Some Aspergers/Autists have no co-morbid conditions. Like the general population, many of us do. One of these is Bi-polar Disorder. As with so many disorders, I wonder how people survive being bipolar and how people survive living with a person with BPD. PBS sent a one-hour documentary about highly accomplished US individuals who are diagnosed as bipolar. Not all who struggle with this disease are able to be what society considers highly accomplished. Treatment is required for a person to live an average and healthy life.
Dispelling the myths surrounding the outdated concept of nature vs. nurture is part of the documentary Zeitgeist: Moving Forward from 2011. “I have watched humanity set the stage for its own extinction. I have watched as precious finite resources are perpetually wasted and destroyed in the name of profit and free markets. I have watched the social values of society be reduced into a base artificiality of materialism and mindless consumption. And I have watched at the monetary powers control the political structure of a supposedly free society.” (from 7:45)
I believe humans and animals are equal. Humans seem to have a strange relationship with animals. We may have pets in our homes being treated like royalty and the same breed in the barn being mistreated. Some people believe their pets are babies and should be treated as such. I think pets need to be treated according to the breed they are.
I review books. I have done so since April 2012. Where that idea came from is a puzzle. There is such a huge amount of review blogs, it seemed wasteful to add another. But the thought kept nagging. Choosing a platform (WordPress, obviously) was based on how comfortable I felt with the product. Some time was spent familiarizing myself with the how’s of blogging (not finished learning yet) and setting things up. humanitysdarkerside was set to go. Writing my first post was frightening.
Writing posts was/is a struggle for me. In the beginning I had absolutely no idea what reviewing books was about. Looking at other reviewers out there helped, but everything I tried felt unsatisfactory. Even so, I kept on slogging along hoping I would have an epiphany. No revelation for me, though. Instead a slow realization that my individual voice might be worth reading occurred. I hadn’t seen any ASD/Aspergers voices out there talking about fantasy/science fiction. They might exist, but I haven’t come across them. Until I started using my experience to talk about my books, humanitysdarkerside seemed to be in a no-woman’s-land.
Then I started writing a post about Zane Grey, and it kept on growing and growing and growing until it was much too long for a blog post. So I did what any sensible ASD would do and created another blog, this one called ZaneGreyandMe. It contains anything and everything I am able to dig up about the romances (later called Westerns) Zane Grey wrote. That is the kind of blog I did not know I dreamed about creating. But the work. Oh, the work. Along the way I have learned a great deal about Internet etiquette and copyright. I’m still having to go back and correct such mistakes.
Finally, I gave up on having Terry Pratchett on my regular blog. I am a fan of his stories. A true blue fan. Which is why I had so much about his writing on humanitysdarkerside. Instead I brought TerryPratchettandMe to life. Much as ZGM, TPM is a blog about Pratchett’s stories and the trivia seen from an ASD/Aspergers’ point of view. I’m pretty certain I have gone overboard with my blogging, but such is life.
Ambivalent is most likely the word that best describes my feelings towards writing. Getting thoughts out of my head and onto paper is a struggle every single time. What I start out writing is NEVER what I end up with. Sometimes the post changes completely. This one certainly has. But I need to write. Go figure. If anything, my admiration for serious authors has increased immensely. I have gotten to beta for a couple and being part of their thought process has been an honor.
One author claimed I was being too nice to her, but I did not feel I was. I just do not see any point in bashing a person who obviously had tried their best. Showing areas that need to improve does not have to be cruel. Sometimes I do not write about a book after a review request. If their writing is terrible or even gruesome (have had some of those), I send them a personal mail explaining why I could not write about the book on my blog.
Most of my reviews are on books I want to write about. I seldom receive requests, but read ALL the time. Perhaps that is my main reason for having three review blogs – my love of the written word.
By force, by fraud, by purchase, or by death.
Will change their lords, and pass to other hands.
Then since to none perpetual use is given.
And heir to heir, as wave to wave, succeeds,
How vain the pride of wealth I how vain the boast
Of fields, plantations, parks, and palaces.
If death invades alike, with ruthless arm.
The peasant’s cottage, and the regal tower,
Unawed by pomp, inflexible by gold!
Death comes to all. His cold and sapless hand
Waves o’er the world, and beckons us away.
Who shall resist the summons? Child of earth!
While yet the blood’ runs dancing through thy veins,
Impelled by joy and youth’s meridian heat,
‘Twere wise at times, to change the crowded haunts
Of human splendour, for the woodland realms
Of soUtude, and mark, with heedful ear.
The hollow voice of the autumnal wind.
That warns thee of thy own mortality.
Death comes to all. Not earth’s collected wealth.
Golcondian diamonds and Peruvian gold.
Can gain from him the respite of an hour.
He wrests his treasure from the miser’s grasp.
Dims the pale rose on beauty’s fading cheel’.
Tears the proud diadem from kingly brows.
And breaks the warrior’s adamantine shield.
Man yields to death; and man’s sublimest works
Must yield at length to Time. The proud one thinks
Of life’s uncertain tenure, and laments
His transitory greatness. While he boasts
His noble blood, from ancient kings derived.
And views with careless and disdainful eye
The humble and the poor, he shrinks in vain
From anxious thoughts, that teach his sickening heart
That he is like the beings he contemns,
The creature of an hour; that when a few,
Few years have past, that little spot of earth.
That dark and narrow bed, which all must press.
Will level all distinction. Then he bids
The marble structure rise, to guard awhile,
A little while, his fading memory.
Thou lord of thousands I Time is lord of thee:
Thy wealth, thy glory, and thy name are his.
And may protract the blow, but cannot bar
His certain course, nor shield his destined prey.
The wind and rain assail thy sumptuous domes:
They sink, and are forgotten. All that is
Must one day cease to be. The chiefs and kings,
That awe the nations with their pomp and power,
Shall slumber with the chiefs and kings of old:
And Time shall leave no monumental stone.
To tell the spot of their eternal rest.
The Poems of Thomas Love Peacock, ed. Brimley Johnson (London: George Routledge & Sons, 1906)
A friend sent me the link to the above kick-starter campaign for the publishing of this ABC by Ellie Sutton. I laughed when I saw the illustrations by Matt Page and had to check out his website. What I discovered was an artist with plenty of humor and strength. One of the pictures on his site managed to get to me. Exactly what it is about this acrylic painting called “Isolation” that affects me so strongly is difficult to say. Sometimes art does that.
Once upon a time I attended High School. English Literature was one of my classes. We were told to memorize something from The Tragedy of Hamlet and present it to the class. I chose this soliloquy by Hamlet. Even though I was not alone in reciting that day – and we got to stay at our desks – I was terrified. But I survived.
The feeling inside my mouth and head when I say the words out loud is amazing.
From: Act III, Scene 1: Elsinore. A room in the Castle.
- Hamlet. To be, or not to be- that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep-
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die- to sleep.
To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despis’d love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death-
The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns- puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.- Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins rememb’red.
In the grand scheme of cosmic justice, this beast fulfills a role complementary to its ordinary cousin. Whereas the traditional Harpy swoops from on high to torment the wicked, the Reverse Harpy seeks to reward the fair-to-decent, usually by dropping in uninvited with a home-cooked meal. Culinary opinions on the Reverse Harpy’s cooking are split. While their dishes display an undeniable flair for color, texture, and flavor, most diners find the regurgitated rabbit bones off-putting.
“If Jurassic Park Were In Different Geological Eras” – Let’s just be glad they chose the Jurassic period.”