404 server error: The file or directory you requested could not be found. It may have been moved or deleted.
I've been practicing my computer voice, and I must say it's improved a lot. I've learned to slow at the end – de - let - ed…– and to add rANdom pitCH chANgeS in the middle of words. Of course, I'm also practicing my r's…see, it's educational! And useful! And…
"STOP PERSEVERATING!!" My dad does not appreciate this new skill. He's irritated; why, exactly, I have no idea. So I switch to my other favorite error, which may or may not exist:
Error: An error occurred, but the error message could not be retrieved due to another error.
Cue endless repetitions as I figure out which syllables to incorrectly emphasize; where to change pitch; where to slow down. My mother thinks it's cute – not me, but the actual error, which I found on the Internet. My dad thinks I should stop perseverating. I think it's educational.
First of all, computers are very precise in their language, so I'm learning to enunciate. I'm adding emphasis to my words – true, it's in the wrong places – but that's easy to fix. I've been told I speak in a monotone, so this might be useful.
Second, I've learned most of the 400 and 500 series of server errors, and what causes some of them. 500– internal server error. 402– payment required 405– method not allowed. Which leads me to methods, and servers, and now I'm distracted…again!
Third, and most importantly, I'm learning to listen. Apparently neurotypicals can pick up on all kinds of things from the way people talk. I don't think I can, but maybe I just need to listen. I listen very carefully to GLaDOS and Siri (who, incidentally, is also a bit evil) and our GPS, not to discern some extra meaning from their words, but to mimic them. Not quite the same, I know, but isn't that the first step? If I don't learn this, I'll never get the rest.
See, Daddy? Now, let's hope he's stopped complaining…
404 sERver errOr: The fiLe or direcTORy yoU requESted couLD not bE FOund. IT may haVe BEen mOved oR de-le - ted…
"STOP IT! NO MORE PERSEVERATING!"
Showing posts with label video games. Show all posts
Showing posts with label video games. Show all posts
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Saturday, February 25, 2012
The Illusion of Normalcy- Part 1
"Yikes!" I announce while updating iCal. I have been looking at the events in the next two weeks, and just realized how soon my grandpa is visiting! And he's going to stay at our house…double yikes!
I look around my room. Clothing and books litter the floor. Messy, but not unusual. The door is covered in signage: "Beware of autistic person!" "No Internet memes!". Oh, dear…A large sign on the wall helps me remember to do things like shower and zip my pants. Definitely abnormal.
I walk out into the hallway. Our floor-to-ceiling mirror is decorated with lists of homophones and, in giant letters: "ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US". A 1up mushroom and a Piranha Plant lurk next to a monkey sticker. I think it's interesting. Mother thinks we'd better clean it up. (She's probably right.)
I continue my tour of our house, searching for the odd and abnormal things we'll have to remove or hide. A list of fats is taped to the refrigerator–the unhealthy saturated fats are marked with a skull and crossbones. Every bathroom mirror reads: "Public service announcement: always check the toilet for giant sewer rats!". A paper Swiss cheese on a spring is stuck to our magnet board. The door to the laundry room bears a warning: "Poisonous gases!" Everywhere there are sesquipedalian announcements about preventing ant invasions. A giant drawing of Jigglypuff is magnetized to my brother's dartboard. In several places, I have carefully written "THE CAKE IS A LIE" with a dry-erase marker, just as it appeared in Portal.
Just to clarify matters, our house is not a dump. My mother worked very hard to make it aesthetically pleasing, and kindly did not protest when I put a sign reading "LAIR" above my door, and we decorated the hallway with a life-size cardboard Mewtwo.
Before Grandpa comes, I imagine, we will go on a Weirdness Hunt, tracking down the unusual signage and wiping the mirrors clean. For a few weeks, our house will look like a normal family lives in it. Then, slowly, the weirdness will reappear. I will save the signs we remove and tape them back up after Grandpa leaves. My brother will decorate the mirror again. Maybe I'll decorate my door with Portal-style warning signs–in case you can't tell, Portal and Portal 2 is my newest temporary perseveration.
I look around my room. Clothing and books litter the floor. Messy, but not unusual. The door is covered in signage: "Beware of autistic person!" "No Internet memes!". Oh, dear…A large sign on the wall helps me remember to do things like shower and zip my pants. Definitely abnormal.
I walk out into the hallway. Our floor-to-ceiling mirror is decorated with lists of homophones and, in giant letters: "ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US". A 1up mushroom and a Piranha Plant lurk next to a monkey sticker. I think it's interesting. Mother thinks we'd better clean it up. (She's probably right.)
I continue my tour of our house, searching for the odd and abnormal things we'll have to remove or hide. A list of fats is taped to the refrigerator–the unhealthy saturated fats are marked with a skull and crossbones. Every bathroom mirror reads: "Public service announcement: always check the toilet for giant sewer rats!". A paper Swiss cheese on a spring is stuck to our magnet board. The door to the laundry room bears a warning: "Poisonous gases!" Everywhere there are sesquipedalian announcements about preventing ant invasions. A giant drawing of Jigglypuff is magnetized to my brother's dartboard. In several places, I have carefully written "THE CAKE IS A LIE" with a dry-erase marker, just as it appeared in Portal.
Just to clarify matters, our house is not a dump. My mother worked very hard to make it aesthetically pleasing, and kindly did not protest when I put a sign reading "LAIR" above my door, and we decorated the hallway with a life-size cardboard Mewtwo.
Before Grandpa comes, I imagine, we will go on a Weirdness Hunt, tracking down the unusual signage and wiping the mirrors clean. For a few weeks, our house will look like a normal family lives in it. Then, slowly, the weirdness will reappear. I will save the signs we remove and tape them back up after Grandpa leaves. My brother will decorate the mirror again. Maybe I'll decorate my door with Portal-style warning signs–in case you can't tell, Portal and Portal 2 is my newest temporary perseveration.
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