As part of my 'return to reading' I just finished my wife's favorite book, "I Know This Much is True". It was good. It's not the kind of book I'd ordinarily read because a lot of it is sad and I honestly just feel like I can do without all the sadness in my 'entertainments'. It's a drama. But it was really thoughtful, and well written, and researched, and it made me think, which is key.
I had just finished IKTMIT and moved on to, "Manhood for Amateurs", which Angie's sister and brother-in-law (I think it was them, Angie? Wasn't it?) gave me for Christmas. It's by one of my favorite authors, Michael Chabon. It's a series of essays, which is ALSO not something I typically read (Honestly, it's basically a book of blogs if we're being honest. And I'm not sure you could go TOO wrong reading a blog written by Michael Chabon. ANYWAY...), but straight out of the gate, his essay on - what? Art? Taking chances? - struck a chord. It was called "Loser's Club".
In the context of a story from his childhood where he attempted to create a comicbook fanclub (and failed), he writes about the process of creating art, and it resonated with me. He said, "Every work of art is one half of a secret handshake...an act of hopeless optimism in the service of bottomless longing." "Art, like fandom, asserts the possibility of fellowship in a world built entirely from materials of solitude." He talks a bit about this failed fan club as a model for every book he writes. "My story and my stories are all, in one way or another, the same, tales of solitude and the grand pursuit of connection, of success and the inevitability of defeat."
And boy, does that seem like blogging. At least for me. Whether I'm reaching out to fellow autism parents, writers, friends, family, or my kids...or maybe I'm reaching for memories or trying to capture a feeling for myself...blogging is looking for connection the way he describes making art as the pursuit of connection. And with blogging, perhaps a much more direct and tangible result like interaction with like-minded people, and social media conversation.
And all this 'inevitability of defeat' stuff is a bit of a downer, except, EXCEPT, this is the Pulitzer Prize winner. And it's kind of nice to know that even when you've written...however many novels he's written, and even when you've won...whatever awards he's won...you still question yourself and worry about failure. And maybe for someone like me (or others who might read this) you shouldn't worry so much about the failure, because EVERYONE worries about failure, and instead just reach out for that secret handshake and search for a fellowship of readers in the solitude of writing. I think that's what all bloggers do, or are doing...looking for people 'in their shoes' to read their words, acknowledge their own similar/same experiences, and take what was a work of solitude and turn it into a shared experience.
I hope that made sense.
Meanwhile...or...actually "later": I was 'reading' "Sharp Ends", which is a series of short stories (another nuther thing I usually don't read) by Joe Abercrombie. I put reading in quotes because it's an audiobook. I love Abercrombie's books. At the end of Sharp Ends there's a ten minute interview with the narrator and Abercrombie, and they discuss "muse". Abercrombie is asked how he approaches writing. Does he wait for the muse to strike, or sit and write from 10 - 2, or other? And Abercrombie said something that I thought was smart. He said if he waited for the muse he'd never write. He said that real writing, is writing in SPITE of your muse (or lack thereof), the hardwork of writing something even though you don't really feel inspired to do so.
I think I've always known that, but again, it's nice to hear an established author talk about not really being particularly inspired, but writing through it anyway, because...it's what he does for a living. He went on to say that he sometimes IS inspired and sometimes DOES get a great idea he wants to commit to the page, but that his writing is not and can not be dependent upon that. It's too inconstant.
That, to a certain extent, is advice I need to apply directly to myself. I mean, I don't ever really want to feel like writing is a slog, or writing isn't enjoyable. But maybe abandoning writing entirely because you're at a particularly uninspired place and waiting for ideas to come to you is the wrong approach. And maybe getting into the habit of writing...on good days, on bad days, so that overall you've enjoyed the process even if a few times you felt like what you produced was complete dogshit, is the right way to do it, if you want to DO it.
I often pay lip service to the idea that I want to write, but also struggle from time to time making the effort to do so.
Anyway. I've wanted to write. And to read. And so this is some stuff that I read and it made me want to write about it. Win-win!
Our true life adventures...
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 4, 2020
Friday, January 31, 2020
Hello
Two posts in 2019. Yikes.
I always used to say that when my online friends went AWOL it was usually one of two reasons...
Things were going really well, or things were going really badly.
I don't know if there's a way to track time spent on social media, but sometime over the course of 2016 - present, I started dreading social media in general and facebook in particular. The vast majority of the dread stemmed from constant divisive political discourse. I decided twitter was easier for my psyche, but I still post sporadically on Facebook.
Often I have almost this posting paralysis. I think...I should post this, and then my brain starts analyzing it and I end up not posting. Lots of stuff going on in my head, some of which I really need to work out...guilt-type stuff, but mostly just not as engaged on social media as I once was.
And...things are going really well (see above). So *pats self on back* I was right all along!
2019 had a proposal, a wedding, a honeymoon, a pregnancy (this is a developing story), college visits, nursery planning, and much much more. But I suppose I could have taken the time to write at least SOME of it.
And the more I don't write the more I feel weird writing again. Like I somehow have to make up for all the stuff I didn't cover. Like the longer I don't write the more stuff builds up that I NEED to write about, and the more pressure I feel to either write it all...or write none of it. And so I write none of it.
I was telling Angie a week or so ago that I want to write again.
There are a lot of things I want to do. There always have been. And nobody ever has all the time they need to do all the things they want to do. But recently I started reading books again. I've never stopped..."consuming" them. I listen to audio books every day on my commute, or during walks. But I just started picking up paper books and reading those around the time we flew to Athens in June/July on our honeymoon. It felt good. It felt nostalgic. And it felt...productive(?) to choose a book over apps on my phone.
I want to draw again too. I've been watching TikToks (speaking of unproductive phone apps) of artists drawing/painting/carving...and it's so satisfying to WATCH, and I really enjoy doing it...who knows, maybe that's next.
Creative stuff in general, I guess. That's what I've been missing in general. I think somewhere in these 'pages' I once wrote about things that make me happy...I think one of those things was 'creating'...writing/drawing/etc. I have to go find that now.
But I digress. I won't say I'M BACK! But it's likely I'll try to make more time to write.
I have stuff that needs saying...heavy stuff, sad stuff, happy stuff, silly stuff. The usual.
Plus also, I'll be the father of a baby boy sometime in the late March timeframe, so I basically will have a whole shitload of new material about raising a baby at 50, etc. So...enjoy THAT shitshow.
I always used to say that when my online friends went AWOL it was usually one of two reasons...
Things were going really well, or things were going really badly.
I don't know if there's a way to track time spent on social media, but sometime over the course of 2016 - present, I started dreading social media in general and facebook in particular. The vast majority of the dread stemmed from constant divisive political discourse. I decided twitter was easier for my psyche, but I still post sporadically on Facebook.
Often I have almost this posting paralysis. I think...I should post this, and then my brain starts analyzing it and I end up not posting. Lots of stuff going on in my head, some of which I really need to work out...guilt-type stuff, but mostly just not as engaged on social media as I once was.
And...things are going really well (see above). So *pats self on back* I was right all along!
2019 had a proposal, a wedding, a honeymoon, a pregnancy (this is a developing story), college visits, nursery planning, and much much more. But I suppose I could have taken the time to write at least SOME of it.
And the more I don't write the more I feel weird writing again. Like I somehow have to make up for all the stuff I didn't cover. Like the longer I don't write the more stuff builds up that I NEED to write about, and the more pressure I feel to either write it all...or write none of it. And so I write none of it.
I was telling Angie a week or so ago that I want to write again.
There are a lot of things I want to do. There always have been. And nobody ever has all the time they need to do all the things they want to do. But recently I started reading books again. I've never stopped..."consuming" them. I listen to audio books every day on my commute, or during walks. But I just started picking up paper books and reading those around the time we flew to Athens in June/July on our honeymoon. It felt good. It felt nostalgic. And it felt...productive(?) to choose a book over apps on my phone.
I want to draw again too. I've been watching TikToks (speaking of unproductive phone apps) of artists drawing/painting/carving...and it's so satisfying to WATCH, and I really enjoy doing it...who knows, maybe that's next.
Creative stuff in general, I guess. That's what I've been missing in general. I think somewhere in these 'pages' I once wrote about things that make me happy...I think one of those things was 'creating'...writing/drawing/etc. I have to go find that now.
But I digress. I won't say I'M BACK! But it's likely I'll try to make more time to write.
I have stuff that needs saying...heavy stuff, sad stuff, happy stuff, silly stuff. The usual.
Plus also, I'll be the father of a baby boy sometime in the late March timeframe, so I basically will have a whole shitload of new material about raising a baby at 50, etc. So...enjoy THAT shitshow.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Blog Reboot
I used to write friends more emails. I approached them wrong. Social media has since replaced email and even texting as my preferred mode of communication, but I'm wondering if part of the issue with the infrequency of my blog writing of late is similar to where I went wrong with email.
For the longest time, I wrote almost daily email exchanges with friends. We'd ask and answer each other's questions as the day went by and the thread would grow until one or the other of us would start a new email chain. What we did wrong was...we let the emails get bigger and bigger, answering more questions and telling more and more stories. That sounds great, and it was, except...answering emails started turning into something I would dread. I'd look at this giant email and think, "Okay, it's going to take me at least an hour to answer this." I'd tell my story, ask my questions, and hit send. When I got the next email back, it would be even longer. Eventually I started doing the ol'..."I'll address it tomorrow" thing, and then I'd repeat that until guilt spurred me to make tomorrow today and write more.
So I think that's what's been going on to an extent with the blog. I have things to write, but it just seems like so much that I don't even want to start because it'll take forever to get to the end.
So I'm going to attempt to write more frequently, but just keep the length more reasonable. If I can. I'm...verbose.
Emma has signed up for a writing class with her English teacher for Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month). I told her that maybe I'd do the same thing for...Nanoblowmo...or whatever the fuck they call the blog writing month challenge thingy. I didn't call it Nanoblowmo to Emma. Nor did I drop the f-bomb on her.
Anyway, on that topic (writing, not f-bombs)...Emma read something out loud for Leslie and I that she wrote. It was really good. It was such a departure from the stuff she's written in the past. So much more of it was "her voice". So much less of it was...Topic Sentence/5 Supporting Sentences/Closing Sentence...that drives me batshit crazy. And she was clearly proud of it, which was great. Typically we don't get to see her work unless we force her to let us review/correct it. And maybe that's why...too much criticism. I don't know.
I made sure to heap praise on her because I'd love for her to take an interest in writing. The kid is funny as hell, bright, and tells a good story (when she collects her thoughts first)...why wouldn't that translate to good writing?
Nablopomo. I just looked it up. National Blog Posting Month. So I'll maybe do that.
So much for keeping it short so that I post more frequently. I have a post appearing on Glade Run's website in the next week or so, and I'll link here and let you know when it posts.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
The Greatest Blog Ever Posted - (Tribute)
I don't want to oversell it, but I'm currently working on "The Greatest Blog Ever Posted"*. It is so epic that it may cause divorce and jail time before it's completed.
*by me
This morning, because no time ever seems to be any less inconvenient, (boy was I wrong about that) I attempted to transfer some video that Leslie took of the kids playing with me over to my phone (so I could load it onto blogger). It's a big video. . . like three minutes. . . so it was taking "longer than it should". "Longer than it should" is code for, "I'm starting to get pissed off and stressed out. "
Let me elaborate on that. Any time I leave the room or occupy myself doing some stupid simple little thing, I do it without telling anyone what I'm doing. Why would I tell them? It's just this stupid little thing and it will take no time at all, and plus, they are not the boss of me.
So I walk out of the room, let's just say for example, to start downloading an audiobook to my phone. The downloading takes quite a while, but I'll only be gone for a second. In the example, the library has sent me an email notifying me that the book is ready. All I have to do is log in, download the zipped file to the PC (which is 30 seconds max) then let it unpack into Overdrive. I walk away during the unpacking process because it takes a half hour.
Invariably, though, the universe tosses some ridiculous curve ball at me. I log into the library's page and click the button to download, but when I open Overdrive, I have overdue books (meaning it tells me they're being deleted). . . so it deletes them. Then it informs me of an update. I sweat a little at this. . . it's going to take a TINY bit more time, but click the button. It downloads. . . installs. . . perhaps a little slower than I'd like. I start glancing at my watch, then back at the little progress bar, then back at my watch. It's only a matter of time now before I hear "The Voice". It's a ticking time bomb really. . . I go to open the file, but the new update has changed my default location so I can't find the downloaded book. Shit shit shit. . .
"Jiiiiiiiim? What are you doing?" comes The Voice from the other room.
This almost always stresses me out, because I recognize that while I'm in the office fucking around on the stupid Overdrive interface, Leslie is "handling" something solo. Maybe I even hear it start to escalate in the other room and start involuntarily drumming my fingers on the desktop muttering, "come on. . . come on. . . " under my breath, praying for things to calm down.
And I don't want to have to answer The Voice, because, goddamnit, you're not the boss of me, Voice! I'm free!!! But it's not fair that she's handling something without me, ignorant of when or if I'll be there to help her and this whole fucking problem wouldn't even have existed in the first place if this 30 second process wasn't taking "Longer Than it Should".
So stress happens and then I snap, because it's easier to yell back, "ugh! I'm on the computer, I'll be there in a second!" dripping with attitude that would make an angst-ridden adolescent proud, than it is to just give it up as a bad job and do it when we're not "handling something".
Alright, so you get the context in theory. This morning I was trying for the third time to do something that shouldn't have taken any time at all and failing, because the stupid message with the video attachment kept timing out even though I was only sending the video in parts (so that it was message-able). And so I had an epiphany. . . upload to my youtube account. Except that I forgot my login and password and while I was trying to remember them, typing variations on a repeating theme, the time bomb tick tick ticked itself down to "Jiiiiim? What are you doing?" and then I got all pissy.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Ugh, I'm trying to upload a video so I can use it in a blog!"
"I need your help here. I need you to engage."
*whithering glare* "Engage what? You're feeding Lily, Emma's feeding herself."
"Isn't there some other time you could be doing this?"
*Incredulous glare* "Like when? Like when I should be doing the taxes? Like when I should be putting kids to sleep or packing lunches? When is a good time?"
Things escalated to the raised voice stage, at which point Emma started getting weepy and I realized I was really in a fight about nothing, and calmed myself and told Emma everything was fine. And Emma (god bless her. . . REALLY. . . ) said, "I don't like when you talk to Daddy that way, Mommy, and Daddy, I don't like when you talk to Mommy that way."
And so we gave each other perfunctory apologies** and Emma went to brush her teeth.
** sidebar. . . here are some examples of perfunctory apologies:
"I'm sorry your feelings got hurt."
"I'm sorry you got angry at that."
"I'm sorry if you were offended."
Essentially you're "apologizing" that the other person is such a sensitive wussy and throwing a meaningless tantrum.
So we finished our perfunctory apologies, then got into a brief fight about what a dodge perfunctory apologies are, then exchanged actual apologies***
***sidebar. . . her are some examples of actual apologies:
"I'm sorry I chose this moment to try to do this. I'll try to find a better time when we're not so busy."
"I'm sorry I keep harping on you about trying to transfer this file, I know it's frustrating to you."
And we kissed and made up, so totally averted the divorce crisis. The jail time crisis thing was just a natural extrapolation of the whole over-dramatization of "not having any good time to do it" because I used the example of doing the file transfer instead of the taxes, and in my mind, the IRS would come and haul me away in chains for tax evasion and I'd shake my fist at Leslie while she stood with our crying children and rage over my shoulder as they stuffed me into the police cruiser, "DO YOU SEE??? THIS is what happens when you don't let me transfer the files while we're getting ready for daycare!!!! CURSE YOUuuuuuu!!" And the police cruiser would drive away and the neighbor wives would be out on the stoop in their curlers and bathrobes (because it's totally the 60's) mouthing "oh my" and covering their shock with a demure hand to to their lips.
So no jail time, and no divorce. . . but I also didn't get the file transferred.
I asked Twitter. . . how the hell do you transfer pics and videos to your hard-drive from your iPhone and after several responses, got a great suggestion from Insatiable Booksluts, which was a program that allows your PC to look at your iPhone as if it's a removable hard drive. (which, frankly, your PC should be able to do ANYWAY)
Okay. . . 1) understand that the only reason I want to know how to transfer files to the PC is because I want to upgrade my wife's iPhone to Cloud (essentially IOS 5.0). If she was on Cloud then I'd already HAVE the damn video, but also because I have more than a thousand pictures on my phone and A) It's really hard to find stuff because of all the stuff I have to wade through to get to it, and B) I want to clear up some of my memory.
Now I have a game plan. Tonight. . . sometime after the taxes, laundry, lunches packed, kids put to bed, etc, I will backup my wifes pics and videos to the PC, then upgrade her to IOS 5, then upload the video to the Greatest Blog Ever Posted*, and then sometime in the next day or so I'll hit "publish".
*by me
And then. . . unless I'm greatly overselling this. . . you will read The Greatest Blog Ever Posted*
*by me
*by me
This morning, because no time ever seems to be any less inconvenient, (boy was I wrong about that) I attempted to transfer some video that Leslie took of the kids playing with me over to my phone (so I could load it onto blogger). It's a big video. . . like three minutes. . . so it was taking "longer than it should". "Longer than it should" is code for, "I'm starting to get pissed off and stressed out. "
Let me elaborate on that. Any time I leave the room or occupy myself doing some stupid simple little thing, I do it without telling anyone what I'm doing. Why would I tell them? It's just this stupid little thing and it will take no time at all, and plus, they are not the boss of me.
So I walk out of the room, let's just say for example, to start downloading an audiobook to my phone. The downloading takes quite a while, but I'll only be gone for a second. In the example, the library has sent me an email notifying me that the book is ready. All I have to do is log in, download the zipped file to the PC (which is 30 seconds max) then let it unpack into Overdrive. I walk away during the unpacking process because it takes a half hour.
Invariably, though, the universe tosses some ridiculous curve ball at me. I log into the library's page and click the button to download, but when I open Overdrive, I have overdue books (meaning it tells me they're being deleted). . . so it deletes them. Then it informs me of an update. I sweat a little at this. . . it's going to take a TINY bit more time, but click the button. It downloads. . . installs. . . perhaps a little slower than I'd like. I start glancing at my watch, then back at the little progress bar, then back at my watch. It's only a matter of time now before I hear "The Voice". It's a ticking time bomb really. . . I go to open the file, but the new update has changed my default location so I can't find the downloaded book. Shit shit shit. . .
"Jiiiiiiiim? What are you doing?" comes The Voice from the other room.
This almost always stresses me out, because I recognize that while I'm in the office fucking around on the stupid Overdrive interface, Leslie is "handling" something solo. Maybe I even hear it start to escalate in the other room and start involuntarily drumming my fingers on the desktop muttering, "come on. . . come on. . . " under my breath, praying for things to calm down.
And I don't want to have to answer The Voice, because, goddamnit, you're not the boss of me, Voice! I'm free!!! But it's not fair that she's handling something without me, ignorant of when or if I'll be there to help her and this whole fucking problem wouldn't even have existed in the first place if this 30 second process wasn't taking "Longer Than it Should".
So stress happens and then I snap, because it's easier to yell back, "ugh! I'm on the computer, I'll be there in a second!" dripping with attitude that would make an angst-ridden adolescent proud, than it is to just give it up as a bad job and do it when we're not "handling something".
Alright, so you get the context in theory. This morning I was trying for the third time to do something that shouldn't have taken any time at all and failing, because the stupid message with the video attachment kept timing out even though I was only sending the video in parts (so that it was message-able). And so I had an epiphany. . . upload to my youtube account. Except that I forgot my login and password and while I was trying to remember them, typing variations on a repeating theme, the time bomb tick tick ticked itself down to "Jiiiiim? What are you doing?" and then I got all pissy.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Ugh, I'm trying to upload a video so I can use it in a blog!"
"I need your help here. I need you to engage."
*whithering glare* "Engage what? You're feeding Lily, Emma's feeding herself."
"Isn't there some other time you could be doing this?"
*Incredulous glare* "Like when? Like when I should be doing the taxes? Like when I should be putting kids to sleep or packing lunches? When is a good time?"
 |
| Happier days. . . soooooo long ago. I KID!!! |
And so we gave each other perfunctory apologies** and Emma went to brush her teeth.
** sidebar. . . here are some examples of perfunctory apologies:
"I'm sorry your feelings got hurt."
"I'm sorry you got angry at that."
"I'm sorry if you were offended."
Essentially you're "apologizing" that the other person is such a sensitive wussy and throwing a meaningless tantrum.
So we finished our perfunctory apologies, then got into a brief fight about what a dodge perfunctory apologies are, then exchanged actual apologies***
***sidebar. . . her are some examples of actual apologies:
"I'm sorry I chose this moment to try to do this. I'll try to find a better time when we're not so busy."
"I'm sorry I keep harping on you about trying to transfer this file, I know it's frustrating to you."
And we kissed and made up, so totally averted the divorce crisis. The jail time crisis thing was just a natural extrapolation of the whole over-dramatization of "not having any good time to do it" because I used the example of doing the file transfer instead of the taxes, and in my mind, the IRS would come and haul me away in chains for tax evasion and I'd shake my fist at Leslie while she stood with our crying children and rage over my shoulder as they stuffed me into the police cruiser, "DO YOU SEE??? THIS is what happens when you don't let me transfer the files while we're getting ready for daycare!!!! CURSE YOUuuuuuu!!" And the police cruiser would drive away and the neighbor wives would be out on the stoop in their curlers and bathrobes (because it's totally the 60's) mouthing "oh my" and covering their shock with a demure hand to to their lips.
So no jail time, and no divorce. . . but I also didn't get the file transferred.
I asked Twitter. . . how the hell do you transfer pics and videos to your hard-drive from your iPhone and after several responses, got a great suggestion from Insatiable Booksluts, which was a program that allows your PC to look at your iPhone as if it's a removable hard drive. (which, frankly, your PC should be able to do ANYWAY)
Okay. . . 1) understand that the only reason I want to know how to transfer files to the PC is because I want to upgrade my wife's iPhone to Cloud (essentially IOS 5.0). If she was on Cloud then I'd already HAVE the damn video, but also because I have more than a thousand pictures on my phone and A) It's really hard to find stuff because of all the stuff I have to wade through to get to it, and B) I want to clear up some of my memory.
Now I have a game plan. Tonight. . . sometime after the taxes, laundry, lunches packed, kids put to bed, etc, I will backup my wifes pics and videos to the PC, then upgrade her to IOS 5, then upload the video to the Greatest Blog Ever Posted*, and then sometime in the next day or so I'll hit "publish".
*by me
And then. . . unless I'm greatly overselling this. . . you will read The Greatest Blog Ever Posted*
*by me
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Inspiration in Unexpected Places
I had decided I was giving Facebook another chance. I wasn't using it, and honestly didn't really like it, but I was giving it another chance.
My first exposure to Facebook was forced, a vetting of a "new site" to see the pros and cons. And although the initial week or so was filled with borderline amazing "ohmygodyou'restillalive?" moments, after about a month, all my 'friends' kept sending me painfully annoying shit from Farmville. Why? Why are you doing this, friends? So after I deleted them, and blocked Farmville apps, and then made myself unsearchable so I could avoid feeling guilty about not accepting their repeat friend requests, it really limited whatever utility Facebook ever had in the first place. So my profile collected dust.
I figured, okay, I'll try it again; I'll really get into it, comment the hell out of people I know, post stuff, look at their stupid lives and feign interest (teasing, of course). . . and for whatever reason I was looking for Autism charities and "liked" Autism Speaks' profile. I have since read a lot of negative shit about Autism Speaks, but I didn't know any of that then, (not sure that would have mattered regardless) and I knew who they were, and Lily is on the spectrum and so I "liked" them but didn't realize that meant I would start immediately getting aggressively invasive updates and statuses and stuff from them, because I was still pretty green about how Facebook "worked".
One of the first statuses I got from them was a link to Lou's Blog. Or, more precisely, a link to the video that Lou had posted on his blog "Fixing Autism". And I'm like, "alright, I'll go look at this video". So I did. Well, about one minute in, I was crying like someone stole my last Cheeto and had to close the door of my office for the duration of the video and compose myself. His daughter could have been my daughter. It was no great stretch to put myself in his place and empathize totally and completely. I forwarded it to my wife.
Admittedly I don't remember much about the slips of paper he presented showing stats or his arguments for why autism is under-researched/funded. What I did remember were these words ". . . I can guarantee that she will be the best Bianca she can be", that I adapted to my own promise to Lily, "I will help you to be the best Lily you can be." They sent a thrill up my spine when I saw them. They communicated directly with my heart. That was what I wanted for Lily. I don't necessarily agree with everything Lou's video says (I don't disagree either, but I can't remember it all, and until I buy more tissues for my office I'm not watching it again), but I think it's safe to say that, without knowing what Lily will become, I will help her to become the best whatever that she can be.
Afterward, I followed Lou's video back to his blog. And after I read his blog, I linked to a few others. And then I started following them, and commenting them.
I'd always blogged, but it had been a diary of sorts. I still enjoyed the writing, and even enjoyed rereading what I'd written (on occasion) but I wasn't necessarily writing for others. If a tree tells an amusing story in the forest and nobody's there to hear it, does it make a sound? I don't know, but I had been blogging with nobody but me to read it. So I thought. . . why not make a blog that I intend for people who are not me to read. . . then actually go out and find other like-minded bloggers and follow them and get little insights into what other parents with kids on the spectrum do?
I'm pretty guarded about my emotions in general, but I find writing cathartic, and when I'm doing it, I feel almost disconnected from the emotion of the words, an impassive narrator of the story instead of a character living it, shielded from that feeling of "laying it all out there" by the screen, or the page. I can say things in writing that I'm uncomfortable saying face-to-face.
I've been a participant in Lily's meetings and therapies and feeding all her life. I just haven't been an active participant. Or at least as active as I needed to be. My wife started to notice I was doing more with Lily. I was trying to feed her more (often an extremely stressful and frustrating task). I was more patient with her. I was taking her to the grocery store and to the eye doctor and other things. The more time I spent with her, the more time I wanted to spend with her. I didn't seem to matter whether we were having good times or bad times. . . we were sharing time, and that's what mattered. And I still lost my temper and patience, but I handled the bumps along the way with a little more grace, understanding, compassion and forgiveness. My wife attributes the improvement to Lou's video.
Personally, I think I'd been making a concerted effort for months, and she just finally noticed, but . . . I'll give her the benefit of the doubt.
I still have very little use for Facebook. I find that most of the time I spend commenting or interacting goes unnoticed and unrequited, and I'd probably delete it if it hadn't insinuated itself so ubiquitously across platforms and websites to the point where not having it means not having access to other things. But it did introduce me to Lou's Blog. . . and Lou's Blog woke me up from my parental stupor and introduced me to a whole community of parents of autistic kids, some venting rage/sorrow, some injecting much-needed humor into stressful topics; a faceless support network that I probably didn't even know I needed.
I like to think I can handle all life brings me without needing anyone's help or comfort. My carefully cultivated emotionless pseudo Vulcan exterior is more comfortable for me than the feeling of being beholden to anyone or of having to talk about "feelings" in the first place. But the past has taught me that although maybe I can handle it, it's easier, it's better, it's more manageable and less stressful to have the help and support of friends who know what you're going through. Even if some of those friends are faceless.
My first exposure to Facebook was forced, a vetting of a "new site" to see the pros and cons. And although the initial week or so was filled with borderline amazing "ohmygodyou'restillalive?" moments, after about a month, all my 'friends' kept sending me painfully annoying shit from Farmville. Why? Why are you doing this, friends? So after I deleted them, and blocked Farmville apps, and then made myself unsearchable so I could avoid feeling guilty about not accepting their repeat friend requests, it really limited whatever utility Facebook ever had in the first place. So my profile collected dust.
I figured, okay, I'll try it again; I'll really get into it, comment the hell out of people I know, post stuff, look at their stupid lives and feign interest (teasing, of course). . . and for whatever reason I was looking for Autism charities and "liked" Autism Speaks' profile. I have since read a lot of negative shit about Autism Speaks, but I didn't know any of that then, (not sure that would have mattered regardless) and I knew who they were, and Lily is on the spectrum and so I "liked" them but didn't realize that meant I would start immediately getting aggressively invasive updates and statuses and stuff from them, because I was still pretty green about how Facebook "worked".
One of the first statuses I got from them was a link to Lou's Blog. Or, more precisely, a link to the video that Lou had posted on his blog "Fixing Autism". And I'm like, "alright, I'll go look at this video". So I did. Well, about one minute in, I was crying like someone stole my last Cheeto and had to close the door of my office for the duration of the video and compose myself. His daughter could have been my daughter. It was no great stretch to put myself in his place and empathize totally and completely. I forwarded it to my wife.
Admittedly I don't remember much about the slips of paper he presented showing stats or his arguments for why autism is under-researched/funded. What I did remember were these words ". . . I can guarantee that she will be the best Bianca she can be", that I adapted to my own promise to Lily, "I will help you to be the best Lily you can be." They sent a thrill up my spine when I saw them. They communicated directly with my heart. That was what I wanted for Lily. I don't necessarily agree with everything Lou's video says (I don't disagree either, but I can't remember it all, and until I buy more tissues for my office I'm not watching it again), but I think it's safe to say that, without knowing what Lily will become, I will help her to become the best whatever that she can be.
Afterward, I followed Lou's video back to his blog. And after I read his blog, I linked to a few others. And then I started following them, and commenting them.
I'd always blogged, but it had been a diary of sorts. I still enjoyed the writing, and even enjoyed rereading what I'd written (on occasion) but I wasn't necessarily writing for others. If a tree tells an amusing story in the forest and nobody's there to hear it, does it make a sound? I don't know, but I had been blogging with nobody but me to read it. So I thought. . . why not make a blog that I intend for people who are not me to read. . . then actually go out and find other like-minded bloggers and follow them and get little insights into what other parents with kids on the spectrum do?
I'm pretty guarded about my emotions in general, but I find writing cathartic, and when I'm doing it, I feel almost disconnected from the emotion of the words, an impassive narrator of the story instead of a character living it, shielded from that feeling of "laying it all out there" by the screen, or the page. I can say things in writing that I'm uncomfortable saying face-to-face.
I've been a participant in Lily's meetings and therapies and feeding all her life. I just haven't been an active participant. Or at least as active as I needed to be. My wife started to notice I was doing more with Lily. I was trying to feed her more (often an extremely stressful and frustrating task). I was more patient with her. I was taking her to the grocery store and to the eye doctor and other things. The more time I spent with her, the more time I wanted to spend with her. I didn't seem to matter whether we were having good times or bad times. . . we were sharing time, and that's what mattered. And I still lost my temper and patience, but I handled the bumps along the way with a little more grace, understanding, compassion and forgiveness. My wife attributes the improvement to Lou's video.
Personally, I think I'd been making a concerted effort for months, and she just finally noticed, but . . . I'll give her the benefit of the doubt.
I still have very little use for Facebook. I find that most of the time I spend commenting or interacting goes unnoticed and unrequited, and I'd probably delete it if it hadn't insinuated itself so ubiquitously across platforms and websites to the point where not having it means not having access to other things. But it did introduce me to Lou's Blog. . . and Lou's Blog woke me up from my parental stupor and introduced me to a whole community of parents of autistic kids, some venting rage/sorrow, some injecting much-needed humor into stressful topics; a faceless support network that I probably didn't even know I needed.
I like to think I can handle all life brings me without needing anyone's help or comfort. My carefully cultivated emotionless pseudo Vulcan exterior is more comfortable for me than the feeling of being beholden to anyone or of having to talk about "feelings" in the first place. But the past has taught me that although maybe I can handle it, it's easier, it's better, it's more manageable and less stressful to have the help and support of friends who know what you're going through. Even if some of those friends are faceless.
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