hi

So...
(wow, I wasn't aware I hadn't written here for such a long time)
Well...

Actually, I had been thiking of posting some ideas here for the last few days but I had eventually decided not to because there is nothing to gain from "ohmygodmylifesuckssobadI'msomiserable" posts.

But then today life sucked worse that usually, and I still wanted to be a good girl, but my friends wouldn't help me, and suddenly I found myself changin my fb profile picture for one in which I was 14 and suicidal, and then writing a post/joke about my fb page being suicidal itself (in which, for the record, I encouraged it to be strong and not kill itself).

And friends, a friend, one very dear friend who has been really helpful and good to me before, well, him, couldn't think of anything else to do but scol me for laughing at suicide when I'm only just trying hard to ridiculize the idea of my own suicide, because, as it happens, I do wish I wasn't alive. And it's just that it made me feel so bad, because he, well, maybe it was just me being paranoid, but my sensation has been that he wasn't being any great lately, and God, it would help if he were.

So whatever.
Suicide humour sucks, yeah, exactly as much as being me does, and I'm fucking free to laugh at it if I want to, the last thing I need is people making me feel worse.

bye

there's a bunch of stuff that scares me.

Even now, when being in love feels great no matter how unrequited it is (apparently not too much), it terrifies me.

Wasting my only chance to make you love me terrifies me,
Letting you fade away from my life terrifies me,
Screwing our friendship up terrifies me,
Taking steps towards you without your previous consent terrrifies me,
Using pressure until you can not scape terrifies me,
Making you run away terrifies me,
Letting go of you terrifies me,
Repenting terrifies me,
Being so afraid terrifies me,
Not being able to tell what I feel and how I feel it terrifies me,
Feeling this much terrifies me,
The way my friends talk about my terror terrifies me,
Crying about it terrifies me,
The closeness of the day when you'll leave terrifies me,
Not being here when you go terrifies me,
Never getting to kiss you terrifies me,
Not being the one for you if you are the one for me terrifies me,
The estructural deepness of the difference between liking you and liking all the other people I've liked terrifies me,
The cozyness of your gaze terrifies me,
Letting go of your hugs terrifies me,
Dissaponting you terrifies me,
It all terrifies me...

... so much that my body just stop working.

And that terrifies me, too.

[Y de repente te das cuenta de que estás dando pasos de gigante hacia un futuro que te aterra, pero que tú has elegido. Y sientes miedo y orgullo, y mariposas en el estómago...]

So... It seems I’m... getting out of the closet. About my autism, that is.

One of the reasons why I finally thought “So what the fuck?” and went aupairing was that my friend M. was doing it, and reading about it in her blog, it looked amazing.

My relationship with M. begun around 2006 in a certain foto-blog plataform and we’ve been in touch via different social networks, and we follow each other blogs. So, she knows about my aspergers. I think she is actually the only person I knew before I found out that knows.

And I decided to come aupairing to Irealnd and I ended up in Co. Cork, were she is. And we met up (for the first time and it was weird and great and whatever).

But the thing is she knows.

And then one saturday night I told F., because I... felt like it.

So she knows too.

And we were chatting the other day and... well, if G. didn’t properly realize what’s going on, then he just sort of did, but it was stated clear that my mind works in a different way at least.

And I’m getting out of the closet and it feels... a lot of different things.

Of course it feels great. I had actually thought of this experience as a way of starting a life that makes me feel better, with less passing and more freedom, right from the instant “So what the fuck?” came into my mind. And being free to be yourself feels fucking great.

And of course it’s hella scary too, I mean, now I suddenly am openly* autistic, and I don’t really know what’s expected from me or to what point I can act like myself and not my passing self, and what aspects of my autistic mind are OK and not creepy to reveal to the people that I want to keep as friends, and how is people going to respond to it? Are they all going to start acting weird and ruin it all? And is it safe? or does it make me just even more vulnerable?

And them I’m proud, because I’m actively taking my own steps towards what I think it should be. Because, come on, asking for the right to be something you’re actually hiding you are is not exactly cool, right? And asking for better conditions and understanding for and about you while you’re not ready to show it is about you is both mean and... mean, right? And when you’re changing that hypocrite part of you (even if it’s only a small part of it, not the whole, not all at once, it feels good, and your self steem suddenly grows, because you don’t really accept yourself until you publicly accept yourself, right?

*Openly with my friends, even just with some of them (the friend-est ones anyway), that is, with the peope I freely relate with,  not with my hostfamily or the people we just hang out with.

I hate it when people does things for me without me asking and they do them in the wrong way.

Like, you know, there's this guy who apparently likes me a lot, and yeah I also kind of like him, and he asked me to be his girlfriend but I said "no" because I was leaving, and the moment was not the best to explain things so I just said no.
And this morning he went to the restaurant before I was there and my mom told him I'm leaving.

So when I arrived he's looked at me with a sad look and he's said "So your leaving" and I said "Yes" and he asked "for how long" and I said "minimum 7 months" and his look's turned even sadder.

And shit.

(And yeah, this is me whining and I'm sorry about that but I needed to split it out)

Driving while autistic. Aspxiety.

After doubly recibing the “original Blog Award”, and this time from none else but my highly admired blogger M., I find myself in the need of becoming a decent blogger who writes interesting posts.

But I’ll leave that to growth XD.

I’m only going to write about my little troubling dayly life today, because, for being my hollydays, it’s generating a lot of anxiety.

There are a bunch of factors, mainly a) the fact that I couldn’t escape driving license this Summer, b) that my close word is going through a creepy and disgusting political process in the form of “youngsters’ conspiration” c) the constant harassment A. faces in front of me.

Let’s develop!

a) I will never make a safe driver of myself. 
I don’t even want to drive, I’ve never felt the slighest interest for it. But I live in a very small village with no decent public transport system (I don’t enjoy public transport a single bit, but I prefer that to having to drive myself) and I sometimes need to go to places, such as, you know, class. Mom is sick of driving me, which is understandable, and that’s why I’ve got to take my licence. First of all, let me tell you that both taking the licence and driving in Spain are not as easy as, say, in USA. I’m working on the thorical part of the licence right now, most part of which I think is very stupid. I’ve got issues with studying stuff I consider stupid. But that’s not the problem. The problem are the practical licence and the lessons I will have to face to get it. I just don’t want to. Practical lessons were always a hell for me, even when (as normally happened) I already knew what I had to do. Imagine if I don’t. I’ll have to understand everything the teacher asks me to do, and not be clumpsy, and not be too nervous to move a muscle. And laugh at the teacher’s jokes, which includes identifying them as jokes. I can’t do that. 
And I can't keep a uniform attention level to the loads of things a driver needs to at the same time, and I can't not pay attention to loads of things that a driver needs to ignore. And I get easily overwelmed by stimuli when I'm forcefully paying attention to things, and then I suddenly need to stop working and put my back on a corner and close my eyes and ears and let my brain process all the accumulated stimuli before being able to face the world again. It doesn´t sound safe to do that while driving.

And this may sound horrible for some of you but I’m not anything into doing stuff I don’t think I can do.




Look foward for new posts for points b and c (you may have them both, or one of them, or none, before the day ends).

Shoujo-ed

This post will be inmenselly stupid but I relly need to blurt it out...

I've been reading tons and tons of shoujo manga lately, concretelly school-life ones: "Usotsuki Lily", "Love Berrish", <<Say "I love you">>, "Strobe Edge", "Five" (this one is fun :)), "Stardus Wink", "Rockin' Heaven", "Love and Noise" and "Hiyokoi".

It's an emergency situation!
At this rate, I will dump Dir en Grey for Ayumi Hamasaki any day now-

The thing is that I can not find any decent manga lately. So just in case anyone has a recomendation: Please!! I can not have any other troubled heroine in love!!
I need to find something engaging and interesting in the lines of Dead Note, Deadman Wonderland, Para-Paru or even Fairy Tail-
There are a bunch of interesting looking stories out there but the drawings are horrible in all of them, and that's what's good in those shoujo mangas: the drawings need to be as cute as the characters, so they're good.

There's a gigant chainsaw out there and it's coming for me

I'm so scared.
I've gone out for my everyday after-dinner quiet lonely walk.
I live in a very tine village and there's literally none out at this time, never. If there's someone, I just avoid them.

So I've gone out for my everyday after-dinner quiet lonely walk, and as I walked, a noise started. It was a motor sound, and it has gone gradually louder. And louder. And louder until I couldn't stand it anymore and I've begun to run, but the noise was still growing louder and louder and I ran and ran and then I've just come home and I'm so scared.

I still have got the noise in my brain.

Whatever thing it was making the sound, it shouldn't be permitted for it to exist.

But I wonder what it was?

So I’m trying to write this in English

 [Yesterday was such an awful day- and I tried to change my template, the other one was definitely uncomfortable, but blogger wouldn't want to, so I've just done it, like it? and exams on 20 days and I’ve done nothing in the whole term]

There’s a few days since I decided to write something about I. I. Is a mentally disabled young man I met when working in Disabled Summer Camps. He had violent attacks and I, between the whole working team, was his favourite subject for them. So I was afraid of him. He would grab me by the arm, put a terror movie mad man’s face and strongly stick his nails on it. He wouldn’t stop whatever a did/said until some guy (normally my beloved elf) came and told him to stop. So I was afraid of him. So when the attack was finished and he was a nice guy back, I would tell him “Stay away” and he would sit down a couple of metres away from me and i would tell “far away” and he would stand up and walk five more metres and sit down again. And then I would feel guilty and horrible for treating him that way.

I was specially afraid of waking him up at mornings to give him his medicines because that meant to be alone with him when everyone else was sleeping and I would have to scream out for help if I wanted my Elf to come and save me. I’m not exactly good on asking for help... But I. Would never harm me in that situation.

Tehn there was the bus thing. When the camp was finished two of us would have to go on the bus whith the group. That year it was another girl and me, which meant big problems if I. gor violent. So I was, obviously, afraid once more. It was about the middle of the journey (it was not a long one) when I. stood up from his place on the front of the bus, walked all the way to the back where we were and sat down in the free place beside me. I was terrified. He held my arm and said “Home” and then he smiled. I felt so sorry for him. I don’t know what his disability was because we weren’t told, and I wish i knew because he was on a camp to have a good time and he obviously had a bad one. That moment on the bus made me feel he was sweet, but I haven’t seen his smile until that very moment.

And well, now I’m speaking about how we didn’t know any medical details about the people we were treating. It was part of the privacy policy of the centre they lived on: we were not doctors so we didn’t need to know. I didn’t like this and it proved extremely unefective:

There was “C.”

“C.” Apparently was a tranquil mentally retarded middle age woman with self-violence attacks and that was all we could see so we treated “her” having that into account.

Then one day, the nurse would speak too much and told some of us what follows: <<“C.” has 28 diagnosed personalities>>.

So I got totally mad. So we had been treating 28 as if they were 1. OF COURSE IT WOULDN’T WORK, HOW DO YOU PRETEND THAT TO WORK??!! ARE YOU REALLY THAT STUPID??!!

I felt everything was so stupid and nonsense and suddenly I was so unconfident about the work we (I) were doing and I couldn’t stand the situation. We were doing it pityfully and it was their fault.