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Friday, March 7, 2008

The worst thing

You know, the worst part of Asperger Syndrome, and the rest of ASD, is the

I spend my whole day struggling to maintain my Stepin Fetchit NT persona,
so I can keep my job and keep getting paid. And even though I hate every
moment, I still gotta Be Nice and kiss ass to keep the dead presidents

It can be done, lots of us do it. But it's a constant effort, and it's
exhausting. At the end of the day, I don't even want to have to stick two
words together, not even a sentence, just a two word grunt. That's too

And I go out, and I sing karaoke, because I love to sing. And I'm willing
to devote the spare change I have left to that, because it's imortant to
me. Even that is a constant effort at showtime levels -- I still have to
pretend to socialize, but it's water-off-a-duck's-back socializing. If I
get it wrong, no one will care.

Except the women. Always the women.

I haven't gone blind at my advanced age. I still see and recognize
beautiful women. But I have very little to offer at my best. And ninety
percent of my best is already used up when I get out the door at work.
And then I have to figure out how to be that clever and articulate guy I
actually am, but I can't be, because I have nothing left to perform that
little show.

So, since I'm struggling along with a nickel's worth of socializing
energy, all I have left, and when it's most important to ME and I'm not
being a piece of meat for my employers -- I can't impress the womenfolk.

So I end up empty, worn out, angry and alone.

And absolutely none of those women I meet face to face will ever read

Welcome to my world. Here's your accordion.

Grizzly's Growls
The Life and Times of a Minor Local Celebrity
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