Most peoples lives, when looked back on, are fiction. The things we know about out past are mixed in with the stories we tell about them. Your embellishment of what happened melds with the reality, until no one knows the difference. Once it's gone it's gone. This is probably why I can remember the plots of books as if I had lived them. Perhaps that is why when telling stories I never really cared if they were about me or not, as those ones were likely fiction too.
I've spent a while thinking about how my life has been so far. For a Twenty year old I haven't done too badly. If I try to tell the story though, it will be naught but fiction. I don't have a problem with fiction, but I can't state fiction as memoir.
I also want to figure out everything before I put anything in writing. I suppose writing about things would clear them up in my mind, would remove the nebulous slag sticking to my ideas. I suppose I'm just scared. I'm scared of what I'll find. There are so many shitty things that could happen. There is a good chance that some of them might happen too. It's not simply an irrational fear, like the fear of terrorism (especially in the US). It is a fear driven by heritability percentages and evidence from the road I've already traveled.
My Father is bi-polar. Putting it that way is a bit too simplistic, but I haven't the desire to go through an explanation. Bi-polar disorder is one of the most heritable mental illnesses. Look up the percentages because I've forgotten them. I'm afraid that is me too. I'm afraid that more shit will pop up.
I already have enough wrong with me, and enough wrong with the world. I don't need more.
That's what I've been ruminating on. Not obsessively so, but with relative frequency. Writing about it does help though.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Wall-E
I just returned from watching Wall-E. There was only one kid in the theatre. It helps that it was a 9:30 showing, but I was pleased by that. The film was beautiful. The colours were a drab palate of greys and rust reds and dirt browns which evoked the feeling of desperation and foreboding I imagine was intended. The first portion of the movie has no human voices. there is some music and once or twice the robots say their names, however the silence is pervasive. The use of Wall-Es eyes for expression is magnificent. My environmental psych class popped into my head a few times as well, and that was interesting.
there's more to tell but I don't particularly feel like doing so.
there's more to tell but I don't particularly feel like doing so.
Friday, July 25, 2008
a late night and a bike crash.
It's four in the morning (roughly). I gotta say, this is getting annoying. It doesn't make a huge deal of difference since I've little to do tomorrow, but shit. I am going to eat dinner with my parents and manage some money stuff, but that won't be until a bit later so I'll have ample time to sleep. I really don't know what's up with me.
On a completely different note my neck is sore. I think it's from this bike crash I had on Wednesday. I was riding my bike a bit too fast, and the streetlight was turning yellow. A car was turning left coming from the other direction, and I was parallel with a car in my lane. The fellow turning left saw the other car, but not me, so he proceeded to take his left. I was going too fast to really stop efficiently because I had been speeding up to make it through the light. by the time I got to the intersection I was confronted with his trunk area. I turned right as hard as I could so I was going the same direction as the car I struck and I hit the car, ricocheting off at roughly a fourty five degree angle. My bicycle and I flew into the air and I landed on my back (and my messenger bag, thank god) about two metres away from where I hit the guy. The wind was knocked out of me pretty badly. The guy got out of the car to ask how I was doing and all that and I couldn't really respond with no wind. I told him I was fine besides that though. We waited around for the police so we could have it on record if anything happened, just to cover our asses. He was a really nice guy, I'm sorry I ran into his car. I found I was bleeding in three places, an abrasion on my elbow another on my left hand, and a geartooth shaped hole in my right calf from the sprocket. The sprocket hole (or chain tattoo as some call them) by far bled the most, though it hurt the least. I later found that I had three or four (perhaps five?) abrasions on my back. None of the stuff was too bad, nor was it anything I hadn't had happen to me before. My shoulder (right) is a bit sore but my range of motion isn't hindered and movement is fine so It doesn't seem to be serious. My neck is sore too. I think its from the shock of me holding it up off the ground so vigorously. I wasn't wearing a helmet see. This is because research supports the idea that riding with a helmet is in fact more dangerous in the presence of cars because they crowd you. I've just been going by whatever the most valid well constructed studies have found. anywho, I was defensive in how I landed, though little of it was conscious, and so I didn't hit my head, and all that's sore now are the things listed above. It's a bit annoying, but not hugely so. I can't say I'm not pleased that I get to be all hardcore. Sadly on the same day one of my friends upstaged me by getting in a motorcycle accident (he's ok, because helmets on motorcycles are infact a Brilliant idea) his accident wasn't as intense as mine, but he passed out and has two black eyes so he gets automatic credit.
On a completely different note my neck is sore. I think it's from this bike crash I had on Wednesday. I was riding my bike a bit too fast, and the streetlight was turning yellow. A car was turning left coming from the other direction, and I was parallel with a car in my lane. The fellow turning left saw the other car, but not me, so he proceeded to take his left. I was going too fast to really stop efficiently because I had been speeding up to make it through the light. by the time I got to the intersection I was confronted with his trunk area. I turned right as hard as I could so I was going the same direction as the car I struck and I hit the car, ricocheting off at roughly a fourty five degree angle. My bicycle and I flew into the air and I landed on my back (and my messenger bag, thank god) about two metres away from where I hit the guy. The wind was knocked out of me pretty badly. The guy got out of the car to ask how I was doing and all that and I couldn't really respond with no wind. I told him I was fine besides that though. We waited around for the police so we could have it on record if anything happened, just to cover our asses. He was a really nice guy, I'm sorry I ran into his car. I found I was bleeding in three places, an abrasion on my elbow another on my left hand, and a geartooth shaped hole in my right calf from the sprocket. The sprocket hole (or chain tattoo as some call them) by far bled the most, though it hurt the least. I later found that I had three or four (perhaps five?) abrasions on my back. None of the stuff was too bad, nor was it anything I hadn't had happen to me before. My shoulder (right) is a bit sore but my range of motion isn't hindered and movement is fine so It doesn't seem to be serious. My neck is sore too. I think its from the shock of me holding it up off the ground so vigorously. I wasn't wearing a helmet see. This is because research supports the idea that riding with a helmet is in fact more dangerous in the presence of cars because they crowd you. I've just been going by whatever the most valid well constructed studies have found. anywho, I was defensive in how I landed, though little of it was conscious, and so I didn't hit my head, and all that's sore now are the things listed above. It's a bit annoying, but not hugely so. I can't say I'm not pleased that I get to be all hardcore. Sadly on the same day one of my friends upstaged me by getting in a motorcycle accident (he's ok, because helmets on motorcycles are infact a Brilliant idea) his accident wasn't as intense as mine, but he passed out and has two black eyes so he gets automatic credit.
Monday, July 21, 2008
weird sleep strikes again
my weirdness in regards to sleep schedule has struck once again. it is five thirty in the morning and I'm not yet a sleep. The sun is very close to coming up. I didn't wake up until relatively late today, but that doesn't explain all of it. I've been living on a schedule where my days are a bit longer than everyone else. It seems like I just tack on a few extra hours here and there and end up getting out of sync. It's also gotta be partly because I haven't been going to work and forcing myself into that schedule. I've just been feeling really excitable too. It's odd. That's the fucking problem with being up at five thirty though, I can't really think properly. I can think quickly but things are working in the correct order, or whatever it is that isn't clicking. I'm going to put off more posts until my head is more clear.
Friday, July 18, 2008
the persistence of memory.
Today during a huge cleaning spree, (likely driven on by a bit of mania and a lack of meds but that's another story) I found that the power cord to my printer is the same as the one missing from my old computer monitor. That was all that had been stopping me from using my old computer for the fun of it. My old computer is a beast and I its Frankenstein. running parts are held together with duct tape, everything is relatively jerry rigged, and I love it.
This computer helped to get me thorough highschool and that year of psuedo college/senior year of high school.
I plugged it in and everything worked fine. I was very pleased because I'd done nothing to it for nigh two years. The computer is a blast from the past. I opened up the music player to hear lovely sounds of my youth. There was so much stuff on there that I hadn't been able to transfer previously. Eventually I'll get to it, but now I'm just revelling in music I'd forgotten or lost. I also love the games and poorly written poems and songs laying about on there.
The songs and poems aren't all bad, but some of them are certainly atrocious. I'm not going to say whether my writing has gotten better, but I garauntee that my editing eye has gotten better. \
I'm enjoying this. I listened to some music I love and haven't listened to as of late for one or another reason, Some Dashboard Confessional, I Voted for Kodos, The Wedgewoods, some older NOFX, some old Catch 22. and some songs just sound better sitting infront of the big ol screen and rocking out. I'm pretty sure it has to to with ties to memory and situation and all of that stuff. It's just so bad ass to rock out to some chiodos in front of the computer. I've been eating it up.
I've also been reading Swan's Way, by Proust for a while now and just passed the scene regarding how the taste of madelline cookie dipped in lime flower tea brought back the vivid memory of his childhood in combray. Sitting infront of the computer rocking out to Chiodos, watching out for things that might break if I am not careful enough brought back a lot of the good memories from highschool. It also did something similar to what Proust discribed, it made me feel that perhaps the time spent in my room infront of the computer was the only time which existed in that stretch. Proust says it as such,
"And so it was that, for a long time afterwards, when I lay awake at night and revived old memories of combray, I saw no more of it than this sort of luminous panel, sharply defined against a vague and shadowy background, like the panels which a Bengal fire or some electric sign will illuminate and dissect from the front of a building the other parts of which remain plunged in darkness: broad as its base, the little parlour, the dining-room, the alluring shadows of the path along which would come M. Swann, the unconscious author of my sufferings, the hall through which I would journey to the first step of that staircase, so hard to climb, which constituted, all by itself, the tapering 'elevation' of an irregular pyramid and, at the summit, my bedroom, with the little passage through whose glazed door Mamma would enter; in a word, seen always at the same evening hour, isolated from all its possible surroundings, detached and solitary against its shadowy background, the bare minimum of scenery necessary (like the setting one sees printed at the head of an old play, for its performance in the provinces) to the drama of my undressing, as though all Combray had consisted of but two floors joined by a slender staircase, and as though there had been no time there but seven o'clock at night. I must own that I could have assured any questioner that Combray did include other scenes and did exist at other hours than these. But since the facts which I should have recalled would have been prompted only by and exercise of the will, by my intellectual memory, and since the pictures which that kind of memory shows us of the past preserve nothing of the past itself, I should never have had any wish to ponder over this residue of Combray. To me it was in reality all dead."
I'll let Proust have the next to last word as he says things so well.
Hopefully light was shed.
This computer helped to get me thorough highschool and that year of psuedo college/senior year of high school.
I plugged it in and everything worked fine. I was very pleased because I'd done nothing to it for nigh two years. The computer is a blast from the past. I opened up the music player to hear lovely sounds of my youth. There was so much stuff on there that I hadn't been able to transfer previously. Eventually I'll get to it, but now I'm just revelling in music I'd forgotten or lost. I also love the games and poorly written poems and songs laying about on there.
The songs and poems aren't all bad, but some of them are certainly atrocious. I'm not going to say whether my writing has gotten better, but I garauntee that my editing eye has gotten better. \
I'm enjoying this. I listened to some music I love and haven't listened to as of late for one or another reason, Some Dashboard Confessional, I Voted for Kodos, The Wedgewoods, some older NOFX, some old Catch 22. and some songs just sound better sitting infront of the big ol screen and rocking out. I'm pretty sure it has to to with ties to memory and situation and all of that stuff. It's just so bad ass to rock out to some chiodos in front of the computer. I've been eating it up.
I've also been reading Swan's Way, by Proust for a while now and just passed the scene regarding how the taste of madelline cookie dipped in lime flower tea brought back the vivid memory of his childhood in combray. Sitting infront of the computer rocking out to Chiodos, watching out for things that might break if I am not careful enough brought back a lot of the good memories from highschool. It also did something similar to what Proust discribed, it made me feel that perhaps the time spent in my room infront of the computer was the only time which existed in that stretch. Proust says it as such,
"And so it was that, for a long time afterwards, when I lay awake at night and revived old memories of combray, I saw no more of it than this sort of luminous panel, sharply defined against a vague and shadowy background, like the panels which a Bengal fire or some electric sign will illuminate and dissect from the front of a building the other parts of which remain plunged in darkness: broad as its base, the little parlour, the dining-room, the alluring shadows of the path along which would come M. Swann, the unconscious author of my sufferings, the hall through which I would journey to the first step of that staircase, so hard to climb, which constituted, all by itself, the tapering 'elevation' of an irregular pyramid and, at the summit, my bedroom, with the little passage through whose glazed door Mamma would enter; in a word, seen always at the same evening hour, isolated from all its possible surroundings, detached and solitary against its shadowy background, the bare minimum of scenery necessary (like the setting one sees printed at the head of an old play, for its performance in the provinces) to the drama of my undressing, as though all Combray had consisted of but two floors joined by a slender staircase, and as though there had been no time there but seven o'clock at night. I must own that I could have assured any questioner that Combray did include other scenes and did exist at other hours than these. But since the facts which I should have recalled would have been prompted only by and exercise of the will, by my intellectual memory, and since the pictures which that kind of memory shows us of the past preserve nothing of the past itself, I should never have had any wish to ponder over this residue of Combray. To me it was in reality all dead."
I'll let Proust have the next to last word as he says things so well.
Hopefully light was shed.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The orgin of my writing voice.
I ran into an essay by Kurt Vonnegut about style, and one of the points of advice got me to thinking. The point of advice went something like this. Vonnegut writes best when writing like the kid from Illinois he is. Joyce writes best when writing like a Dubliner. Twain Writes best when sounding like a man of the Mississippi. Ones orgin is the basis of their best writing voice. I haven't been able to think of an example refuting this. Saul Bellows sounds like a Jew from Chicago, and that is part of why he's so great. When I write I don't know what I sound like.
That's not a function of my writing being convoluted, though that has been a problem. I'm pretty sure it's more a function of my personal influences being so nebulous. I don't just write like a boy from the mountains of northern California, nor do I just write like a boy raised partly in Japan. My influences are such that my writing doesn't fit a single accepted form of prose. I have a weird way of speaking in which anachronisms from my parents generation, sentence structure from Japan, the earnest simple speak of the mountains, and the odd turns of phrase used in my voluminous reading are melded. It's hard for me to divine my influences.
One good example of this is simply in my speech. When talking I use lots of idioms that are antiquated. I don't realise no one has heard them. I always think them to be normal phrases, but am corrected, or met with a blank stare. This is how it is with weird little turns in my speech. I don't know what is odd. I know how other's speech differs from mine, but I sure as hell don't quite know what is up with mine. I look at all speech through the lens of what I've read and what I myself say. It's just natural.
It would be interesting if someone could pick out what was specifically different about the way I write or speak. I know a lot of what I write is either dull or constructed in a normal stylistic manner, but there's something there that isn't at parr. I suppose it's more odd that that is the way I speak too. The odd turns of phrase and awkward sentence structure pervade my speech.
If I figure out what's going on I'll let it be known, though this is rather unlikely.
until next rant.
That's not a function of my writing being convoluted, though that has been a problem. I'm pretty sure it's more a function of my personal influences being so nebulous. I don't just write like a boy from the mountains of northern California, nor do I just write like a boy raised partly in Japan. My influences are such that my writing doesn't fit a single accepted form of prose. I have a weird way of speaking in which anachronisms from my parents generation, sentence structure from Japan, the earnest simple speak of the mountains, and the odd turns of phrase used in my voluminous reading are melded. It's hard for me to divine my influences.
One good example of this is simply in my speech. When talking I use lots of idioms that are antiquated. I don't realise no one has heard them. I always think them to be normal phrases, but am corrected, or met with a blank stare. This is how it is with weird little turns in my speech. I don't know what is odd. I know how other's speech differs from mine, but I sure as hell don't quite know what is up with mine. I look at all speech through the lens of what I've read and what I myself say. It's just natural.
It would be interesting if someone could pick out what was specifically different about the way I write or speak. I know a lot of what I write is either dull or constructed in a normal stylistic manner, but there's something there that isn't at parr. I suppose it's more odd that that is the way I speak too. The odd turns of phrase and awkward sentence structure pervade my speech.
If I figure out what's going on I'll let it be known, though this is rather unlikely.
until next rant.
ahh, near sorted.
dealing with my insurance company wasn't so bad, nor was getting a new tyre. I'm pleased with the interactions and it didn't take a huge chunk of my day or anything. I'm looking forward to getting back to work, and hopefully this won't but a huge dent in my already dented finances. Not something to really worry about though, things are like to get sorted soon.
Frustration and a weird sleep schedule.
My sleep cycle has been drastically perverted. My car has been in disrepair, and so I haven't been going to work, which has changed my schedule a whole lot. This isn't a bad thing, but it proves to me that Ideally I live at a slightly different pace. I know that I work best if I am awake for about seventeen hours. I can go more or less depending on how things are. This would work great if sleeping eight hours were my normal set up, but I'm pretty sure it isn't I'm pretty good with at least ten hours.
None of this is for sure and I might take a log of when I sleep and all of that sometime, but it seems that the normal schedule doesn't quite fit for me. On that note, it's seven fourty in the morning and I'm still awake. I woke up sometime around seven pm yesterday after a few fitful bouts of wakefulness. I'm going to go off and get my car fixed, and deal with the world disliking me. It's nice having these things occur at what is really the end of my day. I don't feel like dealing with anything but, I don't really have a choice now do I.
I'm also not happy that I'm unlikely to see Julie this weekend, as she's got other engagements. I don't like being apart from her for so long. Having had to put up with months of it doesn't make the weeks that I'm putting up with now hugely better. All I really want is to be in the same damn place, but I can't do that without shirking responsibility. I really can't shirk my responsibility if I want to be at all Fair to Julie. It's quite the catch twenty two. I need to be with Julie to really do her justice. To do that I have to shirk responsibility, which doesn't do her justice.
It's rather annoying. I haven't had a good complain in a while, and I guess I'm just getting it all out at once. I'm glad that I'm not crazy, but I definitely am not happy about the rest of the world giving me trouble. I know other people have it worse, and I've kept my complaints to myself (well mostly) for just that reason, but I've had enough.
Oh well. there's naught that I can do at the moment. I'll figure it out.Or maybe I won't, that's to be seen. I just have to keep it up and hope that things will work out.
None of this is for sure and I might take a log of when I sleep and all of that sometime, but it seems that the normal schedule doesn't quite fit for me. On that note, it's seven fourty in the morning and I'm still awake. I woke up sometime around seven pm yesterday after a few fitful bouts of wakefulness. I'm going to go off and get my car fixed, and deal with the world disliking me. It's nice having these things occur at what is really the end of my day. I don't feel like dealing with anything but, I don't really have a choice now do I.
I'm also not happy that I'm unlikely to see Julie this weekend, as she's got other engagements. I don't like being apart from her for so long. Having had to put up with months of it doesn't make the weeks that I'm putting up with now hugely better. All I really want is to be in the same damn place, but I can't do that without shirking responsibility. I really can't shirk my responsibility if I want to be at all Fair to Julie. It's quite the catch twenty two. I need to be with Julie to really do her justice. To do that I have to shirk responsibility, which doesn't do her justice.
It's rather annoying. I haven't had a good complain in a while, and I guess I'm just getting it all out at once. I'm glad that I'm not crazy, but I definitely am not happy about the rest of the world giving me trouble. I know other people have it worse, and I've kept my complaints to myself (well mostly) for just that reason, but I've had enough.
Oh well. there's naught that I can do at the moment. I'll figure it out.Or maybe I won't, that's to be seen. I just have to keep it up and hope that things will work out.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
dealing with people can just be too much fucking trouble. I understand a lot of how they work, and about why things happen the way they do with people, but fuck, how to deal with them sure is opaque. I wish everything were just more straightforward. I'm always relatively striaghtforward, and try to avoid bullshit, why can't everyone else?
So what sparked this was a conversation, or rather a bit of talking and a lot of sitting in silence, with my girlfriend. If I didn't love her this would have pissed me off. As it is I'm just a little annoyed and perplexed. I try to be helpful, I listen to complaints over which I have no control, and I give what advice I can. I know advice can't be given for every situation, and I know that not everything can be fixed, but trying to understand everything just seems like an obvious must to me.
I can only deal with that which I can observe, or which I'm told of. Silence doesn't improve my understanding of anything. I don't think it's alright for her to get all pissy just because I don't understand what's going on when I haven't any information. Oh well. I'm not particularly able to assess the situation as of this time, so I'll leave it be, but I can't help but still be a bit bothered. Whatever, I'll figure it out eventually. I just wish I were with her so I could pick up those signs I can't over the phone, so I could understand better what was going on, so when she talked with me, I could stop when she was annoyed, or leave, or otherwise do something effective.
I just feel so impotent at this distance, or any distance really.
So what sparked this was a conversation, or rather a bit of talking and a lot of sitting in silence, with my girlfriend. If I didn't love her this would have pissed me off. As it is I'm just a little annoyed and perplexed. I try to be helpful, I listen to complaints over which I have no control, and I give what advice I can. I know advice can't be given for every situation, and I know that not everything can be fixed, but trying to understand everything just seems like an obvious must to me.
I can only deal with that which I can observe, or which I'm told of. Silence doesn't improve my understanding of anything. I don't think it's alright for her to get all pissy just because I don't understand what's going on when I haven't any information. Oh well. I'm not particularly able to assess the situation as of this time, so I'll leave it be, but I can't help but still be a bit bothered. Whatever, I'll figure it out eventually. I just wish I were with her so I could pick up those signs I can't over the phone, so I could understand better what was going on, so when she talked with me, I could stop when she was annoyed, or leave, or otherwise do something effective.
I just feel so impotent at this distance, or any distance really.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
I hate money.
Tonight I talked with Julie about money.
I have irrational fears about money, and obsess over how much I have and how I'm going to pay for things. My family wasn't poor or anything. Somehow frugality was simply instilled in me. My dad grew up poor and his father grew up during the depression. I can understand where some of this obsession comes from. The thing is that in the past I haven't let money stop me so much. I was ok with buying books and music regardless of money. I don't know what's changed, but lately I've been worried about how much I have and how much I don't.
I'm in debt right now and I have a little over a thousand dollars less a month coming in than I need in order to keep up with bills, without paying off my debt. This is with working thirty hours a week and using the money my family has saved up for years on end.
Julie is telling me money is easily attainable but that hasn't been my experience. I've done the whole applying for scholarships out the wazoo thing, and I've taken out loans. The thing is that it doesn't help. My dislike of all of this makes a certain amount of sense, but it is indeed irrational. However I know of lots of folks who worked their way through college. It's a common thing. I\I don't really understand how people can think that it's ok to just defer everything. I know that its ok to take loans and to focus on ones education, but what happened to contributing to your own education. The fact is that with the amount of money I was getting in financial aide loans and all didn't pay for the remainder that was left when my parents money was spent. (it's actually my money, long story, umm probably for later) I went further in debt because of that. Before I had my reckless spending binge while in a bout of clinical depression I already had debt from paying off parts of my school and housing etc. with my credit.
I don't know what to think right now. I don't want money to determine what I do, but I can't eist without my money figured out. Julie doesn't worry about money the same way, but I don't think it's just me being all irrational, though that is part of it. I think that some of it comes from the fact that I manage my money. I have to see where it goes, distribute it among accounts, spend it, and organise it. She doesn't do any of that. Her parents juggle the finances. They probably have to go through a similar set of hoops, but she never sees the hoops so her anxiety about money is subverted. I also imagine it's easier to get a loan when you have some twenty or thirty years of credit built up. as far as my parents taking out a loan, we already have some of those out, and I'm not sure where we are financially. Frankly money is the only thing my father and I really argue about.
Just like with everything else as of late I wish I could just drop it all and just curl up with Julie. That's all I want out of anything lately.
I can't fix my craziness in a flash, I can't fix my schooling in a flash, and I can't simply slough off my monetary responsibilities on my parents. Like it or not I've taken on this stuff, or have had it pushed on me, and now I have to deal with it. I'm not alone or anything, but I sure as fuck am not in the ideal situation.
Hopefully that made sense. It probably didn't considering my track record tonight.
maybe I'll figure it out soon.
until next time
I have irrational fears about money, and obsess over how much I have and how I'm going to pay for things. My family wasn't poor or anything. Somehow frugality was simply instilled in me. My dad grew up poor and his father grew up during the depression. I can understand where some of this obsession comes from. The thing is that in the past I haven't let money stop me so much. I was ok with buying books and music regardless of money. I don't know what's changed, but lately I've been worried about how much I have and how much I don't.
I'm in debt right now and I have a little over a thousand dollars less a month coming in than I need in order to keep up with bills, without paying off my debt. This is with working thirty hours a week and using the money my family has saved up for years on end.
Julie is telling me money is easily attainable but that hasn't been my experience. I've done the whole applying for scholarships out the wazoo thing, and I've taken out loans. The thing is that it doesn't help. My dislike of all of this makes a certain amount of sense, but it is indeed irrational. However I know of lots of folks who worked their way through college. It's a common thing. I\I don't really understand how people can think that it's ok to just defer everything. I know that its ok to take loans and to focus on ones education, but what happened to contributing to your own education. The fact is that with the amount of money I was getting in financial aide loans and all didn't pay for the remainder that was left when my parents money was spent. (it's actually my money, long story, umm probably for later) I went further in debt because of that. Before I had my reckless spending binge while in a bout of clinical depression I already had debt from paying off parts of my school and housing etc. with my credit.
I don't know what to think right now. I don't want money to determine what I do, but I can't eist without my money figured out. Julie doesn't worry about money the same way, but I don't think it's just me being all irrational, though that is part of it. I think that some of it comes from the fact that I manage my money. I have to see where it goes, distribute it among accounts, spend it, and organise it. She doesn't do any of that. Her parents juggle the finances. They probably have to go through a similar set of hoops, but she never sees the hoops so her anxiety about money is subverted. I also imagine it's easier to get a loan when you have some twenty or thirty years of credit built up. as far as my parents taking out a loan, we already have some of those out, and I'm not sure where we are financially. Frankly money is the only thing my father and I really argue about.
Just like with everything else as of late I wish I could just drop it all and just curl up with Julie. That's all I want out of anything lately.
I can't fix my craziness in a flash, I can't fix my schooling in a flash, and I can't simply slough off my monetary responsibilities on my parents. Like it or not I've taken on this stuff, or have had it pushed on me, and now I have to deal with it. I'm not alone or anything, but I sure as fuck am not in the ideal situation.
Hopefully that made sense. It probably didn't considering my track record tonight.
maybe I'll figure it out soon.
until next time
Thursday, June 19, 2008
a wonderful day for my student
My student was wonderful today. He wasn't in the classroom the majority of the time. I thing these two things may be causal. He does very well if things are put forth clearly, and in a non-classroom environment that is much easier to do. (it sometimes feels impossible in the classroom).
He followed directions well, enjoyed himself, was happy throughout the day as opposed to off and on, and his aggressions were exceedingly rare. It just makes sense though.
The reason he was out of the classroom was for a bit of testing. It wasn't for analysis. What they were doing (they being two people from the district) was introducing him to a new communication system (just feeling it out). It went' well. I don't think the communication system would stick, but his behaviour and reactions during the testing were brilliant.
I was very proud of him. His mother was also there during this (as was my consultant) She expressed surprise about some of the things I was doing, in a good way that is. for instance, in order to lead him places, and to give him a good amount of tactile input, my hands are on his shoulders a whole lot. She was under the impression that he didn't like that. It's just one of those problems that comes up when you assume every whim and need. She doesn't require him to clearly show what he wants, and so he doesn't feel the need to. If all things he wants are just given to him, why should he be insistent about it.
I'm proud of him, and I think that perhaps a switch in his mothers brain is being triggered. Maybe she'll realise the harm (and disrespect for that mater) she does him by enabling him.
She is very dedicated to her son. That is certifiable, it's simply her refusal of advice from people who know what's going on. It's a common problem, and if she realises that is what's wrong, she will take advice, because she wants what's best for her son.
other than that my day has been relatively uneventful. I may have more things of interest later, but who really knows.
He followed directions well, enjoyed himself, was happy throughout the day as opposed to off and on, and his aggressions were exceedingly rare. It just makes sense though.
The reason he was out of the classroom was for a bit of testing. It wasn't for analysis. What they were doing (they being two people from the district) was introducing him to a new communication system (just feeling it out). It went' well. I don't think the communication system would stick, but his behaviour and reactions during the testing were brilliant.
I was very proud of him. His mother was also there during this (as was my consultant) She expressed surprise about some of the things I was doing, in a good way that is. for instance, in order to lead him places, and to give him a good amount of tactile input, my hands are on his shoulders a whole lot. She was under the impression that he didn't like that. It's just one of those problems that comes up when you assume every whim and need. She doesn't require him to clearly show what he wants, and so he doesn't feel the need to. If all things he wants are just given to him, why should he be insistent about it.
I'm proud of him, and I think that perhaps a switch in his mothers brain is being triggered. Maybe she'll realise the harm (and disrespect for that mater) she does him by enabling him.
She is very dedicated to her son. That is certifiable, it's simply her refusal of advice from people who know what's going on. It's a common problem, and if she realises that is what's wrong, she will take advice, because she wants what's best for her son.
other than that my day has been relatively uneventful. I may have more things of interest later, but who really knows.
Monday, June 16, 2008
post 100
I don't really feel it to be so important, but it is somewhat exciting that I'm to a one hundredth post. I'm still a little sick. I've been coughing and being up and about for more than ten minutes isn't so pleasant. I'm going to try to go in to work tomorrow anyways. I feel bad for missing a week or so of work, it just feels irresponsible, even if that's what was suggested to me by the doctor. I got an inhaler to help the coughing a bit, but that's all they could really do. It's a viral infection, and so I must let it run it's course. I can't say that's pleasing. I'm fine with it, but I hate being down, I'd rather be able to go back to work.
For the last few posts it seems that my blog has been largely complaint. I don't want to seem like the sort of person who complains endlessly.
I've watched a few football games in the euro cup, but I haven't been following too closely. I haven't a dog in that fight. I could route for just about anyone. For international Football its always Ireland at my top list. I like the Germans a lot, but that's partly due to my fascination at the skills of their goalkeeper during the world cup they played against Brasil.
I really wish I were up and about. That I've nothing more to talk about than a cold and football is really a shame. Not to say that I wouldn't be fine talking about those things.
I'm off to be sick some more. Perhaps I'll celebrate my hundredth post with some coffee. Hopefully I'll have more of interest to tell you later.
For the last few posts it seems that my blog has been largely complaint. I don't want to seem like the sort of person who complains endlessly.
I've watched a few football games in the euro cup, but I haven't been following too closely. I haven't a dog in that fight. I could route for just about anyone. For international Football its always Ireland at my top list. I like the Germans a lot, but that's partly due to my fascination at the skills of their goalkeeper during the world cup they played against Brasil.
I really wish I were up and about. That I've nothing more to talk about than a cold and football is really a shame. Not to say that I wouldn't be fine talking about those things.
I'm off to be sick some more. Perhaps I'll celebrate my hundredth post with some coffee. Hopefully I'll have more of interest to tell you later.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
despondence
My day has tripped along at an uneven pace. I kept wishing I could just have my life back. It's been like that for a while now. I've been doing all I can to get back into the flow of things (at least now I have) but I feel helpless. I'm in an un-enjoyable waiting time. I've done all I can, and all I am able to do now is trudge day by day back towards some modicum of normalcy. I've been sick this week which can't have helped my mood.
I don't mind the hard work, I just wish it wouldn't take so damn long. I really wish that all that I came up against stayed constant. I wish that the only problems I had to deal with were getting back to school and getting well. That of course isn't the case, and with debt, bills, and the general bullshit the world has to offer me, of course things don't feel right.
I am in a position to complain, I shouldn't. It won't do me any good, but I suppose that philosophy didn't do me any good while I was going crazy. I sometimes think about putting my fist through a wall. That's the key odd thing that pops into my brain as of late. I picture my hand slamming into plaster and the small fissures formed in the plaster, the slow-motion tearing of my skin. I picture my knuckles compressing along with the wall. I see the sharp edges scratch at the edges of my hand and wrist. It's a very involved picture. This is in a few seconds mind you. It takes longer to describe than it does to see and feel and think. I get somewhat convinced that I'm going to do this. I really _want_ to do this. It's just an obsessive thought, but it describes pretty well how I'm feeling. I just want to destroy something, my own well being be damned. I just want to fuck shit up. It isn't very rational. I try to be rational as often as possible. It doesn't make me very popular, though I suppose most of that is actually due to my lack of tact. I just want to destroy something. I imagine it's not an uncommon feeling among young men. Angry young men seem to be the norm. I just want to destroy something. Shooting things in video games only does so much.
I was having a particularly low bout in the middle of the day (the early evening by all actual accounts) I went and finally got a French-press, and made some coffee. It increased my jitters, but I felt somewhat better. That reminds me of another thing which bothers, the damn side effects from my drugs. The sexual side effects have been much less marked as of late. The details are unnecessary to go into. The shaking hasn't gotten better. It's not bad enough for me to lower the dose, especially as I'd rather have a bit of shaking than be confined to bed for days at a time.
I'm just fucking tired of everything. If I can't be well, and be with Julie, then I don't want to let the world be okay. I want to fuck things up. It's not ok for me to sit here doing nothing, being despondent. I need to fucking do something. It all stays pent up though, because what outlet is there? physical outlets don't do it (and this week I've been sick so of course those have been out). It's just something I don't know how to deal with. Anxiety, Fear, Helplessness, and Anger are my bedfellows. They get capitilisations because they are entities within themselves. I don't know how to deal with any of them. All of them are building. All of the signs point towards more of the same, or at the best a gradual incline towards something better.
I know that most of this ranting is in fact false. I know that I can do things, but I can't help but feel useless. I work, and I come home and that's it. I sometimes end up late on bills, and sometimes end up overdrawn on accounts. It's all really annoying, but ultimately this is what I have to do to get back to my feet. I have to trudge along like everyone else, and keep in the flow that the world requires of me. It's the only way I'll get the things I want, my sanity and a life with Julie (or at least a part of my life with Julie). I just have to continue working. I just wish the world didn't make it so damn hard.
I don't mind the hard work, I just wish it wouldn't take so damn long. I really wish that all that I came up against stayed constant. I wish that the only problems I had to deal with were getting back to school and getting well. That of course isn't the case, and with debt, bills, and the general bullshit the world has to offer me, of course things don't feel right.
I am in a position to complain, I shouldn't. It won't do me any good, but I suppose that philosophy didn't do me any good while I was going crazy. I sometimes think about putting my fist through a wall. That's the key odd thing that pops into my brain as of late. I picture my hand slamming into plaster and the small fissures formed in the plaster, the slow-motion tearing of my skin. I picture my knuckles compressing along with the wall. I see the sharp edges scratch at the edges of my hand and wrist. It's a very involved picture. This is in a few seconds mind you. It takes longer to describe than it does to see and feel and think. I get somewhat convinced that I'm going to do this. I really _want_ to do this. It's just an obsessive thought, but it describes pretty well how I'm feeling. I just want to destroy something, my own well being be damned. I just want to fuck shit up. It isn't very rational. I try to be rational as often as possible. It doesn't make me very popular, though I suppose most of that is actually due to my lack of tact. I just want to destroy something. I imagine it's not an uncommon feeling among young men. Angry young men seem to be the norm. I just want to destroy something. Shooting things in video games only does so much.
I was having a particularly low bout in the middle of the day (the early evening by all actual accounts) I went and finally got a French-press, and made some coffee. It increased my jitters, but I felt somewhat better. That reminds me of another thing which bothers, the damn side effects from my drugs. The sexual side effects have been much less marked as of late. The details are unnecessary to go into. The shaking hasn't gotten better. It's not bad enough for me to lower the dose, especially as I'd rather have a bit of shaking than be confined to bed for days at a time.
I'm just fucking tired of everything. If I can't be well, and be with Julie, then I don't want to let the world be okay. I want to fuck things up. It's not ok for me to sit here doing nothing, being despondent. I need to fucking do something. It all stays pent up though, because what outlet is there? physical outlets don't do it (and this week I've been sick so of course those have been out). It's just something I don't know how to deal with. Anxiety, Fear, Helplessness, and Anger are my bedfellows. They get capitilisations because they are entities within themselves. I don't know how to deal with any of them. All of them are building. All of the signs point towards more of the same, or at the best a gradual incline towards something better.
I know that most of this ranting is in fact false. I know that I can do things, but I can't help but feel useless. I work, and I come home and that's it. I sometimes end up late on bills, and sometimes end up overdrawn on accounts. It's all really annoying, but ultimately this is what I have to do to get back to my feet. I have to trudge along like everyone else, and keep in the flow that the world requires of me. It's the only way I'll get the things I want, my sanity and a life with Julie (or at least a part of my life with Julie). I just have to continue working. I just wish the world didn't make it so damn hard.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
a week of illness and an examination of storytelling
For the last three days or so I've been in bed sick. It's not too horribly pleasant. On the upside I was able to comendeer a few seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer from my girlfriend. I'm just now done with the second season. It was very very good. I'm likely one of the few fans of Firefly who had never seen any buffy. My girlfriend absolutely loves the show. I can see why of course, It's told very well and has good strong female characters.
That's certainly one reason I like it. I'm always interested in stories that put people who are written in a real way into situations which are by their very nature contrived. I've always had a thing for science fiction. The literature of ideas intrigues me. Ultimately it's characters who most take me out of my world, and in these situations which are completely new, it is amazing to see the way that characters work.
I imagine that many people would put the reading of fiction, watching of films, and listening to music into the enjoyable but mostly useless category. I don't think so. There was a good argument in a "introduction to Criticism" class that I went to a few sessions of. If someone writes about something, Whaling for instance, are they really an expert on it. For advice about whaling would you read Moby Dick, or would you want to speak to someone who spent their life whaling?
That is the general view of the worth of stories. What I think people miss is that they are their own study. I'm very interested in psychology and people, and stories are a very interesting way to explore. The insights I already have I feel I have gotten from reading and writing stories. Characters are rarely written to be completely human, but even when that is the case each of them must have very particular human characteristics. We deal with humans all the time and when we read a novel we have a feel for if the characters feel real or not. Reading stories give us a chance to see what is true of humanity by looking at what isn't. If a character feels false, feels dead, then there must be something not human about them. If a character feels vibrant there is a wealth of humanity filling them. This applies not only to human characters. Anything written by a human is ultimately about humans.
This could work out to essay size, and perhaps it will some time, but for now I'm going to go back to the work of getting better.
Until next time.
That's certainly one reason I like it. I'm always interested in stories that put people who are written in a real way into situations which are by their very nature contrived. I've always had a thing for science fiction. The literature of ideas intrigues me. Ultimately it's characters who most take me out of my world, and in these situations which are completely new, it is amazing to see the way that characters work.
I imagine that many people would put the reading of fiction, watching of films, and listening to music into the enjoyable but mostly useless category. I don't think so. There was a good argument in a "introduction to Criticism" class that I went to a few sessions of. If someone writes about something, Whaling for instance, are they really an expert on it. For advice about whaling would you read Moby Dick, or would you want to speak to someone who spent their life whaling?
That is the general view of the worth of stories. What I think people miss is that they are their own study. I'm very interested in psychology and people, and stories are a very interesting way to explore. The insights I already have I feel I have gotten from reading and writing stories. Characters are rarely written to be completely human, but even when that is the case each of them must have very particular human characteristics. We deal with humans all the time and when we read a novel we have a feel for if the characters feel real or not. Reading stories give us a chance to see what is true of humanity by looking at what isn't. If a character feels false, feels dead, then there must be something not human about them. If a character feels vibrant there is a wealth of humanity filling them. This applies not only to human characters. Anything written by a human is ultimately about humans.
This could work out to essay size, and perhaps it will some time, but for now I'm going to go back to the work of getting better.
Until next time.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
quickly passing time.
I've been drowning in a torrent of work. The hours are relatively low but the work is stressful. I've been focusing my writing efforts towards "The City, and a Misplaced Piece of Mind" I've not felt like doing much else.
I excel at my job. It makes me happy that this is the case, but my student is very hard to work with. He's been more difficult lately, and I have some lovely bruises to show for it. I still don't fault him, and I'm going to keep up the work. I don't much like his mother. This may have already been established, but if it wasn't it certainly is now.
I've already ranted enough about the mismanagement of his case throughout the years.
I've been rather blissful on the weekends, as Julie has been at home (about an hour from where I live). She's been coming to visit me, and I've been doing the same for her. The visits have been spectacular. I love her more now than I ever have, which is quite a feat considering the past two years. I'm going to see a new psychologist rather soon and look forward to the possible repair of my scattered brain. I've also been writing music. some of my strings broke on my guitar so I'm playing slightly different things at the moment, but I've about five songs that are up to performance standards when I've got all six strings.
I'll keep posting, hopefully with more frequency than I have.
I excel at my job. It makes me happy that this is the case, but my student is very hard to work with. He's been more difficult lately, and I have some lovely bruises to show for it. I still don't fault him, and I'm going to keep up the work. I don't much like his mother. This may have already been established, but if it wasn't it certainly is now.
I've already ranted enough about the mismanagement of his case throughout the years.
I've been rather blissful on the weekends, as Julie has been at home (about an hour from where I live). She's been coming to visit me, and I've been doing the same for her. The visits have been spectacular. I love her more now than I ever have, which is quite a feat considering the past two years. I'm going to see a new psychologist rather soon and look forward to the possible repair of my scattered brain. I've also been writing music. some of my strings broke on my guitar so I'm playing slightly different things at the moment, but I've about five songs that are up to performance standards when I've got all six strings.
I'll keep posting, hopefully with more frequency than I have.
Monday, May 19, 2008
a Monday, a headache, and a title for my novella.
Today went well for my student. He had fewer problems than he had most of last week. I however wasn't so lucky. I had a headache for the whole day. It wasn't particularly bad, but I had it over the weekend as well. It was very persistent. Last night I went to bed somewhere around ten or eleven (which is far earlier than I usually go to bed). I woke up at two ish, and at four ish, and at six ish. At four ish I went to takes of Ibuprofin and drink some water. that helped me sleep until six, and then at six I went back to bed. I was supposed to wake up at seven, but no such thing happened. I woke up fully and realised it was eight forty. My work is at least thirty minutes away from where I live. I drove quickly there but I still arrived a good ten Minutes late. the morning went well, but my head just kept throbbing. My left eye didn't want to stay open (this headache is only on the left side) and I was rather unhappy.
I managed to get some ibuprofin during lunch and so post lunch went somewhat more quickly. I got back home and managed to deposit a check my parents had sent me, and felt happy to have gotten that out of the way.
My headache isn't acting up right now thanks to ibuprofin (how I love thee). I'm sitting in my favourite coffee shop, listening to music and writing. I had been working on a title for my novella. I think I finally came up with one I like
This is tennetive but hopefully it works. "The city and a misplaced piece of mind"
It may not ring true to my later, but for now it's the best I've come up with.
The title for this story is pretty hard. No lines stand up as titles and I'm involved enough in the story that I can't very well explain it in a short emotive sentence.
I'll see how it goes.
I'll likely post tomorrow (if not sooner), perhaps sometime I'll try and post about something that isn't work, but for now that's what's kept me occupied.
adieu.
I managed to get some ibuprofin during lunch and so post lunch went somewhat more quickly. I got back home and managed to deposit a check my parents had sent me, and felt happy to have gotten that out of the way.
My headache isn't acting up right now thanks to ibuprofin (how I love thee). I'm sitting in my favourite coffee shop, listening to music and writing. I had been working on a title for my novella. I think I finally came up with one I like
This is tennetive but hopefully it works. "The city and a misplaced piece of mind"
It may not ring true to my later, but for now it's the best I've come up with.
The title for this story is pretty hard. No lines stand up as titles and I'm involved enough in the story that I can't very well explain it in a short emotive sentence.
I'll see how it goes.
I'll likely post tomorrow (if not sooner), perhaps sometime I'll try and post about something that isn't work, but for now that's what's kept me occupied.
adieu.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Ahh, Friday, Autism, Scripting, and my thoughts on Free Will.
I am done with the week. I have a few more scratches and bruises to show for it, and I'm not sure what to think about my students' improvement (or lack thereof). I feel overall alright about it. My student had a particularly bad day yesterday (thursday) He was aggressive all day. I'm not sure quite what it was, but he was sneezing a whole lot in the morning.
The whole day was me redirecting him away from aggressive behaviours. I have a number of open wounds from that. They're primarily on my left arm at about elbow level and on the front of my neck nigh the Adams apple. They aren't serious, but I can't say I like coming home from work with red marks down my neck and blood on my arms (this is after washing)
It's no fault of my student. His care has been so mismanaged in the past that you really can't blame him. He's gotten too used to getting things he needed very easily, and so never pushed himself. It's natural, and it's rather sad when it happens. It's going to be nice getting good data on how he's doing. We (being me and my supervisor) don't think the data that had been taken before was accurate. Setting a baseline of behaviour will make things much easier to deal with.
My predecessor wore long sleeves (every time I saw him at least). I've a feeling that this is why. I'd rather be cool and have some marks on my arms though. The thing is, my student doesn't have aggressions if given time to communicate, and if given the opportuninty to get enough rest. We have bad days when he hasn't had good sleep, and when his allergies are acting up. It makes sense. Honestly I still think it shouldn't take too much time before he starts to straighten up a bit. People have mentioned a marked difference.
I really hope they're right, because I can't stand the idea of a bright good kid being fucked over by poor management in the past. I don't know the particulars or the politics of it, and frankly I don't care. I just think that it's a shame he wasn't given the sort of help my organisation specialises in earlier.
In the long run, the track that his parents have set him on will make him incredibly dependent for a long time to come. (They've been very adamant about not having him go to behavioural schools or to the sorts of places that would help him.) As always in situations like this, where the child is hobbled despite natural ability, I wonder how much of it (subconsciously of course) is because the parents want to have the child dependent on them.
I get a lot of my thoughts on that from Eric Burns, particularly from his book "What do you say after you say Hello" It's quite good, and it's about the idea of Scripting. Scripting makes a lot of intuitive sense, and I imagine with more research could be developed further into a strongly applicable branch of psychology.
The primary idea is that we are scripted by those around us in our youth. The example I give most often is somewhat of an oversimplification, but of course no one ever wants to hear the long version, so here is my coloquial explanation.
Suppose that while you're growing up your parents say with some frequency (doesn't have to be a lot) "You're so much like your uncle mike" Mike is an alcoholic. They never mention this in concert with saying how much you're like him. However they tell stories about mike and his alcoholism. This gives you the script that you are expected to become an alcoholic.
This is an oversimplification, so If it seems too blunt, that's because it is. Scripts are very hard to break, and very few people manage to. That's not to say that scripts are all bad, one can be scripted for success (sounds like the title of a bad self help book). The main point is that most people, most of the time will develop in adherence to their script.
This fits into my beliefs regarding free will as well. I gather that all people have the chance to chose outside of what they're _bound_ to do. However, most people will not.
Hence the world being largely Deterministic. People have free will, but it doesn't negate the general flow of fate or whatever you want to call it. This works well as an explanation for certain anomalies caused by individuals.
This is something I could talk much much much much further on, but I'll refrain for the time being.
I think next week will be better with my student, I am happy that I have a nice weekend to relax, and I wish all who may read this a good weekend (even though I'll probably post tomorrow too).
The whole day was me redirecting him away from aggressive behaviours. I have a number of open wounds from that. They're primarily on my left arm at about elbow level and on the front of my neck nigh the Adams apple. They aren't serious, but I can't say I like coming home from work with red marks down my neck and blood on my arms (this is after washing)
It's no fault of my student. His care has been so mismanaged in the past that you really can't blame him. He's gotten too used to getting things he needed very easily, and so never pushed himself. It's natural, and it's rather sad when it happens. It's going to be nice getting good data on how he's doing. We (being me and my supervisor) don't think the data that had been taken before was accurate. Setting a baseline of behaviour will make things much easier to deal with.
My predecessor wore long sleeves (every time I saw him at least). I've a feeling that this is why. I'd rather be cool and have some marks on my arms though. The thing is, my student doesn't have aggressions if given time to communicate, and if given the opportuninty to get enough rest. We have bad days when he hasn't had good sleep, and when his allergies are acting up. It makes sense. Honestly I still think it shouldn't take too much time before he starts to straighten up a bit. People have mentioned a marked difference.
I really hope they're right, because I can't stand the idea of a bright good kid being fucked over by poor management in the past. I don't know the particulars or the politics of it, and frankly I don't care. I just think that it's a shame he wasn't given the sort of help my organisation specialises in earlier.
In the long run, the track that his parents have set him on will make him incredibly dependent for a long time to come. (They've been very adamant about not having him go to behavioural schools or to the sorts of places that would help him.) As always in situations like this, where the child is hobbled despite natural ability, I wonder how much of it (subconsciously of course) is because the parents want to have the child dependent on them.
I get a lot of my thoughts on that from Eric Burns, particularly from his book "What do you say after you say Hello" It's quite good, and it's about the idea of Scripting. Scripting makes a lot of intuitive sense, and I imagine with more research could be developed further into a strongly applicable branch of psychology.
The primary idea is that we are scripted by those around us in our youth. The example I give most often is somewhat of an oversimplification, but of course no one ever wants to hear the long version, so here is my coloquial explanation.
Suppose that while you're growing up your parents say with some frequency (doesn't have to be a lot) "You're so much like your uncle mike" Mike is an alcoholic. They never mention this in concert with saying how much you're like him. However they tell stories about mike and his alcoholism. This gives you the script that you are expected to become an alcoholic.
This is an oversimplification, so If it seems too blunt, that's because it is. Scripts are very hard to break, and very few people manage to. That's not to say that scripts are all bad, one can be scripted for success (sounds like the title of a bad self help book). The main point is that most people, most of the time will develop in adherence to their script.
This fits into my beliefs regarding free will as well. I gather that all people have the chance to chose outside of what they're _bound_ to do. However, most people will not.
Hence the world being largely Deterministic. People have free will, but it doesn't negate the general flow of fate or whatever you want to call it. This works well as an explanation for certain anomalies caused by individuals.
This is something I could talk much much much much further on, but I'll refrain for the time being.
I think next week will be better with my student, I am happy that I have a nice weekend to relax, and I wish all who may read this a good weekend (even though I'll probably post tomorrow too).
Monday, May 12, 2008
monday the twelfth
It's been a good Monday. I have some scratches and marks to show for it, but it went well.
My student's class went to a musical today. Sousical the musical. It was a production done by a local highschool. The showing was for just the school my student goes to. The school specialises in children with developmental disabilities.
What I saw of the musical was good. My student did have some trouble sitting still, and it was hard getting him to show me picture icons to ask for things when the lights were dimmed all the way down. We eventually went outside and walked about. we only walked for about fifteen minutes, and then the play was over. From then on my student was rather tired. He did well with all of his tasks, but got more easily frustrated after the change in routine.
He did a bit more grabbing aggressions, and dropped to the ground more frequently. He was clearly just tired. The aggressions weren't much of a problem, Though that is where I got the aforementioned scratches and marks. He's getting better at asking for things, and tomorrow should be better as it is on his usual schedule and he gets to swim.
He loves swiming. the class swims on Tuesday Wednesday and Thursday. On monday's and Fridays he continually goes back to his towel and swimming suit in anticipation.
A lot of people remarked on his improvement. I though perhaps some of it was making the rookie feel good, giving the new guy confidence, but it happened more, and after five or so times I took them seriously. (I knew my student was doing better, I just didn't figure it could be readily seen by outside observers)
I think it should be a good week for my student. Of course we'll see, but he's been getting better at asking for things, and he has been understanding that all he needs to do to get help for something is ask in some form we can know. This lessens the aggressions. I don't mind him grabbing onto my arm hard (well I mind, and more often than not it breaks skin, but I don't mind nearly as much as most people) but it will be nice when he only asks. He only has aggresions when he can't get his point across. It's relatively straightforward. I just have to continue through it, and keep the conversation going. I have colourful arms and some nicely stretched shirt collars now, but it's all for the better.(when he grabs at you sometimes he'll pull on your collar with both hands downwards trying to pull your face towards him. Sometimes he'll bite the centre of the shirt collar as well. The best way to deal with it is just support his weight by putting your arms against his, and giving no more reaction.) It can be somewhat hard to keep the reaction low when he give a really good pinch that breaks the skin, but it's an aquiered skill. If you jump too much when he grabs you or pinches you it reinforces the action. Since you jump at it, it's clear that he's gotten your full attention, and will likely get what he wants. We don't want him associating his aggressions with getting what he wants.
It's been going well so far.
The kid's bright, he just needs a vocabulary (in whatever form it may take, pictures words gestures anything really) to share it with others.
Sadly I don't think he'll ever be at normal functioning. I could be wrong of course, but he's thirteen and still non-vocal. Early intervention is the best way to deal with autism, and they botched it with him. I really wish the outfit I worked for could have gotten him when he was young (we specialise in really young children, and nipping it in the bud)
What I want for him when he's twenty can only happen if after I'm done working with him he's kept on the same general path, needing to practice his abilities and to learn new ones. I want him to be able to have some sort of a social life. I think it's doable. There's no doubt that we'll be able to get him to a level where he could live by himself if need be, I just want to make sure he has the skills to deal with people in non formal situations.
I'll keep you updated.
My student's class went to a musical today. Sousical the musical. It was a production done by a local highschool. The showing was for just the school my student goes to. The school specialises in children with developmental disabilities.
What I saw of the musical was good. My student did have some trouble sitting still, and it was hard getting him to show me picture icons to ask for things when the lights were dimmed all the way down. We eventually went outside and walked about. we only walked for about fifteen minutes, and then the play was over. From then on my student was rather tired. He did well with all of his tasks, but got more easily frustrated after the change in routine.
He did a bit more grabbing aggressions, and dropped to the ground more frequently. He was clearly just tired. The aggressions weren't much of a problem, Though that is where I got the aforementioned scratches and marks. He's getting better at asking for things, and tomorrow should be better as it is on his usual schedule and he gets to swim.
He loves swiming. the class swims on Tuesday Wednesday and Thursday. On monday's and Fridays he continually goes back to his towel and swimming suit in anticipation.
A lot of people remarked on his improvement. I though perhaps some of it was making the rookie feel good, giving the new guy confidence, but it happened more, and after five or so times I took them seriously. (I knew my student was doing better, I just didn't figure it could be readily seen by outside observers)
I think it should be a good week for my student. Of course we'll see, but he's been getting better at asking for things, and he has been understanding that all he needs to do to get help for something is ask in some form we can know. This lessens the aggressions. I don't mind him grabbing onto my arm hard (well I mind, and more often than not it breaks skin, but I don't mind nearly as much as most people) but it will be nice when he only asks. He only has aggresions when he can't get his point across. It's relatively straightforward. I just have to continue through it, and keep the conversation going. I have colourful arms and some nicely stretched shirt collars now, but it's all for the better.(when he grabs at you sometimes he'll pull on your collar with both hands downwards trying to pull your face towards him. Sometimes he'll bite the centre of the shirt collar as well. The best way to deal with it is just support his weight by putting your arms against his, and giving no more reaction.) It can be somewhat hard to keep the reaction low when he give a really good pinch that breaks the skin, but it's an aquiered skill. If you jump too much when he grabs you or pinches you it reinforces the action. Since you jump at it, it's clear that he's gotten your full attention, and will likely get what he wants. We don't want him associating his aggressions with getting what he wants.
It's been going well so far.
The kid's bright, he just needs a vocabulary (in whatever form it may take, pictures words gestures anything really) to share it with others.
Sadly I don't think he'll ever be at normal functioning. I could be wrong of course, but he's thirteen and still non-vocal. Early intervention is the best way to deal with autism, and they botched it with him. I really wish the outfit I worked for could have gotten him when he was young (we specialise in really young children, and nipping it in the bud)
What I want for him when he's twenty can only happen if after I'm done working with him he's kept on the same general path, needing to practice his abilities and to learn new ones. I want him to be able to have some sort of a social life. I think it's doable. There's no doubt that we'll be able to get him to a level where he could live by himself if need be, I just want to make sure he has the skills to deal with people in non formal situations.
I'll keep you updated.
Sleeping does not come easily tonight
It is one of those inexplicable times during which my head will not settle. I have tried my usual methods for getting to sleep, but here it is, three hours before my time to wake up, and I'm still as awake as I was at nine in the evening.
I don't have any good explanation for this, but some nights this happens. Of course this happens every night to Julie, so I don't have much to complain about if I've only got to deal with it once in a while.
I tried sleeping, but frankly lying in bed bored isn't going to help much, so I'm trying to do things. I've edited a good five pages of my story, I'm writing a blog post, I've been listening to music, I had a drink, I may have a snack. There really isn't much to do that wouldn't be a bother to those around me. I can't make music, but I suppose I may read from the book I'm working on or the magazines I purchased today. I got a copy of Paste magazine (I like it quite a lot) Since Punk Planet went under Paste is my favourite music magazine. I also got a magazine called Poets and Writers. It's interesting, and has articles on writing and writers and the sorts of things to be expected in a magazine with its name.
It also has a handy list of publications to which things could be submitted. I circled a number of them that might have interest in the story I'm working on. I probably still have four edits or so before it's ready to send out to anyone, but It's a good idea to know where to send It anyway. Considering how quickly I've been going through it, It may get done before I had expected. I got the manuscript sent back to me from my dad a few days ago, and now I'm about two thirds of the way through my second draft. There will need to be much polish, and I can't guarantee that the remainder of my work won't have vast swaths of new writing, but I'm optimistic about it. Perhaps that's only the foolishness of a beginning writer.
anyway, I'm going to continue trying to sleep. It's unlikely to happen quickly, but one can hope (though one certainly can't dream at a time like this)
I don't have any good explanation for this, but some nights this happens. Of course this happens every night to Julie, so I don't have much to complain about if I've only got to deal with it once in a while.
I tried sleeping, but frankly lying in bed bored isn't going to help much, so I'm trying to do things. I've edited a good five pages of my story, I'm writing a blog post, I've been listening to music, I had a drink, I may have a snack. There really isn't much to do that wouldn't be a bother to those around me. I can't make music, but I suppose I may read from the book I'm working on or the magazines I purchased today. I got a copy of Paste magazine (I like it quite a lot) Since Punk Planet went under Paste is my favourite music magazine. I also got a magazine called Poets and Writers. It's interesting, and has articles on writing and writers and the sorts of things to be expected in a magazine with its name.
It also has a handy list of publications to which things could be submitted. I circled a number of them that might have interest in the story I'm working on. I probably still have four edits or so before it's ready to send out to anyone, but It's a good idea to know where to send It anyway. Considering how quickly I've been going through it, It may get done before I had expected. I got the manuscript sent back to me from my dad a few days ago, and now I'm about two thirds of the way through my second draft. There will need to be much polish, and I can't guarantee that the remainder of my work won't have vast swaths of new writing, but I'm optimistic about it. Perhaps that's only the foolishness of a beginning writer.
anyway, I'm going to continue trying to sleep. It's unlikely to happen quickly, but one can hope (though one certainly can't dream at a time like this)
Friday, May 09, 2008
finally Independence
Today was a good day. I worked with my student by myself today. It went very well. The Aide he had been with was out for the day, so I was able to start my independent work a day early. It was much easier to deal with my student without conflicting messages flying around. it was my first time truly working with a student like this, so the first half of the morning I had lots of help from my supervisor, and gradually increased my skill. By the end of the day I felt pretty good about what I had been doing, and I felt that my student had improved.
He likes certain pressure points. He has a callous on his thumb from biting it, a bump on his arm from hitting himself, and a circle of hard skin at the space where his spine enters his head from pressing there. He likes pressure a lot. Understandably we're trying to decrease these behaviours. One well established methods is called a sensory diet. we haven't anything written up, but essentially periodically he is given certain allowed types of pressure by someone. He doesn't traditionally ask for it, but today I had him saying (in a way that was discernible from his other words but not very knowable to anyone else) Pressure when he wanted some. He is largely non-vocal and this is a huge step. I'm also going to have him use the Icon in his PECS book to show me. It's more reliable, but the vocal is great. He was very calm, and once I had gotten him saying Pressure He didn't have more of his aggressions.
I really like working with him, and I am glad that I got a kid who's both as cool as he is, and needs as much help as he does.
I had to get re-fingerprinted with the school district today as well. It didn't take very long, but I'm never a fan of that sort of thing. I've no serious plans for the evening, though a film and perhaps a party are likely options.
Monday should be nice. I want to see if the things he got to today stay with him over the weekend.
He likes certain pressure points. He has a callous on his thumb from biting it, a bump on his arm from hitting himself, and a circle of hard skin at the space where his spine enters his head from pressing there. He likes pressure a lot. Understandably we're trying to decrease these behaviours. One well established methods is called a sensory diet. we haven't anything written up, but essentially periodically he is given certain allowed types of pressure by someone. He doesn't traditionally ask for it, but today I had him saying (in a way that was discernible from his other words but not very knowable to anyone else) Pressure when he wanted some. He is largely non-vocal and this is a huge step. I'm also going to have him use the Icon in his PECS book to show me. It's more reliable, but the vocal is great. He was very calm, and once I had gotten him saying Pressure He didn't have more of his aggressions.
I really like working with him, and I am glad that I got a kid who's both as cool as he is, and needs as much help as he does.
I had to get re-fingerprinted with the school district today as well. It didn't take very long, but I'm never a fan of that sort of thing. I've no serious plans for the evening, though a film and perhaps a party are likely options.
Monday should be nice. I want to see if the things he got to today stay with him over the weekend.
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