I’m not perfect

and I know it. Frankly, I’m happy to spend January ranting about my imperfections. That’s something I’ve noticed about people on the spectrum, they can critique a person a thing, including themselves, both “positive” and “negative”, with (generally speaking) much more objectivity than a neurotypical. We’re describing facts and observations, not judgements one way or the other.

I don’t care if you understand that in spending this month ranting about the jerks who fill the shit bucket of my past, or I should say, I care enough to explain myself, or at least acknowledge that I’m not perfect and I am all too aware of it. My moods are wonky and unpredictable, despite my Vulcan-like “norm” (which in some ways I find more straight shooting and standard than most people). My sleep patterns have always been a mess. I have little tolerance for white lies, even the tiny hypocricies of every day life most nuerotypicals take for granted (or more accurately, want everyone else to pretend they’re not engaging in). As a friend or partner I can be hot and heavy in the beginning (often as a result of loneliness) then seemingly luke-warm as the friendship continues (despite the fact that I feel the same way about people). And that’s another thing, I’m not good at the normal social niceties. Like, I don’t tend to say hi to people I really care about, not verbally anyway, or ask about them; I just assume people pick it up (as I can with them with a slight glance) so am constantly missing the opportunity to lift them up with simple words. As a father I could have done better, but to be fair, I gave my all to someone (and her mother) who I owed nothing. These past six or seven years I’m shit at getting back to people, even after reaching out to them and saying, “Let’s get coffee!”. I can be so hyper focused on something (like photography) I don’t see (or at least verbally acknowledge) what’s going on around me (something neurotypicals typically need). I can be overly cynical. I don’t have much tolerance for ignorance or superstition. When I’m trying not to mask I can overcompensate by saying things I know will push people over. I’ve hurt people, many people, I’ve cared about, even when I know they don’t live in the same world as I’m able to. I can be impatient, God I can be impatience. And the only “sin” I think exists, taking away someone else’s choices, is something I too have committed. And much, much more.

So if you’re reading this month’s posts and thinking, “What a douch bag!” then you’re not getting it. I get that I have my faults, but they’re not sharing straight forward facts about people who have taken the piss. If you’re reading a lot of emotions into these posts then trust me, it’s not there. I’m typing and sharing as I do other things (mostly photography related). I’m using this all as an exercise in writing again. And I’d like to highlight these folks who have been living in my head so it’s all out in the open and I can say to myself I’ve had my say then go off and do something more productive.

That’s about it.

Aslynn