MARDOM
May 15, 2011, 1:43 PM
Hello.
Let me get two things out of the way first -
1) I'm dyslexic, which accounts for the stiff, formal tone of my writing, and,
2) I'm autistic, which makes communication so difficult that it can't be other than a nightmare. People come to all sorts of conclusions about me that are untrue. I am not crazy. I am not dangerous. I am not stupid. I am not a snob. I am not unfriendly - just painfully shy ... I can't help that; it's very hard to be other than shy when you cannot read body language and do not understand vocal inflections. The only way that I can tell whether somebody likes or dislikes me is if he/she comes right out and says so. As you can imagine - I hope you can imagine - I'm not terribly lucky in the friends department, never mind the lovers department (I've pretty much given up on that side of things, but it would be nice to make some friends.)
Now, I am mentally ill. I'll be right up front about that. On top of the autism - perhaps mostly due to it - I've got Major Depression (aka "unipolar depression") And, yes, I'm considered disabled. For now, anyway.
That said, I'm intelligent, well-read for somebody who cannot function in school (I'm almost entirely self-educated), and I have a good sense of humor (so long as the humor is darker in tone and tends toward the absurd or farcical. For instance, one of my favorite movies is "Harold and Maud.")
Monday to Friday, I go to what is politely called a "day treatment center." Really, it's an asylum that keeps old-style bankers' hours, 9 to 3. I rather like it; it's better than sitting in my room all day, wondering what to do w/myself ...
Presently, I live in a "residential healthcare facility" - which is a euphemism for "minimum security madhouse." At least the local "undocumented workers" are not full of it; they call our "RHCF" "la casa de los locos." And that comes in handy - I mean, we don't get mugged, mothers cross the street w/their small children when they see us coming, so nobody bothers us to donate to the gymnastics squad; and shopkeepers are very quick to serve us and get us on our way. Hell - even the panhandlers leave us alone! ... Although, my friend Michael and I do have fun now and then panhandling ourselves - it upsets people, and they just toss money at us. We alternate that with making crank appearances down at Social Services. "Good morning. I want you to speak to my room mate ... I just can't do it myself ... He keeps me up all night with his masturbating. I can't get any sleep." Of course, the room mate is a few windows over lodging the very same complaint about me ... Well, you need something when you're officially crazy! What can "they" do to us - put us away?;)
Well - I've rambled on ... I would put a picture of myself up, but everything is in boxes right now. Things are looking up! I'm moving from the RHCF - with its pill times and bed times and meal times - to a much more independent arrangement - my own room with a TV and computer hook up. For somebody who's been homeless several times, well, that's palatial! I'll have a refrigerator - and some place to pretend to cook! And nobody will complain about the strange things I collect and keep sitting in piles (ugly neckties, for instance) ... They say I'm not ugly. I don't know. You'll be able to judge once I get settled and can get a picture out to post - that is, if we can put up pictures of ourselves ...
Home stretch - like most folks w/Asperger's, I've got a fixed range of genuine interests: mathematics, symbolic logic, dead languages, classical music, theoretical astronomy/cosmology, houseplants, crossword puzzles, abstract art and photography, dogs, buzzards, smoking, coffee, collecting junk, and pornography - I'll not lie! I'm really, really interested in sex, dammit! ... Everything else - well, I can pretend to be interested in it if necessary - I mean, people are so sensitive! "Oh, I don't like baseball" - might as well have said that I was in love Osama bin Laden!
Well, anyway, that's enough for now.
Oh, yes, the name is Mark. That's what I like to be called ... Thank you to anyone who bothered to read all of this - I won't!
Let me get two things out of the way first -
1) I'm dyslexic, which accounts for the stiff, formal tone of my writing, and,
2) I'm autistic, which makes communication so difficult that it can't be other than a nightmare. People come to all sorts of conclusions about me that are untrue. I am not crazy. I am not dangerous. I am not stupid. I am not a snob. I am not unfriendly - just painfully shy ... I can't help that; it's very hard to be other than shy when you cannot read body language and do not understand vocal inflections. The only way that I can tell whether somebody likes or dislikes me is if he/she comes right out and says so. As you can imagine - I hope you can imagine - I'm not terribly lucky in the friends department, never mind the lovers department (I've pretty much given up on that side of things, but it would be nice to make some friends.)
Now, I am mentally ill. I'll be right up front about that. On top of the autism - perhaps mostly due to it - I've got Major Depression (aka "unipolar depression") And, yes, I'm considered disabled. For now, anyway.
That said, I'm intelligent, well-read for somebody who cannot function in school (I'm almost entirely self-educated), and I have a good sense of humor (so long as the humor is darker in tone and tends toward the absurd or farcical. For instance, one of my favorite movies is "Harold and Maud.")
Monday to Friday, I go to what is politely called a "day treatment center." Really, it's an asylum that keeps old-style bankers' hours, 9 to 3. I rather like it; it's better than sitting in my room all day, wondering what to do w/myself ...
Presently, I live in a "residential healthcare facility" - which is a euphemism for "minimum security madhouse." At least the local "undocumented workers" are not full of it; they call our "RHCF" "la casa de los locos." And that comes in handy - I mean, we don't get mugged, mothers cross the street w/their small children when they see us coming, so nobody bothers us to donate to the gymnastics squad; and shopkeepers are very quick to serve us and get us on our way. Hell - even the panhandlers leave us alone! ... Although, my friend Michael and I do have fun now and then panhandling ourselves - it upsets people, and they just toss money at us. We alternate that with making crank appearances down at Social Services. "Good morning. I want you to speak to my room mate ... I just can't do it myself ... He keeps me up all night with his masturbating. I can't get any sleep." Of course, the room mate is a few windows over lodging the very same complaint about me ... Well, you need something when you're officially crazy! What can "they" do to us - put us away?;)
Well - I've rambled on ... I would put a picture of myself up, but everything is in boxes right now. Things are looking up! I'm moving from the RHCF - with its pill times and bed times and meal times - to a much more independent arrangement - my own room with a TV and computer hook up. For somebody who's been homeless several times, well, that's palatial! I'll have a refrigerator - and some place to pretend to cook! And nobody will complain about the strange things I collect and keep sitting in piles (ugly neckties, for instance) ... They say I'm not ugly. I don't know. You'll be able to judge once I get settled and can get a picture out to post - that is, if we can put up pictures of ourselves ...
Home stretch - like most folks w/Asperger's, I've got a fixed range of genuine interests: mathematics, symbolic logic, dead languages, classical music, theoretical astronomy/cosmology, houseplants, crossword puzzles, abstract art and photography, dogs, buzzards, smoking, coffee, collecting junk, and pornography - I'll not lie! I'm really, really interested in sex, dammit! ... Everything else - well, I can pretend to be interested in it if necessary - I mean, people are so sensitive! "Oh, I don't like baseball" - might as well have said that I was in love Osama bin Laden!
Well, anyway, that's enough for now.
Oh, yes, the name is Mark. That's what I like to be called ... Thank you to anyone who bothered to read all of this - I won't!