So, the week went from suck to whatever here is in an awful hurry.

Things in the social arena went south, to be euphumistic and strangely accurate. Howward Jones lyrics are dashing through my head — which is better than Motley Crue’s “Home Sweet Home”, thank you, Eric McGinty. The universe unfolds as it will, but sometimes I can’t help but question why it does so in the manner it does…

And so this weird numbness sets in, like being under emotional anasthetia. I sat in my bedroom last night, window open to a cool breeze, and smelled autumn. So I took advantage of the moment as best as possible: turned out the lights, burned a little Ocean Breeze��� incense, and cranked up Harold Budd’s ROOM disc (I can not remember the actual name of the disc, ever, but I’ve taken to referring to it as such ever since Daniel introduced me to it years back). I sat and listened to Southside at night, cars passing, neighbors talking over their beers, damnable dogs barking at everything that came within 50 yards. It was really nice, a little November in April.

And then I returned today to the corporate world, ending my first week back Working For The Man after eight months. It’s not as bad as I had expected — things might even be much better than I would have hoped. The people that I report to directly are really good folk, intelligent and hard working and — most important to me — two of the few guys at UAB that I ever had any respect for. There’s a lot of work to be done, so I don’t have to dick around waiting for something to do, and it’s actual productive work, not some busy task handed to me for political appearances.

See, that’s one thing that I hate about the corporate world. Maybe I should amend that: that’s one thing I hate about the world in general. Too often, people get so caught up playing to the vanity of those around and “above” them (which is to say, those who have something or control over something they want) that they start looking for the same in those around them. And so the PC/playing the game virus spreads, until it’s less important what kind of work quality you produce than how much you agree with them and torture yourself to make their life easy.

I just can’t bring myself to do that. And I’m sure that, career-wise, I’ll suffer long and greatly for it. But at least I’ll have my dignity and my sad, sad, idealism…

At any rate, fortunately, the people around me now are, for the most part, not the type that I just described. I thought that before, when I worked in a parallel department, and even in this first week, they’ve given me more applicable evidence of the same.

And it appears that I’ll have plenty of chances to impress in the coming months, as the other person in my department announced a resignation mere days after I started. I was warned — suspicions were confirmed, I should say — that there are people in parallel departments that are waiting for me to misstep, to pounce and scream for my head. But that’s fine, because I’m in a different headset than I was a year ago, a better fitting job, and in the mood to disappoint my detractors.

Three’s a lot of change, all at once, and I can only hope that maybe this is my life jumping back onto the track that it’s supposed to be on. It’s worth the stress and the work and the adjustments to think that I’m headed in the right direction, wherever that may be leading me.

And then, of course, there’s the fucking tooth in my head that has decided, after months of semi-soreness and aggravation, to really cut loose and have an all-night kegger in my head. OHMYGODTHISREALLYFUCKINGHURTS. A few of my friends were kind enough to give me some industrial strength ibuprofin, but even that isn’t helping. Heat doesn’t work. Orajel is useless (except on my tongue, thanks). I don’t think I’m dealing with an abscess, as there’s no swelling, no bitter taste, no oozing pus (just to make sure you’re still awake and paying attention)… My best guess is that something in the air has triggered my sinusitis on a minor level — minor enough that I don’t feel the extra pressure in my head, but enough that the swelling is compounding the dental nightmare I’m having.

Ladies, if you’re looking for a man to pass strong teeth to your spawn through the miracle of genetics, then look elsewhere. For any number of reasons.

But if you want a man with more artifice than nature attached to the peridontal ligament (as well as someone who refuses to play nice with the English language): I’m your guy.

PHWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

I feel better now, thank you.

Everyone, please move along. Nothing to see here.

Asperger Syndrome or (Asperger’s Disorder) is a neurobiological disorder named for a Viennese physician, Hans Asperger, who in 1944 published a paper which described a pattern of behaviors in several young boys who had normal intelligence and language development, but who also exhibited autistic-like behaviors and marked deficiencies in social and communication skills. In spite of the publication of his paper in the 1940’s, it wasn’t until 1994 that Asperger Syndrome was added to the DSM IV and only in the past few years has AS been recognized by professionals and parents.

Individuals with AS can exhibit a variety of characteristics and the disorder can range from mild to severe. Persons with AS show marked deficiencies in social skills, have difficulties with transitions or changes and prefer sameness. They often have obsessive routines and may be preoccupied with a particular subject of interest. They have a great deal of difficulty reading nonverbal cues (body language) and very often the individual with AS has difficulty determining proper body space. Often overly sensitive to sounds, tastes, smells, and sights, the person with AS may prefer soft clothing, certain foods, and be bothered by sounds or lights no one else seems to hear or see. It’s important to remember that the person with AS perceives the world very differently. Therefore, many behaviors that seem odd or unusual are due to those neurological differences and not the result of intentional rudeness or bad behavior, and most certainly not the result of “improper parenting”.

By definition, those with AS have a normal IQ and many individuals (although not all), exhibit exceptional skill or talent in a specific area. Because of their high degree of functionality and their naivet�, those with AS are often viewed as eccentric or odd and can easily become victims of teasing and bullying. While language development seems, on the surface, normal, individuals with AS often have deficits in pragmatics and prosody. Vocabularies may be extraordinarily rich and some children sound like “little professors.” However, persons with AS can be extremely literal and have difficulty using language in a social context.

Barbara L Kirby, found here

I wish I could remember what my mom said the other day about me and autism in the same sentence — something about early signs, or genetics, or something.

My behavior when in a depression phase tends to highlight my less social side (no terrible surprise to anyone with depression). It’s not so much that I don’t want to or can’t be social; rather, I have a real issue with eye contact (which is a day-to-day thing for me anyway, I’ve come to realize recently), I stop reading body language as well as normal, and I really don’t want to be touched.

None of this is odd, or ever struck me as so, until my mom mentioned something about autism and me the other day. I’ve also been doing too much reading about the condition recently for a screenplay I’m writing; anyone that thinks med students won’t become self-diagnosing while they’re in school (and slightly paranoid, at that) just needs to watch one.

Can’t wait until my brother goes through graduate school for his PsyD.

Up at 6:30.

Wearing slacks and a damn belt.

This is not me. This is not me. This is not me.

You try really hard to convince yourself that it’s all okay, but underneath it all, you know it’s not. What is right for 95% of the rest of the world is not what I’m supposed to be doing. For better or for worse, it’s just not the way I’m built, and I have the hardest time accepting that. Part of me knows this, part of me just wants to have all the things that my other friends have or want.

It feels like I’ve jumped the track again, riding parallel to where I should be. Or maybe I just never got back to the right track, ever since 1998.

Those of you that have to be around me today: I apologize in advance.

Even one as blackened and crispy as mine.

Just finished a redesign of the AIDS Alabama website. Everyone go look and see. More blog-like than ever before….

Sexy, no? Not like Bettie Page sexy — more like a clean and refined thing.

Speaking of which, they finally fixed my shower. Looks like I’ll be needing a new tub; the plumber whistled when he accessed the pipes. I think he said something about having never seen so much lead…. But that would explain the lovely Hi-Pro glow that’s been missing from my hair since I started showering at my girlfriend’s….

Woof.

By which I mean, of course, NOT the MTV show. No, rather — not Dan, but the adverbial conjunction (yes, I made that up) — the working world of grown-ups and responsible people. And back at UAB, no less, under the working title of Web Designer.

So all you people who didn’t use me these past eight months, see: I have credentials.

And a salary and benefits, too.

So, Kenn, how do you feel about this?

Well, me, I haven’t entirely decided yet. Still sorting my thoughts on it, but my initial reaction is very Peter Pan, Toys’R’Us kid. I don’t want to grow up anymore, and I’ve really enjoyed the past few months of succeeding (albeit just barely) on my own merits.

But on the flip, I can’t wait to have a steady income again. So there’s that. And maybe returning to the 8-5 world will reinstill some of my hunger for success outside of it; it has crossed my mind — just today, in fact — that perhaps I was growing a little complacent in the face of self-employment.

But either way, at the end of the day, I’ve still got me. And my X-Box. So all will be well, one way or another.

And at least I’ll have more money to spend on X-Box games. And drinking, for when I become a miserable and discontent alcoholic, bitter at a world that beat me down.

Heh.

“I haven’t slept for ten days, because that would be too long.”
– Mitch Hedberg

Two commercials, back to back, making me wonder if some ad agency is stealing my humor:

Hardee’s, featuring a grown man suckling at the teat, proclaiming that it’s time to stop eating like a baby and start eating their Frisco Burger. Or something. I lost track after the grown head popped up from the woman’s chest.

And Playtex, where a woman uses a tampon to plug a hole in the rowboat. Now, I’m grown and twice-married, so I know what a tampon looks like, and how it works, and so forth, in FAR more detail than I should. But I don’t need to see it in action.

It could have been worse, I suppose. The boat could have been caught in a red tide…

Ad agencies of the world: HIRE ME. I’m the wave of the future, and I’m breaking on your shore.

ONE:

My brother and I are apparently living life in parallel.

Or, to quote him, in a non-Barry White voice: “Love is in the air.”

And I hope this embarasses him, at least a little.

TWO:

I just saw a bunch of elderly exercising, apparently a commercial for some step-class for older folks. And I know this is cruel, and karma will make sure I live to be 108 for thinking it (much less saying it in a public forum), but damn, that was ghoulish.

And funny. Ghoulish and funny go together well.

My brain hurts, and I’m going to hell.