UPDATE: Last night, May 20th, the body of Nichole Kristine Cable was found just miles from her home. Continue to keep Nichole and her family in your hearts, pray even if you've never prayed before. The perpetrator is still out there somewhere. As more information becomes available, I will update you all accordingly.
Thank you so much for your support.
Luck is not to be coerced. ~Albert Camus
I bought my $4 worth of Powerball tickets this morning. As the saying goes, I can’t win if I don’t play, right? According to the good folks in the media, my odds of winning are about 1 in 200 million. Or something like that. I have better odds on the following scenarios:
I will be elected President of the United States at some point (1 in 10 million)
I will, should I choose to have kids, produce quadruplets (1 in 700,000)
I will be struck by a meteor or asteroid in my lifetime (approximately 1 in 500,000)
I will give Dirk Benedict and Dwight Schultz my book manuscript, and it will become an instant bestseller (1 in Bwahahahahaha)
You see where I’m going with this. Winning the lottery is a fantasy, a whim, something to carelessly daydream about for five minutes of my day. I think about how I could buy my very own A-Team van, a private island, and hire the services of a helicopter pilot who looked a lot like H.M. Murdock. And then I actually thought about it. In so many ways, I have already won the lottery. Consider:
I have access to clean water and healthy, edible food without wondering where my next meal will come from.
I live in a country, albeit flawed, where I can speak my mind and practice my own belief system without fear of persecution.
As a woman, I have full access to my country’s government and am considered a real citizen.
I can read and write, and do so freely.
With so many adults, especially those in the autism spectrum, currently out of work, I have a job I like.
That sounds like a pretty good jackpot to me. Next time you throw your non-winning Powerball tickets in the trash, just take a moment and consider how many jackpots you’ve already won.
And if you do, by some miracle, win that big one, won’t you at least buy me lunch?
If you won a big lottery jackpot, what would you do with the money?
The cat is the best anarchist. ~Ernest Hemingway, “For Whom the Bell Tolls”
Remember the line in Monty Python and the Holy Grail about Death and its sharp, nasty, pointy teeth? I have seen Death in all its horrifying terror. In fact, two incarnations of Death. I found these tiny but merciless minions of the devil in my backyard. And I must say, there is nothing to mind one of one’s own mortality quite like a furry, spitting, hissing ball of Evil Kitten that has murder on its mind.
Thing 1 and Thing 2, as I’ve been calling them, are undeniably cute. (All kittens, it must be said, are cute.) I have no idea if either one of them will ever be able to live the life of a house cat. In fairness, the sweet cat I had as a kid was born feral. It’s possible, but the odds are against these guys. The lady at the rescue I took them too is already overwhelmed with kittens, most of whom are already tame. And, of course, just as cute as the Things. Her words were that they have a 1-in-100 shot.
Still, those aren’t impossible odds. I am doing everything I can, including spending part of my next paycheck, to help these guys. I know it’s just a drop in the bucket. I know that, despite my efforts, thousands of cats and kittens are euthanized every day for lack of good homes. All because people didn’t take the time to spay and neuter their pets. I’ve also caught the Things’ promiscuous parents, and they are awaiting fixing before release.
I can’t help but think of them as my cats. They were born in my backyard. I have been feeding them along with their parents. They can’t help being born wild. Despite their persistent dirty looks and death threats, I’ve come to really like them. I just can’t keep them since cat pee and deep scratches don’t go with any of my current decor.
I’m waiting to see how Operation Evil Kitten turns out. It won’t end with these two hellbeasts being put down. Whatever happens, they are getting fixed and living out their lives. I don’t know whether that will be the wild or someone’s house. All I know is that I’ve helped save four lives that many people might think are worthless. I don’t think like that, just like I don’t think people without homes are worthless. So much is our perception.
Oh, and if you’d like to get involved saving the feral cats, Alley Cat Allies is a great resource. They advocate the humane Trap/Neuter/Return method which is proven to help reduce feral populations. That means fewer lives needlessly lost.
And everybody deserves a shot at life…even the feline equivalents of the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog.
Do you have feral cats in your area? What tips do you have to help them?
A culture fixated on female thinness is not an obsession about female beauty, but an obsession about female obedience. ~Naomi Wolf
Hard to believe, but a piece I wrote last year (Lesbian Disney Princesses Are All Right with Me) continues to garner the most hits. It isn’t even close. And, as fate would have it, the subject was brought up again. I just can’t help it…there are wars going on, children going to bed hungry, and this is what gets my goat. I feel like such a bad American.
Not that I’m their target consumer or anything, but Disney has re-designed Princess Merida from last year’s hit Brave to better fit its monolithic Princess brand. Her bow and arrow, untamed curls, and tomboyish posture appear to have been stripped away. (Apparently, no wild-and-free Princesses are allowed in the Magic Kingdom.) I could also throw in my outrage over the Abercrombie and Fitch CEO’s idiotic comments about who is “cool” and who isn’t, but that would be superfluous.
Why do I care so much about what is, after all, a very First World problem? I don’t have kids, I don’t plan on having kids, I don’t go to Disney parks, and I certainly don’t buy any Disney merchandise (well, OK, I made an exception for Wreck-It Ralph.) In fact I’ve made a point to stay far, far away from the sparkly pink monster that is modern Disney Princess-dom.
I care because I am a woman. I care because millions of little girls are growing up right now thinking their only worth lies in their beauty and not their creativity, their intellect, or their unique qualities. I care because I, like the vast majority of women, am not gorgeous and cannot live up to impossible standards set by Madison Avenue and Hollywood. We live in a world where too many women are considered objects and not people. And it has to stop.
When I was a girl, back before the Princess Borg arrived to assimilate millions of unassuming young consumers, my favorite Disney flick was Beauty and the Beast. Yes, Belle was beautiful, but she was also intelligent, courageous, and unafraid to be different. A few years later, I was enchanted by Mulan, the awkward girl who became a warrior and helped save her country (and, incidentally, was NOT a princess.) I didn’t want to be thin and impossibly beautiful because of these characters. If anything, they inspired me to be strong and celebrate my differences.
I wanted to think Brave would be a modern-day equivalent. In some ways it was: a rebellious heroine who was not gorgeous, fought with her mother, and preferred archery to tea parties. In the end it was just another marketing ploy for Disney, whose current focus on money over quality would have Walt spinning in his grave. To Disney’s credit, they have featured animated heroines who aren’t princesses, but, of course, have to be impossibly beautiful (Esmeralda, Megara, Pocahontas.) I give up.
Thankfully, I have two fallbacks for Favorite Disney Chick. I can see a bit of my quirky Aspie self in both of them, and I’d recommend them to my friends and mothers of young girls who aren’t all about the pink. Since Merida appears to have been turned to the Pink Side, I give you, ladies and gentlement, Lilo (Lilo and Stitch) and Vanellope von Schweetz (Wreck-It Ralph). There is still good in the world.
What do you love/hate about the Princess brand and Disney? If you are a parent of girls, how does it affect you?
I don’t want to be alone; I want to be left alone. ~Audrey Hepburn
I have very few friends.
Well, a lot of that is how I define the word “friend.” There are 100 or so folks I keep up with on Facebook, everyone from casual acquaintances to former co-workers and family members who live across the country. I define the word “friend” as someone to whom I can tell absolutely anything. And if we’re going by this definition, my number of “friends” suddenly dips to perhaps six or eight. Maybe I should consider myself lucky. Most people go through life with perhaps one or two good friends….if that many.
That being said, given a choice, I will usually opt to be alone. Part of it is my strange Aspie wiring. Part of it is sensory exhaustion following my daily work. And part of it, even weirder in our ultra-outgoing, everyone-is-connected culture, is a natural inclination to be alone. We loners are demonized, catcalled, and smeared (when was the last time some mass-murdering psychopath was labeled, say a “gregarious extravert?”) If you don’t believe me, read Anneli Rufus’ excellent book on the subject, Party of One: The Loners’ Manifesto.
I like my solitary pursuits such as reading, hiking through the woods, and visiting museums. I also enjoy the company of others. Let’s be clear on one thing: I am solitary by nature, but I am not Ted Kaczynski. Or J.D. Salinger. Or Bill Watterson. A lot of people, my own family included, don’t understand this. They see things strictly in all-or-nothing terms. An introvert like me does not live purely in isolation, just as I don’t assume extraverts are constantly drinking and throwing parties. I socialize just as they do. I just don’t do it in such great quantities, and I’m a lot pickier about whom I socialize with. Many of my friends have met a stranger. I assume everyone is a stranger until he or she proves me wrong.
One of the great blessings for me, and, I assume, most of those on the autism spectrum, has been the rise of the Internet era. Cyberspace gives me a safe happy medium to meet like-minded souls. There are people who are very near and dear to me whom I’ve never met in person, but whose voices have made me laugh and cry via Skype. People for whom I’ve written stories and sent care packages thousands of miles. Likewise, in the blogosphere, I’ve gotten to know so many of my fellow readers and writers. I’d have never met any of these wonderful folks if it weren’t for the digital revolution. Had it not been for my autism diagnosis and ongoing work, I doubt I’d have had the courage to talk to them.
Of course I must have some level of social skills. How else would I have acquired, and kept, my friends? How would I hold a job and not be waiting for the producers of Hoarders to discover me? That’s encouraging. It’s also, I think, a sign that I’ve moved out of the most difficult time in my life. (Yes, there was a time when I would have been a candidate for some strange reality show, but I try not to think about that.)
Still, I’m comfortable with being mostly solitary. It’s soothing and comforting. I’m also not afraid to go to restaurants by myself. If the server asks, I can always say I have Harvey with me. I make time for all my friends, visible and otherwise.
Do you consider yourself more of an extravert or an introvert? Have you gone places by yourself?
Coming soon (hopefully), another exciting edition of “Your Burning Questions, Answered!”
You don’t want to get mixed up with a guy like me. I’m a loner, Dottie. A rebel. ~from “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure”
You might not know this, and I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but Pee-wee’s Big Adventure is one of my favorite films. I’ll give you a minute to stop laughing and wipe the spit from your monitor, then I’ll continue. Fair enough?
Over the years I’ve watched this movie countless times. What kept me coming back? Was it the Tim Burton kitschy-scary vibe? Large Marge? The dinosaur dream sequence? It’s hard to say. I know the whole thing by heart and I’m actually going to a convention for the flick in September. The more I think about it, the more I realize I actually learned important life lessons watching Pee-wee in pursuit of his beloved bike.
Again, I’d like to pause for a moment of reflection and laughter suppression. Ahem.
Sure, the movie isn’t Citizen Kane or The Godfather or even the original Star Wars trilogy. It’s cheesy and low-budget and it doesn’t care. What the hell have I learned from 25-plus years watching a crazy man-child in a gray suit running all over America?
Never lose touch with your sense of wonder. The happiest people I know, no matter their station in life, all have this trait (see also under “H.M. Murdock.”) It’s also called “inner child” and most people lose it by a certain age. Go to the zoo. Go to a toy store. Ride the merry-go-round. If you feel too weird doing this, lasso a child into coming with you. You may have more fun than the kid.
Peer pressure? What peer pressure? There’s only one you. If you like wearing feather boas or listening to Yanni, by all means, do it if it makes you happy. We spend most of our lives trying to fit into a niche defined by nebulous forces such as “the media” or “society.” As long as you’re not being lewd or violating some law, let that freak flag fly, baby.
Play the “Yes Game” and see what happens. Instead of saying “no” to everything automatically, try saying “yes” once in a while. A whole set of unexpected possibilities may open up for you. I’m not suggesting you have to invite the local Jehovah’s Witnesses in to tea or subscribe to every magazine, but start small. Try the popular improv game “Yes, and…” with a friend.
Fear nothing…except maybe clowns. Everyone is deathly afraid of something. It’s all right to have these fears. If we were completely without fear, we would lack a sense of urgency and thus, ourselves. (Who knew Pee-wee was an Existentialist?) I, like Pee-wee, am extremely coulrophobic.
If you have a dream, go for it. Remember the infamous “Big Butt” scene in the movie? If you don’t, Pee-wee encourages Simone, erstwhile truck-stop waitress, to chase her dream of living in Paris. Guess what? She eventually does, because she had the courage to take that leap of faith.
Verbal self-defense is often stronger than brawn. “I know you are, but what am I?” Next time you’re in a stressful situation, try using a bit of humor, especially self-deprecating humor, to diffuse tension. If you can get someone to laugh, there’s half the battle.
Know what you’re willing to fight for. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s an idea, a philosophy. Or, just maybe, it’s a tricked-out Schwinn bicycle. It is said that we haven’t yet begun to live unless we have found something (or someone) to fight for. Just don’t go chasing your unctuous neighbors in their swimming pool when you think they’ve stolen your property.
Have fun! Life is taken way too seriously. Laugh (especially at yourself.) Be silly. People who laugh a lot stay younger, you know.
And remember…there is NO basement at the Alamo. I can attest to this.
What advice do you have for life’s Big Adventures? What lessons have your favorite guilty pleasure movies taught you?
What fun is it being cool if you can’t wear a sombrero? ~Bill Watterson
Let’s be honest about clothes. They’re a multi-billion dollar industry, fortunes are won and lost betting on fashion trends, and supermodels everywhere are eating tissues and cotton balls to stay thin enough. For me, they’re just a way to make sure I don’t get arrested for indecent exposure. Clothes are the least of my worries…and they should be, considering my disposable income continues to shrink.
That’s not to say I don’t pay some attention to how I dress. I don’t go for the latest or trendiest clothes, and the weekly What Were They Thinking? column is always a self-esteem booster. My clothes need to be comfortable above all else. They also need to last. Finally, and certainly not least importantly, they need to fit my weird Aspie standards. No loud patterns, certain colors like orange will always be out, and no buttons or zippers. Sound easy?
It isn’t, really. I live in a country where the stuff I like isn’t always accessible or affordable. For example, I haven’t worn jeans for over 15 years (I’m a skirts-only gal) and simple, solid-color pieces are strangely hard to find. The things I can’t live without:
Converse shoes. When your feet are as big as mine (12) and cool women’s shoes don’t exist, these are a go-to. I own half a dozen pairs in different colors. They’re comfortable. Even the site mascot thinks they’re cool.
Solid-color leggings. Paired with skirts, they’re in style now. I’d like to think I partially inspired this trend.
Stretchy tops that can be layered. If you’re clothes-poor like me, make it so you can wear the same stuff in summer and winter.
Merona t-shirts. They’re the best (and they also fit broad-shouldered women like me.)
My leather jacket. Hey, I gotta wear it. Check out AJ’s A-2s if you want one too.
Most people are shocked to hear I get the lion’s share of my clothes from local thrift stores. Yes, it’s digging through a lot of dirt to get a few grains of gold. It’s also a lot of fun, like treasure hunting. If you’re into the more high-end stuff, check out the amazing ShopGoodwill site for some real bargains. In the past I’ve gotten Nike and other designer brand items for five bucks or less.
I don’t think I have a particular style other than “eclectic casual.” A lot of co-workers and customers comment on my look(s), so maybe I have something going. The best thing is, I can look interesting and not have to wear several different outfits in the course of one day. No, I can’t wear my slogan t-shirts to work yet, but I’m working on it. Maybe next Casual Friday I’ll give it a shot. I know I’ll look better than some of these “celebrities” and their train-wreck outfits.
What’s your fashion sense? What do you always wear, and what would you never wear?
