From my heart to yours.

I count my days as one numbers the hairs on a hedgehog. You clump the strands together into spiky, soft and in between. Oh and eyelashes count too.

Night melds into a haze of eating battles, Asian tv dramas, youtube and toothpaste, while the day brings something similiar with sunlight and warmth. What is here and now and there and then?

Upset dears approve of silent sullen peace and drowning of yesterday's mishaps and misunderstandings. Ornamental smiles and dreamy Josh slips away behind his autism.

Reality bites and eloquence disappears. My racing thoughts disappear and I am left with this predicament.

I need touch to talk and I need people who can provide that life giving touch that makes the difference between lonely exclusion and vital validation of my existence as a human.

I do think.

I do have a voice.

I am not really that different.

It's just that more of my days are spiky compared to yours.

[Typing time for this entry: 33 minutes]

Frying pans and fattening grease

Hello my dear readers.

It sure has been ages since I have blogged. I am still alive and well just finding it hard to fry some enjoyment on the blogging saucepan and the gas stove of time. I think it just sucks that I can't make my thoughts be served on the table unassisted.

I think it's easier to fit into neat little boxes of assumptions than it is to try and climb out of them only to slip back into them due to the grease of apathy, busyness, impatience and opposition. I think I am just experiencing the aftermath of exhilaration of presenting at Agosci and the normality of the mundane.

Things would be so much better if more people could help me fc, if I could type faster, if I could control my glaringly obvious sensory obsessions, if I could, for just a moment, be in the ballpark of the coveted and elusive "normal".

I consider it all the rant of the night and I am grateful for your company.

From the bold one eyed pirate.

The impossible wish.

Is the most impossible thing this? He who sees beyond a tower of assumptions and the deception of appearance is wise and rare. It is hard to put up a convincing front to skeptics that I am attentive and determined.

This was simpler before when I could speak and smile on command. Knowledge it seems is not enough. You also need social rituals that glues you to dear circles of friends. It is about the fun of quickly exchanged lines of politeness and fancy enquiries of the familiar and mundane.

I am capable of such concerts of chitchat but will anyone wait long enough?

You're the impossible wish come true if you can.

Yesterday

Playful banter seem to be so golden when your words are so labouriously produced with the elusive mix of time, mood, creativity, well behaved body movement and peaceful environment. I feel that though everybody walks a different path sometimes we are doomed to a life of restriction and limits.

The trick is you must not let the problems slay your hope for something better. Yes its much too easy to get jealous of others who seem to get everything they want, but I need to remember that I am already abundantly blessed. I can't be a chatterbox or an engaging being with witty lines and fun-to-make-faces-with-type guy, But I can open your eyes to a rare perspective into life and challenge your views on what you define as disability.

I am honoured to know that I am not alone in my journey with bothersome body, painfully slow typing and uphill battle to achieve my dreams. One such person who paved the way of hope was Anne Macdonald. You were such an inspiration to so many. Many of us hope we are able to continue your legacy and be a beacon of hope to others who haven't found their voices yet.

So yesterday saw the end of a journey valiantly undertaken. Today we will continue ours with the same kind of courage and tenacity. So tomorrow a new generation of people who use facilitated communication can persevere and continue the revolution.

Yes yes and yes.

For the going and coming

Little by little a dream uncurls like a slinky on a really hot day. But if only things were so easy. It's more like a hammering of a very hard piece of metal or a marathon of a thousand miles, where I only want to finish not to come first place.

I come as quiet sullen young man with an elusive smile and many deep thoughts. Joy is like humming a secret song of hope yes.

Trying your best and failing is no crime, but failing to give someone a chance to try is. I am thankful for those who believe in me even though they haven't seen what I am capable of yet.

How can I explain how frustrating and hopeless and helpless it is when you can't say what you want when you want and experience the aftermath of unalterable presumptions of only a stupid boy that should be pitied.

I hope to challenge such presumptions to a duel to the death, by choosing to push my limits and shock people about what they think autism is.

So, here is my coming and going. Farewell.
The bold one-eyed pirate.

the enterprise of happiness.

understand that happiness is relative and that you really dont know how much something means to you until it shows up no more. in writing up this blog i have to use so much more energy and concentration to think and type out each letter. silly word prediction gone haywire. but i persevere. hopefully matt can find someone to fix it.

but first back to happiness topic. happiness for me means typing independence with word prediction, family being nice to each other, finishing a blog and pressing 'publish post', going to church where my friends are and working with people who look beyond my autism and see an intelligent and understanding young man inside a body marred by crabby muscles and short power cuts between my mind and my movements.

the zero is the likes of people who dont believe that these are my own words. i can think for myself and fc is my magical paintbrush that lets me create masterpieces of words and of a young man's attempt to make a mark in the world today.

hope you enjoyed my thoughts for today.

the bold one-eyed pirate

By the sea.

By the sea.
By the Bold One-Eyed Pirate

Happily strolling allowing myself to marvel at the unending sky and uneven footpath trailing along the side of the sea. I think to myself and this was my funny thought.

What if my every day’s worth of frustrations, loneliness, battles and lack of control and few chances to say how I feel were the norm and everybody else were autistic instead.

I will do everything in my power to break free from my imprisoned body of uncontrolled hand movements and freezed up muscles, but meantime bear with me while I am under construction.

Try to see me as the one with a bright mind in a body of blackouts and short circuits. Both run on separate circuits, which means if I am acting up it's really not a great indicator of my thoughts or feelings. Most of the time anyway.

Thank you my kind readers for finding time to come read my long but important thoughts for today.