Ten Fascinating Things About Me

 Here goes. Ten utterly fascinating things about me. Using 'fascinating' in the sense of 'mind-numbing'....

1. I've never had a sister (I have one older brother) though I do have two excellent sister-in-laws, Mick's sister Janette and my brother's wife, Nicole. Likewise, I will never have a daughter. One day I may have a daughter-in-law or three. I'm hoping they'll be excellent too. 
2. My middle name is Faye with an 'e'. Clearly, or I would have spelt it Fay. 
3. I lived with my parents until I was 23 when I moved in with Micky Blue Eyes so it's distinctly possible that I've lived a sheltered life. In Boganville. I find this ironic.
4. I went to Holland with my parents when I was 10 years old in 1981. This seems destined to be my first and last overseas trip. Sigh. 
5. I'm starting to wonder if I'm in peri-menopause as my moods are somewhat erratic: I'm joyous then weeping then feeling like I could punch the next person who glances sideways at me then having a panic attack then joyous again and around it goes..... Totally normal, right?
6. I was 26 weeks pregnant with Mr 12 in 2001 before I noticed this minor detail. Oops.
7. I lost a little man when I had a still birth 19 weeks into the pregnancy in 2007. 
8. I was diagnosed with Asperger's in 2011 at age 40. 
9. I have 150 plus Facebook 'friends' but my closest real life friend is my friend Kim, who was born five days before me and is the smartest person in the whole World - because she's my friend obviously - and because she doesn't use Facebook or any social media at all. 
10. I am shamefully hopeless when it comes to taking and organising photos. I have boxes of them stashed in cupboards instead of sorted into albums. I tried to find some photos of Kimmy and my sister-in-laws to post here and I could only find ones that are really old. So guess what? No photos. You are saved the embarrassment. You can thank me later. 

Two Ten things I love....

1. Karen Carpenter
2. Cakies
3. Karen Carpenter
4. Cakies
5. Karen Carpenter
6. Cakies
7. Karen Carpenter
8. Cakies
9. Karen Carpenter
10. Oh yeah, I have kids. They're alright, too. 

Ten things I would like to ban from the World forever...

1. Lego 
2. Lego
3. Lego
4. Lego
5. Lego
6. Lego
7. Lego
8. Lego
9. Lego - and, finally..
10. Lego

Okay, that's only one thing as such but it's one thing that means A MILLION pieces so it counts as ten! Shut up. 

Ten Reasons To End This Pointless Post...

1. I have house work to do.
2. I have nothing remotely interesting to say about myself. 
3. I have exercise to do. 
4. I've wasted the whole morning coming up with absolutely nothing of any note to say about myself.
5. There are such entertaining day time television programmes on that I'm missing. 
6. It's lunch time and I might turn into one of those strange people who forget to eat.
7. I have important places to be and important people to see. 
8. There must be a million other things I could be doing.
9. I think I may be procrastinating just a teensy, tiny bit. 
10. All of the above.

Ten Counter Points To The Above List...

1. House work sucks.
2. That's never stopped you before.
3. You can do it later - why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?
4. At least you didn't waste it doing house work.
5. Since when have infomercials about funeral insurance been entertaining? (Although, you have to admit a bit of Dr Phil is sometimes entertaining).
6. Rahahahahaha!
7. Well, I can imagine I do. Shut up.
8. Meh, it's only a million. Do them later. See counter point number 3. 
9. You think?
10. Details. Hmph! 

Okay, I think I'm done now. I'm off to find ten more ways to procrastinate. I'll spare you the list this time. You're welcome.

Linking up with Musings of The Misguided for The Lounge.

                                               What are ten ways to procrastinate?

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An Idyllic Day

Long ago and far away in the fun and fabulous days of our former bogan existence, life was full of exciting bogan adventures. These adventures often included the wonderful, idyllic days we referred to as our 'Family Fun Days'. This was using the word fun in the same sense of the expression 'Fun Run'. Oxymoron, anyone?  When I remember those grand and glorious days my eyes become misty and I am filled with bittersweet nostalgia.

I recall waking on a Sunday morning feeling zombie like and ancient refreshed and energetic.Micky Blue Eyes hands me a lovely, frothy vegetable juice fresh from the juicer. With beaming eyes he  then utters the fateful words:

"Why don't we go out today for a Family Fun Day?"

Evidently making me drink those juices isn't quite enough torture. The boys greet this suggestion with all the enthusiasm they usually reserve for doing their homework and cleaning their rooms.

On my ideal day I wouldn't wake up to this

"NOOOOO!!" Mr 11 is wild eyed and frantic, while Mr 9 can barely manage a low, pitiful moaning of dull despair. There was no escape. Once Micky Blue Eyes made up his mind we were doomed.

Previous outings had involved driving somewhere in the car. Now, however, we had discovered the "Family Fun Day'.This meant we could purchase a train ticket from Boganville into the city for a family and it would only cost around ten bucks, Mick decided this was a bargain that these non cashed up bogans couldn't miss.

Reluctantly, I showered, dressed and we bundled into the car to drive to the train station.

"Have you got the pram and everything?" I asked as Mick reversed the car from the driveway. He assured me we did and we set off. We parked a block or so away from the station and walked there, avoiding eye contact with the usual unsavoury types loitering around the station negotiating drug deals or whatever it is that they do there. Not sure.  Boganville. So classy. Sigh.

Upon boarding the train, I was assigned to 'stroller sit' while Mick ventured down into the carriage to attempt the impossible. Make three boys with raging testosterone, including a hyperactive three year old sit still and be quiet for the duration of the journey. Good luck with that, I thought as I happily assumed position next to the stroller which was laden with all the essentials for a family day out.

Several minutes passed as the train hurtled along the tracks. At the next stop two young dudes boarded the train and I eavesdropped on their interesting conversation about weed, until they got off a few stops later, possibly to score more weed. Not sure.

At this point, Mick and the boys clambered back up from below. Mr 8 needed to blow his nose. I scrambled in my handbag for a tissue, but came out empty-handed.

"Oh, can't I just wipe it on my shirt?" he wailed.

"NO!" we both shouted, simultaneously. Thankfully, he refrained. We had to resort to using a piece of paper. So elegant.

It was at this point that we realised we had forgotten Mr 3's bag with the change of clothes. Just in case. We could only cross our fingers and pray that he didn't present us with what is known in the Bogan Box as a Mt. Tomah Moment. This refers to the time we went to the Mt. Tomah Botanic Gardens for a picnic and Mr 11 who was then Mr 2 decided to poop his entire body weight, and we had forgotten the nappy bag. Charming.

We finally disembarked at Central station, upon discovering that the train lines were closed, so we would have to walk all the way to the Botanic Gardens. Immediately, the hustle and bustle of the city was completely over-whelming for this Aspergirl. I pondered with some wonder, how I had ever managed to work there a decade ago.

Plodding on , we schlepped up George Street. The boys spotted a Maccas in the distance like a mirage. However there seemed to be even more ratbags and feral bogans loitering around George Street than there were back in our beloved Boganville, so we pressed on until we found another Maccas where the boys filled up on nuggets and fries. After this, we strolled through a rather snazzy and upmarket shopping mall, where I proceeded to go into full on Aspie sensory overload from all the bright shinyness.  Fluorescent lights bouncing off shiny floors, garish Christmas decorations added to the overall effect which resulted in me feeling nauseous.

Feeling sick and light-headed we trudged back past Gucci and Prada.I pondered the fact that even if I had the bucks to shop there, I couldn't stand all the lights and brightness. But I guess that's what online shopping if for, should I ever win lotto.  Eventually we reached the Botanic Gardens where we sat and watched the boats sailing by on the harbour, for a blissful half hour. Mr 3 chased birds around. The other two boys whined that they were bored, shattering our short lived bliss. So it was on to Chinatown, where we had some Chinese food.

While there, Mr 8 exclaimed loudly "Why are there so many Chinese people here? It's FREAKING ME OUT!!"

Awkward. Ahem.

We purchased some fresh fruit at the markets before heading back to Boganville, relieved that yet another Family 'Fun' Day had finally finished.  Just like so many previous ones, which included:

• Visiting Cronulla Beach. It pissed rain.
• Visiting the Blue Mountains. Froze our bogan bums off.
• Visiting the Central Coast by train. We spent most of the day on the train, where we also had to change a 'Mt. Tomah' style nappy while in a cramped country train vestibule trying to hang on for dear life. So. Much. Fun.

I must confess those Family Fun Days were not exactly my ideal day out. We did manage to come close to something resembling my ideal day out recently. During the school holidays we decided to drive to Megalong Valley. On the way up the mountain we stopped at a cake shop. CAKIES! Then at a Vinnies. BOOKS! A day that involves books, cakies and minimum stress is my ideal day out. After this we went for a bush walk, then went to the Megalong Valley Tea Rooms where we had scones with jam and cream. More cakies! Sort of. Not really. But still good. It was a relaxing day out for a change. Still, I can't help feeling like my ideal day at the moment wouldn't really be a day out at all, but a day in.

Alone. Just me, my books, cakies and Carpenters.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

 

What is your ideal day out? Or would you prefer a day in, like me?

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Being Different & The Diagnonsense Part Two

It was convoluted path to diagnonsense.  Perhaps it was the fact that I turned 40 last year so therefore I decided to quietly have a mid-life crisis and ponder over my life like the deep and intellectual thinker I am. ie. A total off with the pixies space cadet.  But I was giving this Asparagus thing a bit of thought and then coincidentally picked up a book about it in Target  called Being Different by John Elder Robison.

I took it home, read it. Upon reading the diagnostic criteria I was fairly convinced I was Aspie.  I Googled a bit more which seemed to confirm my suspicions.  Funnily enough I'd seen counsellors and shrinks on and off for many years, yet when it came to this I basically had to figure it out for myself! It's amazing how people go undiagnosed for years, especially females. 

I trotted back to yet another shrink to receive the official 'diagnonsense'.  This involved answering a gazillion questions.  She then saw my mum also and asked her a gazillion questions. 

I suppose I could waste a lot of energy wondering if it would have made any difference knowing 30 years ago. It doesn't really matter.  That time is over. What matters is I know now. So I have to stop being so hard on myself and accept the way I am. Not make comparisons with outgoing NT people. NT means Neuro Typical, in other words those people without Aspergers.  I'll nick the term Nypical and use that, I think. Still working on that to be perfectly honest.  It's something I have to keep on reminding myself on a day to day basis.

It also turns out that I am in very good company.  Famous people in history who are believed to possibly be Aspie include Albert Einstein, Vincent Van Gogh and Wolfgang Amedeus Mozzart.  So clearly I too am a genius.  I have absolutely no idea what my genius like talent is, but any day now I'm sure it will become obvious. I hope. Maybe. Soon. Hmmm..oh well. Sigh.

As well as savant like talents or gifts Aspie people are known to have restricted and repetive interests that are often abnormal in intensity and focus.  This has worked out to be very useful in life for me.  My abnormal interest is of course...drum roll please...ta daaa! :  Carpenters/Karen Carpenter.

 Very useful indeed. I can helpfully remember the words to every single Carpenters song, yet I can't remember where I put my keys or glasses five minutes ago. Handy.

This obsession has also enabled me to participate in some intense forum discussions on karencarpenter.com on truly important issues such as the shape of Karen Carpenter's eyebrows and the relative benefits of Goofus vs Beechwood 45789.

For  the record, Beechwood is pure GOLD, I'm telling you, and that critic who said that if the Carpenters were going to record drek like that they should have gotten unlisted numbers, is a very nasty man indeed. Hmph.

After all they are the duo responsible for voicing THE most important question of the 20th Century : Why do birds suddenly appear, everytime you are near?

I'm also completely useless at anything involving organisational skills due to impaired executive function. This is a psychological term which refers to organisational and planning abilites, working memory and other complicated stuff  that frankly I can't remember. See?

At least that's now my excuse, so I'm sticking to it.  I'd always felt that part of my brain was somehow missing, (the part that should be logical and organised) yet to try to describe this to anyone would just sound like I was making an elaborate excuse for being lazy.  Imagine my relief to find it was not a figment of my imagination after all but a real part of my Ass Burgers.

In finishing,I would  like to list these affirmations for Aspie's written by author Lianne Holliday Willey that I like to remind myself:

• I am not defective, I am different
• I will not sacrifice my self worth for peer acceptance
• I am a good and interesting person
• I will take pride in myself
• I am capable of getting along with society
• I will ask for help when I need it
• I am a person who is worthy of others' respect and acceptance
• I will find a career interest that is well suited to my abilities and interests (I'm not sure how this one works for me, don't expect there are many job vacancies for a Carpenters obsessed nut)
• I will be patient with those who need time to understand me.
• I am never going to give up on myself.
• I will accept myself for who I am.

Yep, so I will accept myself for who I am.  A socially awkward, anxiety prone, Carpenters obsessed Aspergirl. Brilliant.

Linking up with The Lounge over at Musings Of The Misguided.

*Tries to think of a leading, thought provoking question to ask at the end of the post...and comes up with...NOTHING.* Oops. Um, why DO birds suddenly appear every time you are near?

What? Not a great question? Look, if it was good enough for Karen, it's good for me, okay? HMPH.

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Being Different & The Diagnonsense

Last year, at age 40, I found out that I officially am an Aspie.  Meaning a person with Aspergers Syndrome. Or Asparagus Syndrome as it often referred to.  When it is not being referred to as Ass Burgers Syndrome. 

Ass Burgers Syndrome is an Autism Specrum disorder (to quote Wikipedia ) that is characterised by significant difficulties in social interactions alongside restricted and repetive patterns of behaviour. That's the Reader's Digest abridged definition anyway.

I don't know at what age specifically I realised there was something slightly different about me. Most likely not until I started school. My parents probably noticed early on that my brother and I were (and  still are) vastly different temperaments.  Him being quite social, reputedly dancing at one get together as a toddler until his little legs refused to go on and then sitting down and bopping on. Me being quite the opposite and always wanting to go home whenever my parents took us out anywhere.

Samantha and I. I was about 10

I loved dogs and books.  My nose was always in a book as soon as I could read.   Especially Enid Blyton ones.  I was so quiet, Mum often had to check where I was, to see if I was okay. Usually she found me curled up with the dog.  We had a black and tan dachshund named Samantha. I'd named her that after Samantha from Bewitched which I loved.  Now it's obvious why I might not have grown up with much grip on reality loving such things, as I've mentioned before.

In spite of being painfully shy and quiet, apparently I could talk very clearly when I wanted to. So I never really had any speech or developmental delays . I was just a shy kid.

 It's true, I was and am shy.  I think that's a  different thing or trait than Aspergers. After all I'm sure that not every Aspie is shy.  So it's hard to say exactly how much of my behaviours are shyness and how much is from Aspergers. For example, eye contact.  I still find this impossible.

As a baby only a handful of priveleged people apparently had the honour of being able to hold me.  A couple of Aunties only, and my parents.  With anybody else I screamed.

Whenever Mum took me into one Aunty's kitchen I became very distressed at the sight of the very busy patterned wallpaper.  Obviously it was just sensory overload for me, however I would like to think that even as an infant I already had exquisite taste and thought: "Oh my GOD! Look at that hideous 1970's wallpaper...NOOOOOOOOO!!!"

In fact I still detest fleurescent lights with a passion.  I will often wear my sunglasses in shopping centres, receiving the odd stare from people who probably think I'm a complete wanker who thinks she's as cool as Bono.

The most noticeable Aspie trait I had ( and still have) is rocking backwards and forwards or jumping up and down on the spot. It's too bad I didn't keep the latter one into adulthood, because I sure need the exercise. These behaviours are referred to as 'stimming' in Aspie talk.

I wasn't a great student unless the teacher was particularly pushy with me.  This was mainly due to being an off with the pixies space cadet too busy daydreaming during class.  I'd only listen if it was something that interested me and tune everything else out.  I ended up being good at reading and consequently spelling and written expression.  I was fair to terrible with everything else.

Making friends was hard, but I managed to have one or two in primary  school.  At this stage when I was still interested in Barbie dolls I had something in common with other girls.  This changed later in High School where I ended up virtually friendless.  I had nothing in common with other girls who were interested in boys and liked Duran Duran while I was starting my Carpenters obsession.  This obsession has persisted to this day. Yes, I know, I am...seriously...weird.  Still at least I have my Ass Burgers as an excuse. I've met others online who are just as obsessed or worse. (You know who you are.)

More about my diagnonsense (as my friend Randa calls it)  next time...I'm going to play Carpenters.

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(It's Just Not) Working Girl

Today I am linking this old post with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess: My First Job.


Recently I happened to watch the retro movie Working Girl starring Melanie Griffith on TV.  The one where everyone was suffering from serious Tragic Eighties Syndrome.

 Mick pointed out to me that I too once sported a mop of Tragic Eighties style hair just like Ms Griffith in the film. See above left.  Okay, mine was far worse than Melanie's. Or 'Tess' as she was in the film. See below.  Sadly, my Tragic Eighties hair was the only potential similarity I had to the character of Tess.

It was becoming increasingly clear to me from an early age that I could never hope to be a career woman. The grand finale of the film where Tess is given her own office while Carly Simon belts out an inspiring chorus of "Let The River Run" in the background, was never going to be a scene that would play out in my life. 

It all started the first time I attempted to get a part time job in high school.  I wasn't really sure if I wanted one, but it seemed like the thing everyone did.    The obvious choice was a job at Macca's ie. McDonald's.  I dutifully filled out the application form.  I needed a reference. I asked a teacher who worked wonders at finding tactful, polite things to say about me when in reality if he'd written the truth it would have read something like "Vanessa never utters a single word, or makes eye contact.  Ever. Hire someone else."

After only two weeks of the preliminary training I was fired.  This did not bode well for a future career.  Let's face it, if you can't even manage Macca's, future CEO (or anything) is looking pretty unlikely. 

A year or two later I stumbled out of high school, with absolutely no idea of what to do.  So I signed up for a two year TAFE course in Library Practice.  Seemingly the perfect choice for the quiet, shy nerd-girl who loved reading.  To my dismay I discovered there was a lot more to working as a Library Technician than just reading books.  You actually had to talk to people.  Starting with the obvious.  A job interview.  EEEEEEEEEEEK!  Just the thought of them fills me with terror. 

I know nobody likes them. Everyone gets nervous of course. But it was completely off the scale for me.  I honestly could not fathom what to say.  It didn't matter that I was the most honest, trustworthy reliable individual on the planet, that wasn't going to get me a job. 

I needed the gift of the gab, the ability to sprout verbal diarrhoea and tell potential employers how completely wonderful I was.  I just simply cannot, to this day, do this.  I don't know how much of it is shyness and how much of it is my Aspergers, which I didn't know about at the time.  Perhaps I might have been able to get the help I needed for employment if I had known, something I desperately needed.

Since childhood, whenever I was asked an on the spot question I would freeze and literally not be able to think of  a single thing to say.  This happened at every interview.  Fortunately I was able to get a temporary position at the State Library of NSW through somebody I knew from TAFE.  But a permanent job elluded me.  For a period of time I diligently kept on applying for jobs.  I wasn't so bad at the written application part, so almost always I was contacted for an interview.  It was the talking I couldn't do.  Still can't. 

Some of the other librarians attempted to help me out by telling me what type of questions to expect to be asked so that I could prepare.  All the preparation in the world, still didn't help and the nightmare continued.  The more I tried, the more effort I put in to attempt to sound and speak confidently the more pointless it seemed.

One time I remember walking into a building for an interview and thinking: Right, I am going to walk up confidently to the front desk, speak up loudly and make eye contact.  Determined, I proceeded to do so only to receive the immediate reply "Boy, you're really shy aren't you?" I must have literally reeled as if he'd slapped me.  Even when I made a supreme effort to try to be confident, it seemed I just wasn't convincing. This was one of the many times the interview ended with me running out in tears.

Meanwhile I was also struggling with the temporary job, trying to fit in to the 'team' environment we were expected to work in.  As well as with being a dreamy, space cadet. An unhelpful trait in the work place.

Eventually I gave up on the library jobs and took a job in an NRMA call centre, principally because I was able to arrive 20 minutes late for the interview, after getting lost, where I mumbled a few incoherent words and they still employed me on a trial basis.  I soon found out why. It was hell on Earth.  NRMA are a great company, it's just that I wasn't cut out to talk to (mostly abusive) people all day.  Even over the phone. Somehow I worked there for three nightmarish years, before finally resigning. 

By this point I was married and we wanted start a family. It wasn't happening and we began fertility treatments.  This involved multiple trips to the hospital at random times, which would have made trying to keep a job at the same time difficult. So in it went into the too hard basket right along with driving.

Years later I had a few more casual library jobs.  (The whole fertility thing is another saga!).  The closest I got to a 'Tess' moment was when I was employed by law firm to look after their small specialist library.  I told them I wasn't in fact, officially a librarian, and they went oh well, doesn't matter and let me pretend to be one for a while.

Yes, I am definitely no Working Girl.  Maybe I'll just have to live vicariously through the film instead. After all daydreaming is something I'm good at.  Sing with me..."Leeeeeeeeet the River Ruuuun, Let all the dreamers wake the nation......"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cv-0mmVnxPA

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Group Therapy

Today I was hit by a bus. Metaphorically speaking.  Pushed way out of my comfort zone.  Completely out of my depth.  Feeling awkward, alien like and anxious.  This happens every Wednesday.  One word.

Playgroup. Actually it could be two words.  Not sure.

It's only two hours a week.  Two very  over-whelming hours.  For me, anyway.  Noise.  Children.  Apparently they are essential for a Playgroup.  Fleurescent lights. People.  Lots of people.  Scary.

Not to mention the giant huntsman that crept out to greet me in the bathroom there, a few weeks ago. Eeeeeeeeeek!

On any given week, there will be children running around playing, including my very own Master 3 (when he isn't clinging to me).  Babies crying.  Mum's chatting.  Toys everywhere.

Where am I amongst all this?  Standing, mute, in the corner, in quiet discomfort.  It's not that the folk there aren't friendly and welcoming.  They are.  It's just me.  Groups intimidate me. Always have.

Although I can sometimes manage an awkward one to one conversation, groups are a mystery to me.  I have no idea in hell how to join in an already established conversation.  Am clumsy at starting one. Posess zero ability to shout out and project my voice (which rarely reaches more than a whisper anyway) across a crowded room.

I can't bounce off people speedily with instant witty comebacks.  Trade jokes and banter with effortless ease. I do not have instant rapport with anyone I meet or make friends easily wherever I go. Let's not even talk about eye contact. Impossible.  Just. Does. Not. Compute.

I am capable of being a loyal friend and confidante, I know that, but not capable of making them easily.  Luckily, I do have my family and a small group of friends who seem to accept me the way I am (the quietest person in the room where ever I go) for which I am very grateful.

Plus, when at Playgroup, or anywhere for that matter,  I seem to have a decidedly unhelpful habit of comparing myself to all the other mothers.  How on Earth do they manage to look so neat, tidy and frankly, awake?  Wearing white.  White. With children.  Just. Does. Not. Compute.

In addition to this, their children tend to look like they've just stepped out of a Target catalogue.  My Master 3, on the other hand, looks like he's been dragged backwards through a hedge, wearing faded hand me downs, impeccably ironed to perfection though, of course, ( if you have been reading all my posts you will know I just made that last bit up, just wanted to check if you are paying attention) including a Spiderman shirt that belongs to a dress-up suit, at least a size too small.  As well as sporting a dodgy at home hair cut.  Classy.

The main thing is, he seems to have a good time.  So I will keep going,  and hopefully he will learn to navigate groups with slightly more ease than his mother.  Also, even the most quiet, shy, introverted Aspie craves company sometimes.  Even if I do come home exhausted, wanting quiet time.  If such a thing even exists as a mother of three boys!

I just hope that the huntsman spider doesn't make another appearance.  That thing was huge.  Eeeeeeek!

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