ingannation

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ingannation
(IN-gah-NAY-shun)
Noun:
-A cheat, trick or clever deception.
-The act of making someone believe something that is not true.
-The act of deceiving someone.
-The fact or condition of being deceived.
-Something that deceives.
-An act or statement intended to make people believe a falsehood.

Archaic – origin unknown.


 

I promised my good friend Rick that I’d make good use of this word. So, here is my take on the old, obsolete word, now démodé.

I’ve been thinking about lies and deception today. What is the most prominent, most soul crushing feature of my recent journey that focuses so much on advocacy? Ingannation. Continue reading

activism, advocacy vs clement space

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Yawning angel

This Autistic Bunny is not mired in meaningless repetition from “having autism”. This Autistic Bunny is mired in frustrating, seemingly futile repetition due to the utter lack of empathy and/or regard of the non-autistic world. Especially the ones who congregate around the money-spinning, job producing, status boosting Autism Bandwagon. Armed only with the medical model and little to no understanding of lived-experience, they declare themselves ‘experts’ and sell their ‘expertise’ in myriad ways to desperate ignorant non-autistic parents, students in institutes of higher learning who start off wanting to do good and make a difference, peers in academia who know nothing so just readily accept the viewpoints of these ‘experts’, and politicians in positions of governmental power.

What kind of ‘Autism Crisis’ is this? Not created by autistic persons for sure. But autistics are trying their best to clear the flotsam and jetsam that is being tossed around in seamless repetition by the non-autistic world. How do we even move forward one step at a time, when each step is a perilous risk?

To be clear, I say this again. I am not an Autism Activist. I advocate, somewhat passionately and vigorously, only because there is so much rubble strewn across each and every pathway that I need to clear the rubbish before I am able to venture forth. One just cannot safely and smoothly walk along paths that are chockfull of hazardous waste. I am no expert in bomb disposal, and I’d much rather have safe spaces to live in so I can focus on creating my art and doing meaningful workshops to help people, but what else can I do if the way forward is a minefield? Each day, I feel I am neglecting the very Being that is keeping me alive, giving me sustenance in a way no human creature ever can. I long to retreat into that space of clemency where I can commune with my Lucy in our soul enriching elemental empathic way. Yet, I have to sally forth into that awful domain of autism advocacy, speaking the truth where nobody dares or wants to, and all just to ask for basic respect and true inclusion.

I do worry about being blown up someday by one of the mines I am trying to clear. I do this for myself, for other autistics, and mostly to benefit the next generation. 

What kind of world do you hope for your autistic, neurodivergent and/or disabled child to live in, what kind of tomorrow? Today is not good enough. We need to work on a safer, gentler Neurocosmopolitan world.

…. yes… But what am I doing to and for the Pulchritude that lies in my bed so steadfastly preferring life-giving energy to this tired autistic soul? I owe her a debt I am never going to be able to fully repay. My Lucy Like-a-Charm.

no rest for the weary?

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Food reflects culture and mental states. Especially the meals of a foodie. My breakfast this morning was a combination of effort at Self Cheer and textural visual reflection of a dull aching oxymoronic state of throbbing-melancholia. Soft boiled egg with mayonnaise and plain yoghurt on a bed of cheap Aldi bacon (microwaved for less olfactory intrusion) and spring onion sprinkles, accompanied by cheap Coles coffee laced with cheerful caramel chocolate. The aroma of the caramel was balm to my sensory discombobulation.

We had another rough night. No rest for the weary. The Door Slammer kicked off the fabulous evening with a supremely noisy party. Her visitors traipsed in, announcing their arrivals with less pomp than raucous ceremony, then the customary now obligatory door slam to welcome each one’s initiation into invigorating zest for Extreme Neurotypical life. Then came the cacophony, introduced by loud out of tune singing of Happy Birthday, then variations on a trio-theme of Shriek-Scream-Guffaw. In and out they went, revitalised no doubt by every sharp slam of the door. No, I was not standing outside. Our units are separated by several feet along a corridor. My door was closed. But I could hear ever single sonic embellishment. Then, thankfully, towards midnight, there was a mass exodus to another party venue, and although the exit was marked by brilliant screeching coloratura and booming basso continuo, I heaved a sigh of relief.

However, my peace was short lived. Continue reading

D flat

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D flat and F sharp are the two most difficult tonalities for me to play on the piano. Is it just psychological? I don’t know. I have never been good at sight reading, those black notes dancing around on a page, just like too much text, but more visually attractive. As if my note reading handicap weren’t bad enough, too many of those black keys give me the shudders. No, it isn’t an Aspie thing, it’s just me being not very high functioning. Continue reading

moxie musings

breakfast inspiration

breakfast inspiration

Today’s breakfast was less weird. Avocado, anchovies, chopped red onion and tomatoes, olive oil. That is it. Brain food? Maybe. Whatever the case, this yummy breakfast has indeed set some thoughts in motion.

For me, and most Aspies with a passion for some subject or activity, almost everything in our lives can be constructively linked to our intensely-focused interests. Even the most horrendous experiences, once overcome and dusted off, linger on forever as pieces of analytical and inspirational fodder for my work. Continue reading