The next 50 years

 I just feel like bitching. I'm trying on these tests and doing so badly on the logic tests it's really discouraging. I can't leave the weed alone for a whole week even, and lately, not even for a whole day.  I can't go more than fifteen minutes between pees. The odds I'll even take the LSAT much less do well are so low.  Even if I did manage to do as well as I thought I could (and don't anymore) and I was like, perfect score, or something, they'd still probably not be able to put me in school. Let's pretend my mother died and left me tuition money. STILL would probably be turned down. Like "oh, you're disabled you can't come in as a regular student but we've already filled our disability quotia with much more disabled people than you. Better go apply to mcdonalds or something." I've been trying to find a way to be part of my society for my whole life and everything I could possibly do they tell me I can't, or that I can...

 I was just seeing some pics from my time after surgery. I remembered feeling like they thought I was a problem patient. I remember that one patient next door complained at any sound of existence and wakeness from me.  Even the sound of watching a video on my phone or talking to a friend. I have a picture of a biker roomie they gave me and he and I got along so well they got mad at us for laughing!  (I have more reasons than the filth to hate that hospital) The whole time I just accepted the idea. But let's examine it. The idea here is that I am so morally reprobate I need to be kept caged and isolated unless someone equally morally degenerate, like a hells angel biker drug dealer (he was) comes along to partner with me.   But why am I so toxic to morals? That's something I always accepted that "moral people" were going to look down on me and treat me like a pariah or criminal. Sure enough it's been going on a long time.   Reasons they might think this...

 It's funny how many people think I've engineered my life for minimum struggle and effort. It's one of the many reasons they have for not letting me participate in anything.   I hate it.  I didn't understand till I thought about the LSAT and possibly coming out employed that I realized how bad it was. when I think about my future next year, after I've done the LSAT and it is behind me and every time my brain comes back "are you sure we have to keep living?" I mean, i'm living because I"m not dead. that's it. I'm utterly directionless. nothing is important except those stupid fucking dishes. I mean, dishwashing is ok and I could do it as a job, but it's not exactly something you'd find fullfilling.  Lots of little things can fulfil one.  Yes. But many require investing cash.  Oh I'm just raging all over the place. With no marijuana in my system it's just massive. Nothing to dull the angst and anger. Nowhere to put it. I did ...

 In the dream I was in the back of the bus putting supper together. Now I normally cook all our food on the weekend.  Like roast or smoke a turkey or a couple chickens, and we eat off it all week.  But people showed up. They showed up to help with the fence, after it was done, in time for supper. Three of them, plus a friend. I had to give them all our food. I had to open the fridge, smile, and put on a thanksgiving feast, never mentioning that's our week's worth of food and I"ll be scrambling to make it up. I woke up as one does from a nightmare. Thought about the story of stone soup.  I'll retell it quickly. A beggar man came a knocking on an old woman's door. the woman lived alone at the edge of town in a small house with sparse furnishings.  "Please maam, can you feed me?"  "No, I have only enough for myself, go."  "Please maam, I won't need your food, I have a magic stone, I only need a pot and water and a fire. Please help, I'...

 I got to what the LSAT is and laughed at how simple it looks. I know the questions will require thinking. In fact I realize they'll require that I quit smoking weed on the regular. Perhaps I'm ready, perhaps I should take a break and see. It will help with dealing with people too I don't doubt. It may be legal but it still gets judged. I want to sit the LSAT.  I want to start by doing all the free stuff I can and training. I'm smart, remember?  I love learning. I do fabulous on the following types of questions:  The LSAT consists of six 35-minute sections. One scored Analytical Reasoning section | 4 scenarios with 5-7 questions each One scored Reading Comprehension section | 26-28 questions Two scored Logical Reasoning sections | 24-26 questions each One  unscored  section that could be Analytical Reasoning, Reading Comprehension, or Logical Reasoning One  unscored  writing sample I need to do this. Just for fun! But I need to do it so damn well ...

   A little old man had a little old house.  He wasn't much liked, got treated like a louse. No friends at all, and family unseen, this little house is the best it's ever been. The neighbors saw the disarray, the size of the lot, the possible pay. "We should save this poor man, and send him away, then the lot can be developed and children can play. He'll get a better place, somewhere away, this eyesore just cannot stay."  So the marshall was called, his face was appalled, the little old man was alone. His manners were foul, his clothes even worse, and even his car was begging for a hearse.  No trial, no mercy, just boards on the door, he just couldn't go and live there any more. He haunted the yard, he lived in his car, then the thing needed repairs and could not go that far. The city they came, still once again, and took that shelter too, and left him in the rain. The moral of my story, and this is quite true, you aren't always helping with the help that ...

 Somehow I need to get it bone-in understood that I am not going to be understood. Not. Not the search for why. Not the quest for a solution. The down deep acceptance of it as a fact as deep as the coldness of winter and my autism itself and, yes the ostomy. Because they can't see me. Because I can't be understood. I will also find little sympathy. I saw these last few days the complete absence of attention I've been complaining about in my spouse. I watched one person, holding my entire case in his hands, summary on a cover letter, and declare it not worth reading.  I watched the eyes glance and the face moue into a distaste and the whole demeanor change.  It is pointless to try understand because that guarantees I will stay in the cycle of accepting that any reason could exist that makes sense, or that it could be any other way for that matter.  You don't adjust to things that way.  I don't think that means I stop being the person I respect. I'm the only perso...

 So I'm stuck in that in between place. Not disabled enough to be someone's ward, too disabled to be a real person.  Everyone at some point lectures me on trying to get things for free. When it's the only way anything ever comes to me. Free is all I am allowed to have. Ever. You can't have unfree things if you haven't got money. You can't have money if someone won't give you any.  Now someone please figure out how I get them to give me money with the abilities I have.  Yeah, nobody has ever done that in fifty years.  Including me. I haven't failed to try. I have simply tried and failed. And failure isn't a crime.  Failure is not a crime. Society compounds the error of child abuse by treating failure as a crime. By treating differentness as a thing which is judged on it's ability to make us succeed. yet every last one of us knows the system is rigged. And when called on to fight the corruption, it would appear nobody does. They say things like ...

 A very long time ago there was a woman who rode the buses all day on a bus pass. she carried knitting gear and wore a cape that said "please let me be free" in embroidery. Her hair was an amazing confection of curls piled to the top. When she exited the bus she would fling herself off dramatically like pretending to fly, or a circus act landing.  Whee!  I asked her one day about the cape.  She told me she wanted to be allowed to go to siberia so she could be free to knit. That she used to knit for her daughter but her daughter was gone now and she couldnt' find enough peace to knit anymore.  I didn't get it. What went on in my mind for the next twenty years was most unkind and I am sure I've spoken unkindly to others about her. Well I think I finally understand. I'd like to just sit and knit. Or weave. Or just make, and I feel like every attempt I make to create a quiet space to create is invaded by other humans who come specifically to rattle my cage and ups...

 I really do find myself crying "why me."  Even though I try hard not to. So the fire marshall handed me off to the city bylaw officer. I'm emailling her now. I wrote the city hoping to address city council. Some of them know me, but would need to hear and see me in person to know. Well the bylaw officer is emailling me. Asking me for a phone call and I'm refusing. I just can't cope with voice communication well enough. I get railroaded.  She's using phrases like "just worried for your safety" which is code speak "come on, I can't fuck you over till you trust me."  I don't. I'm done trusting people with no prior evidence of their decency. I'm done giving the benefit of the doubt.  I don't get it, I'm not giving it. If things get threatening i'm going to CC my lawyer next. Or at least ask if it's time to contact him. But for now I'm expressing my genuine intention of taking the vehicle of contention to a s...

I've lived in some pretty drekky homes. Like that basement room. Unfinished concrete, with wall panelling on 1/1 frames to create "rooms."  The "kitchen" was under the wooden stairs, the stove well under where it can set alight our only egress. The kitchen "sink" was the bathroom sink, the fridge was half blocking the hallway. One tenant slept in a large closet off the main area. I was nicely set up with my own single room, a wire folding bedframe that I owned, two cardboard boxes with a candle stick and a sheepskin, and a small 3 drawer dresser.  Yep, nicely set up. Little grey square of a window about 10" above my head that didn't open. That was my first "home" on my own. Previous to that I lived on the largesse of a christian lady who gave me shelter, then briefly rented a room from some bachelors who decided me staying alone in my room suffering wasn't going to work for them. So that lasted a month. I mean, I know, I was cryi...