All Night Skate, Lizard Tongues, And Tackle Boxes
written by, M.L.L. aka. Tom Sawyer
This story consists of all the topics I listed in the title of this essay.
In the year of 1990, I was in middle school, 8th grade to be exact. I lived in rural Texas. Activities under the “rad” menu, were few and far between. The only thing we had that was well…rad, was the rollerskating rink on the otherside of town. A huge megaplex of glossy hardwood floors and terrible snack food. I’d frequented this place all throughout childhood, but I’d never been allowed to go to the “all night skate lock-in.”
The lock-in was for kids with parents that let them watch movies like, “Pretty Woman” and “Dirty Dancing.” None of which I saw until my adult life. On a side note, I was allowed to watch horror films with my mother and brother..i.e. “Hellraiser.”
I have no idea what relevance that has to this story, but take it for what you think it means? Again, that was a side note tid-bit.
So, where was I? Oh, right. The lock-in stuff…
This girl who lived on the street ½ of a mile from me was one of those kids that couldn’t wait to be grown up and make-out with dudes. I was the opposite. I thought the whole idea was rancid. Dudes were my homies and not to be making out with…but nobody was in the “make-out” category. I simply didn’t think about it. This bothered my friend severely. She couldn’t wrap her mind around why I wasn’t practicing french kissing on my GI Joe dolls… because she was totally doing that all-the-time.
It was the summer before 8th grade when I was finally brave enough to ask permission to go to the…(drum roll please) ALL NIGHT SKATE!!!!! To my surprise, my family agreed to let me go providing I would call from the pay phone and check in with them from time to time. I was so excited.
The preparation for this event was a huge deal to my friend. She told me to bike to her house about 2 hours ahead of time so we could get “fixed up with makeup.”
Uhm………? Make-up you speak? Uhm……? No?!
My physical appearance was the last thing on my priority list. I was a fat kid, had huge rabbit-like teeth, a horrendous lisp, covered in freckles, and I spoke of science.
Yet, being naïve and gullable, I showed up with full expectation of being “made up all pretty-like.” I arrive at my friend’s house and she immediately wisks me away into her room for the big makeover. One hour later, I’m covered in pink and feelin’ like an asshole.
My friend’s mother drops us off at the skating rink. We have our sleeping bags, granola bars(totally not my idea), and about $40.00 between us. Life was kickin’ ass.
After paying to get inside, without hesitation I raced to the skate rental center. My friend ran up beside me and said, “No, not yet. We need to hang out first and just see who’s here.” I refused and said, “ I’m going to get my skates now because I want the speed skates.” Nerd am I.
About one hour later, the whole lot of ‘em starts to show. All the pre-teen nightmarish kids within a 15 mile radius. (*see rural Texas fun, above*)
That night, I think out of the 12 hours of “all night skating” potential, I probably skated about 10 of those hours. I was there to skate, right? Wrong. In the 2 hours of not skating, it was because this friend of mine convinced me to hang out with her and her new boyfriend??? When did she get a boyfriend? She got the boyfriend in the previous 10 hours that I was skating with the other nerds, and the usual 50 year old backward skating dude…. THAT guy has been in all skating rinks from here to Venice, California. I swear it’s the same guy! Early 50’s, ill-fitting jeans, very thin and lanky, and he shares in the ambition of ACTUALLY SKATING for 10+ hours.
My friend’s new boyfriend of 10 hours was named Derrick. He was a douchebag. He had that look on his face that let everyone know that he was the hot shit ticket to be sitting around. When my friend introduced me to him, I knew that it would take street credibility off of her feigned persona at this event. I will still never figure out why she didn’t see that coming? I saw it coming! I sat down on the ground and my friend asked Derrick if he had any other friends who might be interested in me. (upload uproar of laughter now)
The answer to that? A very big NOOOOO. I honestly didn’t care and was relieved that I didn’t have to talk to douchebags douchier friends. My friend at one point started making out with this Derrick guy. It was all tongue, all the time. Full tongue action with slobber.
To this, I felt as though I was turning into a mixture of: The Invisible Woman & The Hulk. I was pissed off. Mainly because I didn’t see the point to my cessation from skating! Why did I stop skating again? Oh, right. So I could watch you two slobber and cram your tongues down each other’s throats. Nice.
Her 10 hour relationship jumpstart ended abruptly the next day.
Three weeks later…
Another lock in at the skating rink was in full swing. I made it very clear that I would indeed be skating for the full 12 hours, sans watching the lizard tongue action.
She complied to my wishes, and chose to passive aggressively ignore me the entire night. I don’t think she put on a pair of skates ONE time in those 2 lock-in nights. Lame.
She met some dude named Justin. He was in 9th grade, an “older man” for us measely 8th grade gals. He seemed pretty damn cool though? I rolled off the rink and got some shitty nachos with food poisoning sauce and sat down. They eventually joined me. Justin had a friend named Sloan, also a 9th grader. They were not douchebags, but something wasn’t totally rad about them. Sloan seemed to actually like me? So immediately I doubted his credibility. I thought, “yeah right. Do you not know who I am? I’m Mel, THE SUPER DORK!” But whatever, he thought I was cute? Weird. (trust me, I wasn’t cute then, and it’s not me being critical of myself… I really wasn’t cute.)
After the lock-in, we all exchanged numbers. Wow, a guy wants to call me? Crazy shit!
Later on in the week, my friend, Justin, and Sloan, decided that we should all go out to the mall. A huge trek into the great beyond… THE CITY. My friend’s mother dropped us off at the mall and said she’d pick us up at 8pm. Across from this mall was a Walmart.
For some lame ass reason we thought it would be cool to go over there? I’ll never remember why exactly, but we did and that was the downfall of the night in my world.
We go into Walmart and Justin and my friend split off in an entirely different direction. She gave me that chick look that says, “I’m going with my boyfriend to a secluded aisle to suck face.” Lame.
Sloan assured me it as cool that they were splitting off, and then he grabbed my hand and started making way toward the sporting goods section. I was freaked out already. I didn’t want to hold his hand, and I didn’t think we were going to the sporting goods area to look at flashlights, so what was the point?
He kept nervously laughing and saying over and over again, “It’s okay Mel, it’s okay. Trust me, you’ll like this.” SCARY!
Eventually we were on the aisle with the fishing equipment, bait, tackle boxes, and other various things one would buy if going on a fishing trip…including live bait that was packaged nicely in a see-thru tacklebox. All I remember was Sloan grabbing my shoulder and turning me toward him and then cramming his large slobbery tongue down my throat in a manic fashion. He was holding my face too. I was making a fuss about this and he let me go and I said, “What are you doing?” He said, “you haven’t french kissed before?” I plainly stated that I hadn’t and why would I want to! He grabbed my face again and all I remember was seeing the earthworms squirming around in the clear tacklebox to my left. I felt nauseated and Sloan’s tongue cramming was getting increasingly disgusting by the second. I couldn’t take it any more and I broke off from him, stood back about 8 feet and said, “Dude, no way man. No way. French kissing is the nastiest thing I’ve ever felt in my life. I’m not doing that with you again.”
After that, you’d think most young guys would be so embarrassed that they’d call it a night and we’d call our parents and that would be that, right? Wrong. The hormones of most normal 8th-12th grade people are at a critical level. Not mine however. I had no hormones, not yet anyway. (late bloomer) He comes at me again with his lizard tongue and crap pincher hands and before getting anywhere close to my face, his tongue was out and wriggling around…like the worms in the box. ICK! I pushed him with full force and off he went into the barrel of fishing poles. I pointed a finger at his face and said, “I don’t want to FRENCH KISS YOU FOR THE LAST TIME!!!!!!” I said that so loud that the manager of the sporting goods section came over and asked what the problem was.
I stated that Sloan had tried to cram his tongue down my throat one too many times.
The manager laughed and said, “why don’t you two call your parents and get them to pick you up, okay?”
That was A-OKAY by me! Great! Let’s go now!
I briskly walked that whole thing off, and found April and Justin in the automotive area, totally making mouth noises and cramming tongues. I pulled them apart physically and said, “I’m done with this retarded night, I want to go home, this sucks ass.”
She was really upset with me needless to say. But as we were walking out, her boyfriend Justin said, “Mel, come here… thank you for doing that. I wasn’t into that at all. She was grossing me out dude.”
I asked him why and we basically lived the same night of lizard tongue cramming slobber mouth kisses. Terrifying.
To this very day, that was a defining moment in my life. I chose to stop something that I thought was gnarly-nasty and I think it set the tone for who I was as a person. I think Justin would probably say the same if he were questioned. It goes to show that not all adolescents are the same geno-type. Not all of us were ruled by our hormonal impulses, but some of us were.
In closing, I found out that my friend got married at the age of 17, has 5 children, and I’m not real sure if they are all from the same guy? I don’t know what happened to Sloan, but I’m sure he used Rufies in someone’s drink at some stage? I don’t know… but damn, he didn’t know how to respond when he was told, “NO! YOU’RE SICK!”
So….I’m just sayin’... middle school sucked, all-night-skates are fun if you skate, and french kissing is highly overrated at 12 years old.
Thanks for reading.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Autism, X-Men, and Fear Driven Ribbon Wearers.
Recently,
I started hearing more and more about Autism in the media. I don’t know whether to think this is a good thing, or a bad thing?
I listen as stories are being, “shared,” on television regarding a person’s “fight against such n’ such disease.” They rally saying, “Find A Cure!” I'm sure a ribbon will soon follow this war cry. Ribbons hold power I guess?
The definition of disease is: illness.
I’m extremely tired of catch phrases like, “Fighting _____ disease.” You don’t fight with a disease. To use such imagery implies that it is larger than you.
“What we emotionally focus on is what we manifest.” –Dr. Joseph Murphy
My inspiration for writing this is due to our obsession with problems, specifically diseases. I venture to say that we actually like, or worse, enjoy our problems. They give us a sense of purpose, spawning a fight of: The People vs. the problems. We set up organizations that obtain our money to “fight”, we run 5k events to “fight”, and we inject an unnessessary fear within ourselves.
I have a particular beef with the latest “fight” on the top of the priority list; The Fight Against Autism. (cue the sounds of gun battle here, please)
Autism isn’t a disease by definition. It isn’t an illness. It is however, a neuroligical difference between a “normal brain” and an “abnormal brain,” as defined by doctors who aren’t inside the mind of an autistic person but desperately want to understand it. I don’t think all doctors have the same motivation.
In life, we have various professions in which specific personalities have contrasting motives. Some lawyers are good, some are bad. Some police are noble, some are corrupt. The Macro represents the Micro in all systems. I’m sure most medical professionals are genuinely interested in understanding Autism, but among the professionals are the self-proclaimed experts. You may be thinking that I am one of those self-proclaimed people, but I assure you, I am no where near being an expert on Autism. I just happen be Autistic, and like you, am capable of forming an opinion on various subjects, this one being no different, just a little “closer to home.”
My story: I was orphaned at birth, eventually adopted by a blue-collar family in Texas. In my adoption papers, the box was checked that specified “Autism,” in my file. My ignorant(I say that with kindness) family who wouldn’t take the time to figure out what that meant due to being overly anxious to have a child to love, more than a problem to fix. They never probed what the term, “Autism,” meant for them, likewise for my own development. I believe this was to my benefit.
When I started being steeped into social environments, I knew that I was different from everyone, almost instantly. I don’t believe that the other kids knew why I was different, but perhaps the subconscious energy I was emitting was off-putting to my peers? I wouldn’t conform to groups, clicks, or go along with social niceties. I wouldn’t find any answers to my oddities until much later in life. I wasn’t a snuggler, a hugger, or affectionate by definition. I didn’t look people in the eyes; instead, I intensely watched their mouths when they spoke. I was coined as being, “self-conscious and weird, “ or “depressed.” I was anything but! I was happy, proud, had a very healthy ego(still do sadly), and I felt that nothing was impossible for me. There were NO limitations in my own mind, to me. Yet, I displayed a huge amount of limitation when it came to relating to others, reading, writing, and following instructions in exam settings, homework, or sport. I’d become irritable at times, but usually when I was misunderstood, judged too harshly, or underestimated.
I had certain attributes that I was amazingly good at. Conversely, there were other activities I was flat-out terrible at. Physical things came easily, mechanical things were facinating, math was fun, music was thrilling, performing and being the center of entertainment was the reason I woke up in the morning.
What I feared being a part of: Going to movies with friends, role-playing games, board games, slumber parties, textures of certain fabrics, change in routine, english class, group sports, playing with dolls, loud shrill noises in certain environments, large crowds surrounding me, and other things related to the above. Oh, and playing 3-Dimensional video games isn't fun for me. Yet, hilarious for those watching me play and laughing at me as I get hung up on a pixel for 3.4 minutes. One day I will OWN my friends in Halo, but until that day...I'll suck at it.
I embraced my weirdness. I thought it was, “who I was,” and that was fine by me. My oddness was a-okay with my family as well. They too are a tad odd, so it was par for the course.
In my adult life, I have many friends ranging in age, race, social background, etc.. all of them are aware of my eccentric neurotic ways... they love it because it constantly keeps them guessing, guessing whether or not I'll snap. Just kidding, no really, I won't snap unless you blow an airhorn in my right ear. Then, I'll snap, and how!
My career choices are based soley on what I enjoy doing, and what I’m confident in. I had the unique benefit of having the things I was interested in, or showed talent in, nurtured and supported by my family, mentors, and friends.
The “norm” has always scared me. Extraordinary people throughout history were violently opposed by “the norm,” and had to have full confidence in their unusual ideas and motives. If those people hadn’t existed, we wouldn’t have cars, airplanes, wireless technology, computers, movies, musical genres, fashion, medicines, the use of electricity, government, etc… but someone in “the norm,” took a risk and listened to their insane idea and it gained credibility. That is the power that we as people have.
My point with all this? The term “Autism” is a giant blanket term that encompasses a lot more than a problem that needs to be fixed. I’d like to educate you all on a few things about this ‘Autism thing’. For one, the average IQ of most “normal” people, is actually below what the normal average IQ is of someone with Asperger’s Syndrome. A regression in social behavior is to blame for this “find a cure” mantra in social circles right now, regarding Autism. It’s fact the Autistic brain is wired differently than the normal brain of most people. That hard-wiring isn’t necessarily a bad thing! It’s all in how you look at it, which is the battle cry of someone with Autism.
The non-autistic brain vs. an autistic brain, is like comparing a car engine to a motorcycle engine. Both are fundamentally the same, yet they are operated with entirely different techniques & rules. If you drove a motorcycle with the same technique as a car, you’d crash in a matter of minutes.
If I drove a car with the same technique as a motorcycle, I’d be exerting a great deal of energy for nothing, and it wouldn’t get me anywhere, any faster.
The Autistic brain, in MY opinion, is like a complex lock. Once you crack the code, you can open up the Pandora’s box of ideas, talents, and magic. What cracks the code isn’t a specialized school or a therapy that focuses on the problems or calls it a disease. It is certainly not the attitude of fighting for a cure that will crack the code! The code is cracked by paying attention to what interests these unusually wonderful children, and then allowing them to delve into their facinations will full support by those around them.
I’ve often thought of my own mind as being overly objective. I believe that Autism is the disorder of objectivity. Have you ever been in a weird place, new place, or situation in which you feel like an outsider looking into a world you know nothing about, yet you SEE it objectively? Simular to people-watching in an airport, restaurant, mall, etc…
You see everything, but you don’t feel like you are in it. It doesn’t in otherwords, affect you negatively or positively. It just IS what it is.
If you can understand that, you can understand what it is like to be inside the head of an Autistic person.
If people on the “outside” are constantly wanting you to conform to their way of communicating, or being, in gross levels, wouldn’t it be natural for anyone to want to shut down socially? Especially if your hard-wiring suggests that you aren’t going to be good at conforming to what they are naturally good at. You aren’t being listened to anyway, so why try anymore? Right?
This is the reason, I believe, that autistic kids shut down and stop talking. You would to if everyone kept crying about how you don't "hug them enough." The thought of "hugging" someone just doesn't factor into what the Autistic kid is thinking about! I wasn't thinking about hugging anyone. I was thinking about how many tiles were on the ceiling, how I could convert my treehouse into an observatory...oh, and convincing all the boys in the neighborhood that I was a legitimate ninja. Hugging? Snuggling? Never thought of it until highschool, and only because multiple people kept hugging me when they saw me. I had no idea what to do in that situation, so I hugged back...
Let me share with you a real story that I had the priveledge of being a part of, and one that I think will drive the plot of this blog a bit further.
In December of 2006, I was working at a very well known children’s theatre in Dallas, Texas as a puppeteer. A family came into the theatre to purchase tickets for the holiday show. A mother, father, and their son. The boy was playing with a Tie Fighter toy from the wonderful, “Star Wars” movies. He was really, really, into that toy. They purchased tickets from me, and I began talking to the boy, who was around 8 years old, about his awesome toy.
I said, “Don’t you wish we had real Tie Fighters?! I think it’s possible to have them, maybe we should put our heads together and figure that out, huh? Do you think they work on a gravitational force field or strickly a magnetic shield that keeps them propelled back to the Deathstar?”
He very matter-of-factly said, “Well, actually I think magentic energy is probably how they return to the Deathstar, but what drives them forward, well..I’m still working on that theory.”
This boy’s mother began weeping. I was taken aback by it and thought, “Oh wow, did I do something wrong?, “What is going on here?”
She pulled herself together long enough to say the following, “How did you do that? We’ve never heard him speak, nobody has! Who are you? How did you do that?”
I knew the reality of what was going on right away. The father chimes in, and he, being just as emotionally shaken as she was said, “He has Autism. We’ve tried everything to get him to talk to us.”
The mother kept asking me how I managed to get her son to speak.
The secret I was keeping for years in my personal & professional worlds, was about to be out in the open. I was half-way scared of talking openly about Autism. Afraid that those who I professionally worked with would hear me and I’d be treated as sub-standard or incompetent thereafter. I knew in my gut that I had to be open about it for the sake of people like this family, and moreso, this child.
I said, “Well Maam, I didn’t know he had Autism. I don’t think anyone would know that by looking at him. What would you think if I told you that I have Autism?”
She chuckled and said, “yeah, but it’s clear you don’t have autism.”
I said, “Is it?”
I went on to tell her that I am Autistic, and the reason her son spoke to me wasn’t because I’m a fellow Autistic person, but because it was obvious to him that I cared about his interests --that he was really thinking about his spaceship toy and seemed to be playing with it as though he was analysing how it worked. I told his mother this, but then I said, “I didn’t think he was strange, he gave me the impression that he was a really brainy kid who was into science.”
As this conversation was going on, her son was beginning to look at the stage lighting, set pieces, etc… I went up to him and said, “Hi, My name is Mel. Since you like building stuff, would you like to watch the show from backstage? I could show you how the lighting board works?”
He lit up with excitement and ran up to his mother and for the first time spoke to her, “Mom, can I watch backstage with Mel?”
He remembered my name, knew to ask his mother for permission, and seemed to behave as though he’d asked her a hundred times for permission to do things.
Of course she accepted, but then I watched as the very natural fear took hold of her. She said, “can I go back there with you to make sure you are okay.” What followed was a fit of rage; screaming, holding and pulling his head/hair, and abusing himself. I stepped in and said, he’ll be fine. I looked at him and said, “Yo, dude, you’ll be fine right? Right. So let’s go!” He stopped instantly in his rage and seemed to snap back into the moment and said, “yeah, I want to see the light board.”
To sum this story up, I still keep intouch with this family. I found out that the family had spent over 20,000 dollars in therapy, both alternative forms of therapy, and regimented therapy, and had never had any breakthru moments prior to that day.
I told her that I was no expert, but I’m a better one than most because I know what it is like to be her son. I know what it feels like to have no way of communicating what you feel because you don’t think anyone will care about your big ideas, and sadly, most of the time they don’t. They clearly don’t seem to understand why you are drawn to spaceships, music, counting things, building things, taking apart stuff, textures, certain colors, sounds, etc…etc…? So, by that line of logic, I told her that she shouldn’t stop the therapy, but start to do something more important…
Listen, Watch, & Learn.
My favorite past-time, among many, is reading comic books. My favorite line of comic book lore is Marvel Comics, “X-Men.” I became fascinated with the series when I was young, and I’m probably more fascinated with it as an adult. “Art depicts history, reflects the present, and predicts the future.” –Stanislovski
For those of you who don’t know the series, “X-Men,” I’ll give you a quick synopsis of it. It is the concept of the X-gene, a mutation that begins to surface in human beings that gives them remarkable abilities. The X-Men, or mutants, feel that it is evolution; their existance on earth. The normal humans believe it needs a cure, is a threat to civilization as they know it, and something to be ashamed of if they have a child born with the X gene. In that, lies the resistance which propels the series forward, gives life to the plot lines, and I believe is a very exaggerated metaphor for a lot of things in real life today.
If the mutation or ability isn’t embraced, the mutant or person with the X-gene, can become a threat to society because they have no idea how to control their special talents. On the contrary, if the mutation IS embraced, they become a crucial part of society, inventing new ideas, being heros, and taking the human race to a new level of its development.
Do you see any symbolism in what I’m saying with this?
It’s not a secret that Autism is varied in many ways, takes on many forms, and can be creative or destructive. I think at some point, we will stop using the term, “Autism,” to describe its specific differences from that of a normal functioning brain. I hope we do. People often fear what they don’t understand. This saturation of phrases like, “Find A Cure,” or “Fighting Against Autism,” are merely social defaults to make everyone feel they are courageously trying to understand something they really don’t want to understand, but would rather throw money at.
What frustrates me the most is this victim-mode that parents of Autistic children seem to put on like they would their favorite sweater. Not all parents of Autistic kids do that, but a lot do. The pity-party they receive from others regarding, “how difficult it must be to have an autistic child,” or “how sad it is to see someone trying to raise an autistic child,” is like a drug for them. That type of sudo-compassion is destructive to the child and devastating the collective consciousness of society. It therefore crushes any hope that people like me, have, of NOT being grossly underestimated regarding our abilities and contributions to the world.
Entire programs are devoted to, “Understanding Autism,” in which a self-proclaimed expert(usually someone who founded a .org to raise money for Autism), rattles on, and on, but says nothing by the end of the 60 minute interview. The only conclusion they come to is how they have no conclusions! And this, THIS is supposed to be educating the world on Autism?
Their hook at the end of the program is, “Our organization needs donations for finding a cure so there is a hope for these suffering children who have Autism.” And you know what? People fall for that hook all-the-time. I’ve never seen any of those programs interview someone with Autism unless that person does something extraordinary. In which case, the focus isn’t on the thing they did, but on how someone with Autism managed to do ‘that’?!
Many of you probably watched the video of the highschool kid with Asperger’s Syndrom(autism),who was put into a basketball game as a “nice” act on behalf of the coaches-- the team was losing anyway, so why not? He ended up scoring multiple 3 point baskets over and over again, never missing, and thereby winning the game for the team.
It was amazing. But was it amazing because he had Asperger’s, or because he had never played basketball and managed to do that? Most people focused on the Asperger’s part of that magical event. He was interviewed because of his Autism, but not because of his amazing talent that effortlessly played out that night. Regardless of his condition, the act he displayed was worthy of the notoriety.
In closing this long, drawn-out and winded essay, I’d like to take a stand myself, as myself, and boldly state that I do not have a disease that needs to be cured. I am not ill. I do not have cancer, aids, or a broken bone. I am not broken.
Many children with Autism, who are silent out of frustration, would love to speak to you, if you would listen to them without putting expectations of your own preferred means of communication. They have ideas, many ideas. They could have the type of brain that is condusive for figuring out all the wonderful inventions in Star Wars, composing the next symphony, exploring a new planet, curing fatal disorders, or even writing an editorial on Autism?
The brain of someone with Autism is the same brain as yours, but certain areas in an Autistic person’s brain are not used as much, yet other sections of it are lit up like Christmas! Sections that most normal brains have no access to. Perhaps, our unusual brain can be utilized in something extraordinary for the entire evolution of the human race? Something to consider?
Possibly. There are a lot of things to consider in our short time on planet Earth, so while you are considering what type of pizza to order, what shoes to buy, which Dancing With The Stars contestant you’ll vote for, give a brief second of thought to this essay. If nothing but to begin the spark that could start the reconsidering of what Autism is defined as being.
Thanks for reading this.
I started hearing more and more about Autism in the media. I don’t know whether to think this is a good thing, or a bad thing?
I listen as stories are being, “shared,” on television regarding a person’s “fight against such n’ such disease.” They rally saying, “Find A Cure!” I'm sure a ribbon will soon follow this war cry. Ribbons hold power I guess?
The definition of disease is: illness.
I’m extremely tired of catch phrases like, “Fighting _____ disease.” You don’t fight with a disease. To use such imagery implies that it is larger than you.
“What we emotionally focus on is what we manifest.” –Dr. Joseph Murphy
My inspiration for writing this is due to our obsession with problems, specifically diseases. I venture to say that we actually like, or worse, enjoy our problems. They give us a sense of purpose, spawning a fight of: The People vs. the problems. We set up organizations that obtain our money to “fight”, we run 5k events to “fight”, and we inject an unnessessary fear within ourselves.
I have a particular beef with the latest “fight” on the top of the priority list; The Fight Against Autism. (cue the sounds of gun battle here, please)
Autism isn’t a disease by definition. It isn’t an illness. It is however, a neuroligical difference between a “normal brain” and an “abnormal brain,” as defined by doctors who aren’t inside the mind of an autistic person but desperately want to understand it. I don’t think all doctors have the same motivation.
In life, we have various professions in which specific personalities have contrasting motives. Some lawyers are good, some are bad. Some police are noble, some are corrupt. The Macro represents the Micro in all systems. I’m sure most medical professionals are genuinely interested in understanding Autism, but among the professionals are the self-proclaimed experts. You may be thinking that I am one of those self-proclaimed people, but I assure you, I am no where near being an expert on Autism. I just happen be Autistic, and like you, am capable of forming an opinion on various subjects, this one being no different, just a little “closer to home.”
My story: I was orphaned at birth, eventually adopted by a blue-collar family in Texas. In my adoption papers, the box was checked that specified “Autism,” in my file. My ignorant(I say that with kindness) family who wouldn’t take the time to figure out what that meant due to being overly anxious to have a child to love, more than a problem to fix. They never probed what the term, “Autism,” meant for them, likewise for my own development. I believe this was to my benefit.
When I started being steeped into social environments, I knew that I was different from everyone, almost instantly. I don’t believe that the other kids knew why I was different, but perhaps the subconscious energy I was emitting was off-putting to my peers? I wouldn’t conform to groups, clicks, or go along with social niceties. I wouldn’t find any answers to my oddities until much later in life. I wasn’t a snuggler, a hugger, or affectionate by definition. I didn’t look people in the eyes; instead, I intensely watched their mouths when they spoke. I was coined as being, “self-conscious and weird, “ or “depressed.” I was anything but! I was happy, proud, had a very healthy ego(still do sadly), and I felt that nothing was impossible for me. There were NO limitations in my own mind, to me. Yet, I displayed a huge amount of limitation when it came to relating to others, reading, writing, and following instructions in exam settings, homework, or sport. I’d become irritable at times, but usually when I was misunderstood, judged too harshly, or underestimated.
I had certain attributes that I was amazingly good at. Conversely, there were other activities I was flat-out terrible at. Physical things came easily, mechanical things were facinating, math was fun, music was thrilling, performing and being the center of entertainment was the reason I woke up in the morning.
What I feared being a part of: Going to movies with friends, role-playing games, board games, slumber parties, textures of certain fabrics, change in routine, english class, group sports, playing with dolls, loud shrill noises in certain environments, large crowds surrounding me, and other things related to the above. Oh, and playing 3-Dimensional video games isn't fun for me. Yet, hilarious for those watching me play and laughing at me as I get hung up on a pixel for 3.4 minutes. One day I will OWN my friends in Halo, but until that day...I'll suck at it.
I embraced my weirdness. I thought it was, “who I was,” and that was fine by me. My oddness was a-okay with my family as well. They too are a tad odd, so it was par for the course.
In my adult life, I have many friends ranging in age, race, social background, etc.. all of them are aware of my eccentric neurotic ways... they love it because it constantly keeps them guessing, guessing whether or not I'll snap. Just kidding, no really, I won't snap unless you blow an airhorn in my right ear. Then, I'll snap, and how!
My career choices are based soley on what I enjoy doing, and what I’m confident in. I had the unique benefit of having the things I was interested in, or showed talent in, nurtured and supported by my family, mentors, and friends.
The “norm” has always scared me. Extraordinary people throughout history were violently opposed by “the norm,” and had to have full confidence in their unusual ideas and motives. If those people hadn’t existed, we wouldn’t have cars, airplanes, wireless technology, computers, movies, musical genres, fashion, medicines, the use of electricity, government, etc… but someone in “the norm,” took a risk and listened to their insane idea and it gained credibility. That is the power that we as people have.
My point with all this? The term “Autism” is a giant blanket term that encompasses a lot more than a problem that needs to be fixed. I’d like to educate you all on a few things about this ‘Autism thing’. For one, the average IQ of most “normal” people, is actually below what the normal average IQ is of someone with Asperger’s Syndrome. A regression in social behavior is to blame for this “find a cure” mantra in social circles right now, regarding Autism. It’s fact the Autistic brain is wired differently than the normal brain of most people. That hard-wiring isn’t necessarily a bad thing! It’s all in how you look at it, which is the battle cry of someone with Autism.
The non-autistic brain vs. an autistic brain, is like comparing a car engine to a motorcycle engine. Both are fundamentally the same, yet they are operated with entirely different techniques & rules. If you drove a motorcycle with the same technique as a car, you’d crash in a matter of minutes.
If I drove a car with the same technique as a motorcycle, I’d be exerting a great deal of energy for nothing, and it wouldn’t get me anywhere, any faster.
The Autistic brain, in MY opinion, is like a complex lock. Once you crack the code, you can open up the Pandora’s box of ideas, talents, and magic. What cracks the code isn’t a specialized school or a therapy that focuses on the problems or calls it a disease. It is certainly not the attitude of fighting for a cure that will crack the code! The code is cracked by paying attention to what interests these unusually wonderful children, and then allowing them to delve into their facinations will full support by those around them.
I’ve often thought of my own mind as being overly objective. I believe that Autism is the disorder of objectivity. Have you ever been in a weird place, new place, or situation in which you feel like an outsider looking into a world you know nothing about, yet you SEE it objectively? Simular to people-watching in an airport, restaurant, mall, etc…
You see everything, but you don’t feel like you are in it. It doesn’t in otherwords, affect you negatively or positively. It just IS what it is.
If you can understand that, you can understand what it is like to be inside the head of an Autistic person.
If people on the “outside” are constantly wanting you to conform to their way of communicating, or being, in gross levels, wouldn’t it be natural for anyone to want to shut down socially? Especially if your hard-wiring suggests that you aren’t going to be good at conforming to what they are naturally good at. You aren’t being listened to anyway, so why try anymore? Right?
This is the reason, I believe, that autistic kids shut down and stop talking. You would to if everyone kept crying about how you don't "hug them enough." The thought of "hugging" someone just doesn't factor into what the Autistic kid is thinking about! I wasn't thinking about hugging anyone. I was thinking about how many tiles were on the ceiling, how I could convert my treehouse into an observatory...oh, and convincing all the boys in the neighborhood that I was a legitimate ninja. Hugging? Snuggling? Never thought of it until highschool, and only because multiple people kept hugging me when they saw me. I had no idea what to do in that situation, so I hugged back...
Let me share with you a real story that I had the priveledge of being a part of, and one that I think will drive the plot of this blog a bit further.
In December of 2006, I was working at a very well known children’s theatre in Dallas, Texas as a puppeteer. A family came into the theatre to purchase tickets for the holiday show. A mother, father, and their son. The boy was playing with a Tie Fighter toy from the wonderful, “Star Wars” movies. He was really, really, into that toy. They purchased tickets from me, and I began talking to the boy, who was around 8 years old, about his awesome toy.
I said, “Don’t you wish we had real Tie Fighters?! I think it’s possible to have them, maybe we should put our heads together and figure that out, huh? Do you think they work on a gravitational force field or strickly a magnetic shield that keeps them propelled back to the Deathstar?”
He very matter-of-factly said, “Well, actually I think magentic energy is probably how they return to the Deathstar, but what drives them forward, well..I’m still working on that theory.”
This boy’s mother began weeping. I was taken aback by it and thought, “Oh wow, did I do something wrong?, “What is going on here?”
She pulled herself together long enough to say the following, “How did you do that? We’ve never heard him speak, nobody has! Who are you? How did you do that?”
I knew the reality of what was going on right away. The father chimes in, and he, being just as emotionally shaken as she was said, “He has Autism. We’ve tried everything to get him to talk to us.”
The mother kept asking me how I managed to get her son to speak.
The secret I was keeping for years in my personal & professional worlds, was about to be out in the open. I was half-way scared of talking openly about Autism. Afraid that those who I professionally worked with would hear me and I’d be treated as sub-standard or incompetent thereafter. I knew in my gut that I had to be open about it for the sake of people like this family, and moreso, this child.
I said, “Well Maam, I didn’t know he had Autism. I don’t think anyone would know that by looking at him. What would you think if I told you that I have Autism?”
She chuckled and said, “yeah, but it’s clear you don’t have autism.”
I said, “Is it?”
I went on to tell her that I am Autistic, and the reason her son spoke to me wasn’t because I’m a fellow Autistic person, but because it was obvious to him that I cared about his interests --that he was really thinking about his spaceship toy and seemed to be playing with it as though he was analysing how it worked. I told his mother this, but then I said, “I didn’t think he was strange, he gave me the impression that he was a really brainy kid who was into science.”
As this conversation was going on, her son was beginning to look at the stage lighting, set pieces, etc… I went up to him and said, “Hi, My name is Mel. Since you like building stuff, would you like to watch the show from backstage? I could show you how the lighting board works?”
He lit up with excitement and ran up to his mother and for the first time spoke to her, “Mom, can I watch backstage with Mel?”
He remembered my name, knew to ask his mother for permission, and seemed to behave as though he’d asked her a hundred times for permission to do things.
Of course she accepted, but then I watched as the very natural fear took hold of her. She said, “can I go back there with you to make sure you are okay.” What followed was a fit of rage; screaming, holding and pulling his head/hair, and abusing himself. I stepped in and said, he’ll be fine. I looked at him and said, “Yo, dude, you’ll be fine right? Right. So let’s go!” He stopped instantly in his rage and seemed to snap back into the moment and said, “yeah, I want to see the light board.”
To sum this story up, I still keep intouch with this family. I found out that the family had spent over 20,000 dollars in therapy, both alternative forms of therapy, and regimented therapy, and had never had any breakthru moments prior to that day.
I told her that I was no expert, but I’m a better one than most because I know what it is like to be her son. I know what it feels like to have no way of communicating what you feel because you don’t think anyone will care about your big ideas, and sadly, most of the time they don’t. They clearly don’t seem to understand why you are drawn to spaceships, music, counting things, building things, taking apart stuff, textures, certain colors, sounds, etc…etc…? So, by that line of logic, I told her that she shouldn’t stop the therapy, but start to do something more important…
Listen, Watch, & Learn.
My favorite past-time, among many, is reading comic books. My favorite line of comic book lore is Marvel Comics, “X-Men.” I became fascinated with the series when I was young, and I’m probably more fascinated with it as an adult. “Art depicts history, reflects the present, and predicts the future.” –Stanislovski
For those of you who don’t know the series, “X-Men,” I’ll give you a quick synopsis of it. It is the concept of the X-gene, a mutation that begins to surface in human beings that gives them remarkable abilities. The X-Men, or mutants, feel that it is evolution; their existance on earth. The normal humans believe it needs a cure, is a threat to civilization as they know it, and something to be ashamed of if they have a child born with the X gene. In that, lies the resistance which propels the series forward, gives life to the plot lines, and I believe is a very exaggerated metaphor for a lot of things in real life today.
If the mutation or ability isn’t embraced, the mutant or person with the X-gene, can become a threat to society because they have no idea how to control their special talents. On the contrary, if the mutation IS embraced, they become a crucial part of society, inventing new ideas, being heros, and taking the human race to a new level of its development.
Do you see any symbolism in what I’m saying with this?
It’s not a secret that Autism is varied in many ways, takes on many forms, and can be creative or destructive. I think at some point, we will stop using the term, “Autism,” to describe its specific differences from that of a normal functioning brain. I hope we do. People often fear what they don’t understand. This saturation of phrases like, “Find A Cure,” or “Fighting Against Autism,” are merely social defaults to make everyone feel they are courageously trying to understand something they really don’t want to understand, but would rather throw money at.
What frustrates me the most is this victim-mode that parents of Autistic children seem to put on like they would their favorite sweater. Not all parents of Autistic kids do that, but a lot do. The pity-party they receive from others regarding, “how difficult it must be to have an autistic child,” or “how sad it is to see someone trying to raise an autistic child,” is like a drug for them. That type of sudo-compassion is destructive to the child and devastating the collective consciousness of society. It therefore crushes any hope that people like me, have, of NOT being grossly underestimated regarding our abilities and contributions to the world.
Entire programs are devoted to, “Understanding Autism,” in which a self-proclaimed expert(usually someone who founded a .org to raise money for Autism), rattles on, and on, but says nothing by the end of the 60 minute interview. The only conclusion they come to is how they have no conclusions! And this, THIS is supposed to be educating the world on Autism?
Their hook at the end of the program is, “Our organization needs donations for finding a cure so there is a hope for these suffering children who have Autism.” And you know what? People fall for that hook all-the-time. I’ve never seen any of those programs interview someone with Autism unless that person does something extraordinary. In which case, the focus isn’t on the thing they did, but on how someone with Autism managed to do ‘that’?!
Many of you probably watched the video of the highschool kid with Asperger’s Syndrom(autism),who was put into a basketball game as a “nice” act on behalf of the coaches-- the team was losing anyway, so why not? He ended up scoring multiple 3 point baskets over and over again, never missing, and thereby winning the game for the team.
It was amazing. But was it amazing because he had Asperger’s, or because he had never played basketball and managed to do that? Most people focused on the Asperger’s part of that magical event. He was interviewed because of his Autism, but not because of his amazing talent that effortlessly played out that night. Regardless of his condition, the act he displayed was worthy of the notoriety.
In closing this long, drawn-out and winded essay, I’d like to take a stand myself, as myself, and boldly state that I do not have a disease that needs to be cured. I am not ill. I do not have cancer, aids, or a broken bone. I am not broken.
Many children with Autism, who are silent out of frustration, would love to speak to you, if you would listen to them without putting expectations of your own preferred means of communication. They have ideas, many ideas. They could have the type of brain that is condusive for figuring out all the wonderful inventions in Star Wars, composing the next symphony, exploring a new planet, curing fatal disorders, or even writing an editorial on Autism?
The brain of someone with Autism is the same brain as yours, but certain areas in an Autistic person’s brain are not used as much, yet other sections of it are lit up like Christmas! Sections that most normal brains have no access to. Perhaps, our unusual brain can be utilized in something extraordinary for the entire evolution of the human race? Something to consider?
Possibly. There are a lot of things to consider in our short time on planet Earth, so while you are considering what type of pizza to order, what shoes to buy, which Dancing With The Stars contestant you’ll vote for, give a brief second of thought to this essay. If nothing but to begin the spark that could start the reconsidering of what Autism is defined as being.
Thanks for reading this.
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