Being a human being with excellent levels of pattern recognition, at this very moment in history, is not fuckin’ fun. It all feels very Cassandra Syndrome. And while I thought that referred to people who were seeing patterns in society and attempting to warn others about them, all to little or no effect, but apparently it’s some weird horse shit about people who are partnered with autistic people struggling to understand their means and methods (or lack there of) for emotional/relationship based communication.
Fuckin’ what? I understand it’s a spectrum and some lean more heavily towards an inability to mask well enough to glide under the radar, but really? That feels so infantilizing towards folks with autism.
See how well I can just swing from one line of thought to another. To me it looks like a clear path. Of course Googling some shit I had the wrong definition of is leading me to shit talk neurotypical people on this tiny piece of internet I’ve carved out for myself. But outwardly, that’s just some crazy, random shit.
I keep having the same realization, over and over. If I don’t write, in some way shape or form, if I don’t extract the shit inside my head and at least put it down on paper privately, if not display it in some pointless public sign post (like this site), I will go absolutely bonkers bat shit.
I’ve been thinking about poetry lately. I’ve been thinking about fiction too. I see a stupid news story or feel something slip passed the guarding cloud of smoke I keep myself marinating it and boom. My brain takes off like a race horse hearing that starting line shot. I can’t even stop the little fucker anymore. Is it creativity or maladaptive day dreaming? Does it matter?
It’s the weirdest thing. The last year has been one of the hardest of my life, but also the most centering. The most happy. Don’t get me wrong, there’s been some absolute crazy bullshit that’s occurred and consequently, I had to live through. But for the most part I don’t really have to think very hard about whether or not I’m happy. I just am or I’m not and if I’m not, I immediately try to pinpoint why and selfishly pluck that thing from my existence.
