This is some of what I’ve been creating this week…
I found a mandala that had been started quite sometime ago and was about a quarter towards completion, so I finished it. I made the pattern up as I went along…
As I enjoyed it so much I thought I needed to expand my skills so I purchased this…
It’s published by Interweave Press so I knew it would be good. As soon as it arrived I hooked up this one…
I started and finished a pair of socks. Go me!…
Eleonora continues to beaver away over at Coastal Crochet blog designing new rows for us each week. Here’s my blankets with their latest rows added…
There’s a couple of other items that I haven’t managed to work on this week. I have been spinning and I’m about halfway through a 350 gram bag mix of merino and silk from John Arbon Textiles. I can’t get the colour right but here it is thus far…
I’m struggling at the moment and I’m not sure how to put it into words. It’s a lot of things and most of it underpinned by lack of self worth. I’m also affected by a lack of understanding by a person this week of the limitations of my sensory processing disorder. The person does not read my blog.
I’m letting you know as I sense myself withdrawing into myself even more than usual. I think it might help me to acknowledge this.
So that’s it for now. Thanks so much for dropping by ❤
I definitely prefer difference over disorder and I often use it as a tag after Laina brought it up in one of her posts. Thank you very much for writing this. I do like the analogy with a tomato 🍅 I seem to understand things better when an analogy is used 😆
You know how some people say ‘tomato’ and some people say ‘tomatoe’?
Well I guess autism is a little like that.
Only it’s not about how you pronounce it, it’s about the subtle inflections and differentiations of meaning that we convey when we use the word ‘autism’.
Or at least, I’ve noticed, when I’ve brought up autism, that many people have a definition in their head, and I do not fit into it. That I’m saying ‘tomato’ and they’re saying ‘tomatoe’, so to speak.
We’re using the same word, but we’re using it differently.
When most people say the word ‘tomato’ they understand the denotative meaning of the word – this is essentially the dictionary definition.
The very basic definition of what a tomato is. This would line up with many other people’s versions of the word ‘tomato’.
Although for many people, the ‘connotative meaning‘ of the word…
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On how power silences marginalised groups
Great power brings the need for great responsibility.
Online, I and so many other autistic people have been watching a rich, powerful, well-connected, well publicised author trying to silence autistic voices of dissent.
The author has written a book which outlines her son’s autistic behaviours. She describes him in ways many autistic people find humiliating, dehumanising, horrific. I don’t use such words lightly. It describes how the mum in question intends to seek a vasectomy for her son, currently aged 15, to stop him having children in future. He is at school, talks, reads, has friends. The author had described another autistic person in terms that the person found distressing. When they complained about this, they were referred to as a brat. It was a moment of revelation as to the author’s view of autistic adults.
When autistic people took to finding copies of the book (for a while available as a pdf online, since removed) – or reading copies in the library… or borrowing copies from one another – they started reviewing it online. The author didn’t like this, it seems.
The author contacted a friend of theirs on a large bookselling site and it seems asked them to censor the comments. Then apparently asked her largely-rich, powerful group of online friends to target the autistic commentators by getting the review sites to remove their comments.
Let’s think about this for a moment.
Autistic people are amongst the more impoverished on the planet. So many have no jobs, no spare income. Not so much as a spare £1. Society prevents most of us from working, such is the level of misunderstanding and hate out there.
In order to comment on whether we have a right to reproduce, and whether an author has the right to name and shame their own child in that debate and publish it…we have to now be able to afford to buy a book each, it seems. From a specific bookshop where the cheapest price seems to be £8. And review it in ways that please the author, or her mate will remove their review. £8…. That’s possibly two days of food, for an autistic person. Maybe it’s a whole weeks-worth of food.
This, my friends, is power.
The power to decide who is rich enough to review you
Lol, certainly made me smile…
Merry Christmas Everyone! Or for anyone that doesn’t celebrate Christmas, Happy Belated Hanukah, late Solstice, early Kwanza, and a Very Happy December 25th!
I think no matter what you celebrate, The 12 Days of Christmas carol is probably something that you’ve heard. The math has been done, and to purchase all 12 days of gifts would cost you almost $35,000!
I’ve replace the drummers, pipers, lords and ladies, the maids, the swans, and the geese, the gold rings, the calling birds, French hens, turtle doves, and the partridge with things that are a little more relatable!
So I present to you-
The Twelve Days of Autism
On the First day of Christmas, Autism gave to me, A meltdown in a pear tree
On the Second day of Christmas, Autism gave to me, two info-dumps, and a meltdown in a pear tree
On the Third day of Christmas, Autism gave to…
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It was the village carol service tonight. I find this event very difficult to deal with each year as I cannot tolerate the lights and noise in the church anymore. So I went over and peered through the windows hoping I wouldn’t be seen. It was rather strange behaviour!
So I feel sad.
I took some photos with my phone as the church looks very beautiful. The image quality is poor but I think it gives something worth sharing.
We’re standing on a train platform in the middle of nowhere – the kind that doesn’t even have a ticket office or a loo (and if you need to pee you have to just mindlessly panic, praying that the train will come any second now, while desperately considering squatting in the nearest bush).
I am buttoned up in my winter coat and balancing on one leg like a flamingo – hopping up and down in tune with the painted yellow line on the platform. The wind is shaking the leaves in the trees like some sort of improvised percussion instrument, and a few stray autumn leaves are chasing conker shells around the ankles of the oaks.
It’s that strange overcast kind of day that coats everything in a pasty white light – it could be 6pm or 6am and it’s difficult to tell which.
‘This is how the apocalypse would…
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This! This is just how it is….
Finding out you might be autistic as an adult is like walking through your memories and finding breadcrumbs resting on the ground where the first time around there were none.
Suddenly there’s hundreds of clues hidden through your life that no one picked up on – at every intersection.
Only while Hansel and Gretel couldn’t find their way home because the birds had snacked on the crumbs, it was on the way through your journey first time around that you were lost – no breadcrumbs in sight.
And now, years later, you can trace these crumbs – that were always there but that you couldn’t see – through the forest with a sense of wonder.
Each one a small puzzle piece leading you home.
I have a thing about dolls. I still have many of the dolls from my sixties childhood. They are hidden away. I’ve kind of felt ashamed about my doll love affair. It’s childish. I thought people would think me childish. Yes I am childish in many ways, after all, being child-like is an autistic trait. But. The new, no, …the real me… is gradually appearing and taking over and conquering the fears of the person I thought I was.
So, I’m coming out. And, my dolls should come out of the closet too.
I need to find a glass fronted antique style cabinet to display them. This is important as our home has two fires and sooty dust is a fact of life.
A year ago, before my shoulder became fully frozen I was completing a lot of jigsaw puzzles and this was one of them…
This jigsaw helped me re-identify with my authentic doll loving self. As a child my mum encouraged me to play with my dolls. I didn’t know how. But i did love to look at them. I liked collecting them. (During my teenage years I found all my dolls under the house and in the refuse bin. They were rescued and hidden away!)
Wind forward a year later too late November 2017 when I bought this book…
And inside I found the pattern for this doll that I completed last week…
I made her with my handspun yarn and she’s stuffed with fleece, yarn ends and a bit of poly fill.
My dolls are still in the closet. It’s time to get them out.
It is not uncommon to think that everyone is, essentially, the same. Certainly there don’t seem to be any significant genetic differences among different groups, particularly those genes involving the brain. But what if there are differences not among different racial/ethnic/cultural groups but, rather, within the human species as a whole?
About 84% of the genes are expressed in the brain. Given that humans have 20,000 genes, that means about 16,800 genes are expressed in the brain.
We should not be surprised, then, if we were to find more than a bit of variation among human brains.
We should expect to see variation in degrees of creativity vs. copying, on liberalism vs. conservatism, on selfish behavior vs. altruism, introversion vs. extroversion, leadership vs. following, variations in thinking styles, degrees of mental energy, I.Q. and flexibility of I.Q., and of course any of a variety of learning…
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