On my day (again)
Aug. 18th, 2005 01:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
conuly
First, 'dul stole his metrocard, so I had to pay to ride the bus to get to the zoo. It seems like every bus I take has somebody just learning to drive it lately. I mightn't've bothered, except that we have these crackers to use up.
So, we go to the zoo, and we look at the fish, and we look at all the African animals, and we finally end up at the petting zoo, where we use up the crackers (Ana still remembers her near-bite of last week, and would barely consent to let the animals have crackers at all, and I had to feed them), and then go play in the sandbox.
After a while, a family comes by. I'm mostly watching Ana and reading, so I'm not paying attention, but I do hear this conversation about numbers - 7 and 5 is 11, or 12. Now, before I get into my story, this conversation was partially interesting for the subject matter, but more so because it sounded to me like one person speaking in two voices. Eventually I turn around, see it's a person and a kid (a mom and her son, but I wasn't paying that much attention), and turn around. I guess she must've thought I was critical, though, because she asks me what my problem is. (Good thing I was in a good mood, or this would've gone much differently, because you know I can blow up at people sometimes.) Since I didn't have a problem (and if I had, I wouldn't've said so, I'm not that suicidal), I said as much, prompting the reply: "Well, he's autistic".
*blinkblinkblink*
I didn't mean to say it, actually, but my response flew out before I could stop it: "So am I".
Which was the right response, as we had a nice conversation, and I did explain that at six I was probably more high-functioning-seeming than her son appeared to be from the short time I saw him (I couldn't get any sort of diagnosis, remember? Though that is also partly because it was hard to get diagnosed as autistic if you could talk back then (certainly my lack of diagnosis wasn't due to my parents not trying), so maybe he would be in the same boat?) though of course, I only remember what I saw then, I don't remember what other people saw.
But we changed subjects a lot, because real-time conversations are like that.
Anyway, it got late, and Ana needed a nap (something made clear when she threw sand all over me, and it got in my bra and everything, itchy itchy), so I left. Gave her my LJ URL, though. How arrogant. I could've given her the URL to autistics.org or askanaspie.com, or that site about curing neurotypicals (I love that site, must track it down again), but no, I give her my own journal's URL.
Well, I intended to just nudge her towards my various spectrum friends, really - she seems like a nice person, if a bit more cure oriented than I would like. I can only speak for myself, of course - but then, so can she. That's fairness. I speak for Connie, she speaks for... um... okay, I forget her name, but anyway, and her sons speak for themselves, except the baby, because he can't speak yet. He's a baby. Or maybe he can speak, he looked little though. And occasionally I pipe up for my Diagnosed Low Functioning friends who have made their views on the subject painfully clear, but I feel really bad every time I do that.
And a tangent - I think Ana is on her way to knowing her colors. A little while ago, she pointed at my shirt and went "shirt pink?" (which it was). Today, it was "toe green" (and it was, very odd). But I can't get her to repeat the feat, or to point, say, to the blue ball, or the red cup. So it's all very inconclusive. I think I'll just work on pointing out colors in the future. She's positively brilliant, she'll get it :)
I'm going to re-write my disclaimer a bit, make sure it's clear that yes, I can be rude on purpose. The only thing I promise is that if you ask, I'll tell you whether or not I meant to offend, and, if so, why.
So, we go to the zoo, and we look at the fish, and we look at all the African animals, and we finally end up at the petting zoo, where we use up the crackers (Ana still remembers her near-bite of last week, and would barely consent to let the animals have crackers at all, and I had to feed them), and then go play in the sandbox.
After a while, a family comes by. I'm mostly watching Ana and reading, so I'm not paying attention, but I do hear this conversation about numbers - 7 and 5 is 11, or 12. Now, before I get into my story, this conversation was partially interesting for the subject matter, but more so because it sounded to me like one person speaking in two voices. Eventually I turn around, see it's a person and a kid (a mom and her son, but I wasn't paying that much attention), and turn around. I guess she must've thought I was critical, though, because she asks me what my problem is. (Good thing I was in a good mood, or this would've gone much differently, because you know I can blow up at people sometimes.) Since I didn't have a problem (and if I had, I wouldn't've said so, I'm not that suicidal), I said as much, prompting the reply: "Well, he's autistic".
*blinkblinkblink*
I didn't mean to say it, actually, but my response flew out before I could stop it: "So am I".
Which was the right response, as we had a nice conversation, and I did explain that at six I was probably more high-functioning-seeming than her son appeared to be from the short time I saw him (I couldn't get any sort of diagnosis, remember? Though that is also partly because it was hard to get diagnosed as autistic if you could talk back then (certainly my lack of diagnosis wasn't due to my parents not trying), so maybe he would be in the same boat?) though of course, I only remember what I saw then, I don't remember what other people saw.
But we changed subjects a lot, because real-time conversations are like that.
Anyway, it got late, and Ana needed a nap (something made clear when she threw sand all over me, and it got in my bra and everything, itchy itchy), so I left. Gave her my LJ URL, though. How arrogant. I could've given her the URL to autistics.org or askanaspie.com, or that site about curing neurotypicals (I love that site, must track it down again), but no, I give her my own journal's URL.
Well, I intended to just nudge her towards my various spectrum friends, really - she seems like a nice person, if a bit more cure oriented than I would like. I can only speak for myself, of course - but then, so can she. That's fairness. I speak for Connie, she speaks for... um... okay, I forget her name, but anyway, and her sons speak for themselves, except the baby, because he can't speak yet. He's a baby. Or maybe he can speak, he looked little though. And occasionally I pipe up for my Diagnosed Low Functioning friends who have made their views on the subject painfully clear, but I feel really bad every time I do that.
And a tangent - I think Ana is on her way to knowing her colors. A little while ago, she pointed at my shirt and went "shirt pink?" (which it was). Today, it was "toe green" (and it was, very odd). But I can't get her to repeat the feat, or to point, say, to the blue ball, or the red cup. So it's all very inconclusive. I think I'll just work on pointing out colors in the future. She's positively brilliant, she'll get it :)
I'm going to re-write my disclaimer a bit, make sure it's clear that yes, I can be rude on purpose. The only thing I promise is that if you ask, I'll tell you whether or not I meant to offend, and, if so, why.
