow the dictates of a clock enforcing 24-hour cycles. Thus, he has to obey the Clock, too.
Anyway. Fucked-up wake/sleep cycle. Talking to myself — in space… Um, forget I said that last part, okay? A Portrait of the Author Using Questionable Acting Techniques As a Way of Understanding His Characters. (No, you don’t see me wearing prosthetic pointy ears, dammit. *realizes unintentional irony, laughs out loud*)
Yeah, it’s kinda like that. Unspeakably inconvenient at a time when I ought to be focusing on backstory and dialogue snippets for characters who may be supporting cast in my clone’s current WiP (and if they’re not in this one, they’ll be in the sequel for sure). I want to say, Dude, your life is GOOD right now — why are you bothering me with what happens later? Am I going to have to… deny you coffee? I’d do it, too. It’s actually his coffee habit anyway, not mine. (*shakes head* Do not start thinking I’ve got multiple personality disorder. According to some of the “experts,” I don’t even have one personality… ‘Falling into character’ is a technique I use for improving deep-POV writing, that’s all. You only think I may be insane because I’m talking about it instead of pretending I don’t do it, the way most writers pretend.) Anyway. Maybe I should switch to tea for while. RS doesn’t like coffee, although he’ll drink it if he has to. If necessary, I’ll pull out the big guns: I have two bottles of Angry Orchard cider in the refrigerator. (Yeah, right. I know exactly what would happen if I drank two bottles of hard cider. I’d end up singing along with Blues Traveler’s “Run-Around” over and over and over, and… well, I don’t need that.)
Totally not-joking tangent: No, I’m not manic, but thanks for being concerned about me anyway. It’s simply that I’m in a lot less pain these last few days, and all the endorphins that my body produces in a desperate attempt to make me somewhat functional suddenly have no place they need to be. Thus, my uncharacteristically “extroverted” behavior. Fear not, it will pass.
I see you still not making eye contact (metaphorically!) with that post about “jokes — seriously.” 🙂 I get it, though: It’s a weird (and long) post, and you don’t know what to say in response, so you read it and click Like and move on. I do that, too, whenever I don’t know what to say but want to show my support for a blogger friend.
See, we’re not all that different.
Yes, I’ve been reading far too much online lately about autism. Specifically, I’ve been reading blogs by fellow autistics. I find myself becoming angry at times — fortunately, only seldom at the bloggers themselves.
I cannot accept, though, that all autistic people take everything literally. (I’ll blog about that later, I think…) For that matter, I cannot accept that all autistic people “see things in black and white.” Alas, my preferred metaphor — yes, metaphor! — has been confiscated, claimed by unpleasant people who would link it forever to unpleasant things. (That was also somewhat the point of my post about changing character names. *sigh* Go through my list of interviews from April and see if any of those names jump out at ya, if you’re really, really curious which could be a problem.) Nevertheless, I live my life in metaphor; I think my brain is wired for it. That’s what my occasional — and deliberate — bouts of pronoun slippage are about, and the maybe-synesthesia through which I interpret some of that information overload… (Hmm. Something about “multicolored confetti” would be appropriate here, except I think even LR and my clone would miss the reference. Unlike Arde Mayhew from The Warrior’s Apprentice, I have never “been red,” but I can sort of understand the feeling anyway.)
And another thing. What the fuck is up with this insistence that we’re all “mindblind”? Seriously. Here’s a metaphor for ya: I flinch at every goddamn noise, and the “experts” insist I’m deaf. Um… No. Hell, no. Far from being oblivious to even the fact that other people have feelings, I have to deliberately block those feelings if I’m in close proximity; sometimes they feel like sandpaper or a metal file across my skin, or a shove between my shoulder blades. Remember when I said my psychological coffee habit came from one time when I was awake all night feeling someone else’s anxiety attack? True story. Freaked me out at the time, but because of what I was hearing, not the fact that I was hearing it. (Okay, that freaked me out a little bit, too. I didn’t know what was really going on. I also didn’t know this wasn’t something that happened to everyone occasionally. So there’s my “mindblindness,” I suppose: when I was younger, I didn’t realize some people aren’t psychic. 😛 )
So, short version of that tirade: Fuck you, I’m an empath (*said Weaver without a trace of irony*). That and being autistic are not mutually exclusive states of existence. It’s not “woo woo,” it’s neurology. And maybe quantum physics, because isn’t everything?