the fine art of being hateful

all pix click to sources

I made my aspienado playlist public in a Pinky post on Halloween (Pinkyween) of this year. It has had only 7 videos this whole time. It jumped to the top of my playlists and took over analytics by over 40% in only 10 days, outranking all previous Lady GaGa, Benedict Cumberbatch, and fandom playlists I compiled that have been around a bit longer, some by months. (:edit: I forgot you guys can't see analytics breaking down allthethings. I have a pretty dead youtube channel nowadays, so that's actually not that lame, lol.)

~metaphorically~ is one of those posts I never really expected to see hit much. Some of my posts still only get 30 views in a week, or even a month. That one is lengthy and specifically targets social interaction from my point of view with Asperger's. It's enough that I struggle with other problems, which bore me to tears to write about most of the time, so I try very hard to keep myself focused on distraction. Once in awhile a depression-type post breaks through, and more rarely, a crabby dump post. I don't expect people to read my crap. My emotional junk is a real blight on this world if I don't strictly monitor it, and my bristling reactions to innocents get ridiculously stupid in a next morning walk of shame kind of way.

It seems a few of you coming across Pinky blog like being able to see what the world looks like from aspienado's point of view. In short, you all suck and I hate you, but you're all awesome and I love you more than bunnies and kitties. Yeah, it's a little odd in here. I make bipolar people look pretty normal, because I'm able to smash the extremes together into one big thing at the same time. I'm able to comfortably hold several conflicting views at once while I go about my day, and I can carry on more empathetic discussions about the kinds of cruelty that wilt TV viewers who really believe the crap about murder being what robs your soul of its innocence than about how was your day kind of stuff. Once you kill someone (or something), you can never go back, right? They made huge deals about it in the Xena ep Blood Innocence, and I've since heard this 'belief' in many other shows. I think it's stupid because true innocence is already lost to us when we strip other souls of their joy with our stupid mean words. Plenty of emotional murder is committed right and left with a few word stabs. You don't have to murder someone to ruin their day or their life.

I have grappled all my life with being nice. I live a duality on social media where everyone tells me how nice I am because they have no clue how mean I really am. I'm not mean because I enjoy it, I'm mean because I was born mean. When someone is mean, they inflict without remorse. Many people have suffered me inflicting beyond endurance. I finally learned remorse in 2007.

This is what Pinky blog is all about. In order to survive the lights coming on after years and years of emotional shutdown, I blew myself apart into pieces all over the internet, delegating this thought chore to one blog and that thought chore to another blog and so on, working slowly and meticulously (like an aspie) through decades of puzzles I'd shoved aside so I wouldn't have to deal with them. That gave me a way to look at the bits and pieces over time before I started emotional reconstruction over here on Pinky blog. I had no idea that's what I was doing.

I first revealed my Asperger's diagnosis in 2008. I jumped in and out of spoonie reveals until I committed to a spoonie blog in 2011. In 2012 I started pulling all my stuff together into a final reveal, and Pinky blog is the most open and personal I've ever been in my whole life. Except I've been learning not to dump my crap so much. That's kinda why ~metaphorically~ surprised me, it's one of my crap dumping posts. There's really no point to it except to admit I'm a turd and I hurt people. I see myself still hurting feelings out there and I just can't keep playing along and saying it's all cool when I'm having such hard days and it's not cool at all from my point of view. Doesn't mean anyone's bad or doing it wrong, it just means when I go down on epic fail days, I really don't wanna take you guys with me.

Capiche?

Lately, as I'm hitting higher and longer energy days and my brain lets me actually get rough and use it harder now, I'm hitting new kinds of shutdown/meltdown walls when my brain yanks the plugs back out and screams

ENUF! 

I've been told throughout both my childhood and adulthood by a few people not to be so hateful. What does that even mean? I can see other people all around me being hateful, and no one telling them not to be. What is the difference between me being hateful and other people being hateful? Why do some people feel compelled to point out to me how I'm behaving and/or even walk away from me forever while they pat other hateful people on their heads and go have lunch with them?

The difference is that other people generally have another layer underneath their hostile dumpisodes, and I don't. They snap out of it, I don't. They process and move on, I don't. If I'm being hateful, I actually mean it, never realizing I'm sending waves of nuclear melt through other people's souls until they just can't take me any more. I don't mean the kind of yelling and ranting that you imagine, but the one line remarks here and there that make Darth Vadar look like he at least owns a few kitty cats. I'm able to say things in such a way that people not only believe but feel the venom, even if I don't know I'm exuding it. It's not so much that I'm toxic, but that I'm utterly truthful without the cushion of kindness. Kindness is something I've spent many years learning.

Nowadays there are all kinds of ways to cute it up. Thanks to memes and crack!vids and fandom smashing and allthefeels and yes, even lolcats, I am able to put cushioning in what otherwise seem like hard, unforgiving, on the edge of ranty posts. I still wrestle with how to express my thoughts in nicer ways, and those definitely help.

This is a big deal because I had no idea what I looked and sounded like for a very long time until I learned how to step out and see myself. Part of seeing outside myself is seeing through other people's eyes on youtube, why this music is matched with that character in this situation or this intent, etc., or rereading something I wrote 5 years ago and wondering how I myself missed what I was conveying, because I can see it so differently now. Interacting with people through a keyboard does NOT help me see myself. If anything, it actually makes it worse. I can't keep up the energy that goes into pretending I can follow and carry a convo, and it doesn't take long until someone has a problem with me not interacting right. And I really don't, there's no helping it.

I try the patience of saints. Actually, very few saints tolerate me for very long at all, they're usually the first to scatter. I attract the fringes, full of weird and baditude and miscreant humor, and as people like that usually tolerate me longer, I probably wind up looking like that's what I prefer, and let's just stop this paragraph before aspienado goes into analysis.

Anyway, I'm just surprised. I can take you guys into some neat places in my head, I can bore you half to death with dumb obsessions, but one thing I'll never do is join the chant rants taking sides on politics and religion and sports and fandoms and whatevs, because I know I have the skillz to instigate to riot and wielding that kind of power for fun and sport isn't cool, plus way too many people are doing it. Pinky does not approve. So I quietly put my life on the internet and drag a few readers around with me through everything I do, instead.

Aspienado wants to break the world. Pinky wants nachos. Guess which one wins right now.

see what I did there

Had a good talk yesterday with someone who's known me a very long time about how something has changed this year. My attitude? My focus? My emotional health? I'm dealing with stuff left and right and aspienado is starting to blow for realz.

So it's not just me. Something's really changing. After all the stuff I've been through, I'm going to point at more brain healing. The brain is nerve central, and I've been living with a nervous system disorder most of my life that complicated into years of nasty, sticky, foggy mess during one illness after another hitting my already compromised nervous system.

This is the year I'm turning the big corner. This is the year I really get my brain back. And I'm going to do everything in my power to keep it that way.

Part of my years-long blogging has included miles of encryptions. No one's ever sure who or what I'm really talking about, even the people closest to me. It's all a big, long tapestry of words scattered across space and time that don't have a lot of impact except to those who've known me well enough to guess. When I go back through some of that, I see what I was doing, but at the time, I was messed up, drifting through a fog so think I could barely see my own hands typing in front of my face (metaphorically). (I think my biggest frustration as a writer is trying to convey visual concepts as metaphors, like an artist would, but through words that are sometimes misunderstood as more literal. I'm a literalist myself, but some of my coolest thoughts have blazed to light through imagery.)

But put the scattered strings together, and all new meanings blaze out. Today for #wwwblogs I tweeted links to-
my life as a dangling participle
the emotional value of virtual worth
and bio nazi.

When I write, it kind of looks like I know what I'm doing. Sort of. Can you imagine a painter putting on a blindfold first? Not knowing how the strokes will look all together once the blindfold is off? That's how my blogging has been for me. My memory problems have been so bad that I forget I've written this or that, and when I go back it looks like I knew what I was doing. My blogging over the past year almost looks like a series of planned reveals, but they're not. I fondly call my style 'live blogging', where the reader gets real time real stuff along with me.

And then what you guys don't see is how I put this all back together, by following the trails readers leave through my stats. They seem to go in directions back through old stuff, and I follow to see what they saw, imagining a fresh set of eyes. I'm often surprised at the trails not seeming at all haphazard after the way I've haphazardly patched my blogs together over several months and years.

Faith in the dark is a big thing with me. Some researchers think that synchronicity is a brain thing, some step out and insist it's more. All I know is, accidents, interruptions, and surprises have rarely misled me, and that trying to close myself off from the things that pull me away from my goals tend to make me a lesser person. I keep thinking how glad I am that I got knocked and bounced off my self-scheduled time table over and over. I'm seeing way too much improvement to believe I could have been ready at all before this year and that up till now has been a frustrating waste of my time.

I am my own causal connection, linking my own meaning through time and space, etching "I was here" on the walls of reality, which, in its most basic term, is other people's consciousnesses.

Many years ago I told a guy (a brilliant mathematician, actually) that I don't need to hope for something in my future because it's already there. I just haven't arrived to that spot yet. I believe it is already there. I don't work because I hope, I work because I believe everything I'm doing is taking me there. I work for the joy of work. It's been hard, but since when have I not loved a good challenge? I can't imagine how utterly bored I'd have been if I hadn't had all this junk in my life to figure out like a great big puzzle.

But what is it I'm seeing in my future? I've always seen it. If I live to reach it, I know it will be really cool. But what is cool? For me- that last move before the big checkmate. That last brilliant move that floors the opponent because it was so unexpected. That last dance step with the rapier for the thousandth cut. That last big reveal of an unseen strategy.

I have embraced this all my life. The world is my stage, the pieces have been set, I continue weaving my way in and out, and maybe soon Pinky will

stop being redundant.

I know, it's all out there and I'm just saying it again. Sorry, got a little carried away again with the morning discipline thing. I'm ignoring a cold and grappling with a slight time orientation smash since I suddenly dealt with a big load of stuff last couple of weeks.

So let's wildly distract ourselves, shall we? Might be a little naughty. And hard on the eyes, maybe a precaution if you're easily triggered for seizures. Probably NSFW.

Doctor Brony

Thought it was really cool how the underlying theme in this whole last season of Doctor Who is about how we lie to our loved ones. Everything right up to the end of last night's ep was a play on how well we know each other by the way we lie. In case you're not a fan, this is Danny Pink, a character name I have enjoyed immensely.

Regeneration is a fun thing to think about, like reincarnation without having to let go of all your current relationships. I think in some ways we're already practicing this.

I was imagining what it would be like to regenerate as a dog or a horse and just discovered Doctor Whooves is a thing.

For reals. Seriously. Click this.

Too bad it's out of stock.

Why yes, Capaldi Who has been bronied. So glad you asked. And then I ran into the owls...

Pulling myself back to here and now. I've been working on this for a couple of hours between burrito and making an apple pie. We've been pretty busy.

This will forever change you.

pinky rainbows and kittens and unicorns

New blog home, yay! Feels like a Ferrari. This is a continuation of my personal blog on Xanga, which sadly doesn't support mobile viewing yet.

I'm still fussing over the font. I could manually input html, or I could attempt to CSS override, or I could settle down and accept change after ten years of my fave font. Crowded fonts crowd my visual processing, I feel like I'm in bottlenecked traffic if my eyes don't slide easily over the font. I know several people who mock Comic Sans, I don't get why.

Hit 103 at my house yesterday, and that wasn't counting 'real feel' and heat index. Maybe both of those are the same thing. My chickens have eaten a whole watermelon this week. What can you do? We discovered kittywigs.com to keep ourselves amused.

I was a really bad girl yesterday. I've been doing so well lately, and utterly worn out with round the clock antihistamines, so I've been taking longer and longer breaks if I'm just hanging around the house. So I hadn't had anything yesterday. And I suddenly spelunked into a whole load of something I hadn't eaten in a long time. And there it was, airway probs, slamming benadryl, driving myself to a clinic, they pushed intravenous steroid and more benadryl, and I wobbled home as wasted as if I'd had a handful of xanax. And then I was up from midnight to about 4 this morning, and I'm still whizzing around like an amazon delivery drone. Not terribly conducive to sitting around watching the Doctor Who marathon. You know how Eleven couldn't sit still in The Power of Three? That's me this weekend. About 2:30 in this is me.