The Mentally Different

I am not "special needs". I am mentally different.

The term "special needs" is, to me, a bit absurd. Taken literally, you could say everyone has special needs. Everyone has some kind of problem. And then there are the negative connotations. Nobody wants to be "special needs", though using the literal definition, everyone is!

The third complaint I have with this word is that it's too generic. "Special needs" lumps the blind with the deaf, with the physically disabled, the mentally disabled, and what I think of as the mentally different. "Special needs" encompasses people in wheelchairs, people with brain injuries, Einstein, sociopaths, and basically anyone who doesn't fit into the definition of normal. It's one of those umbrella terms that simultaneously means almost everything, and therefore almost nothing.

There is only one definition for mentally different.*

The mentally different (according to me), are those on the autism spectrum. Note the lack of positive or negative connotation; we're not the mentally disturbed, or gifted, just different. Everyone has "special needs", and we are no exception. But we also have special abilities. Positive and negative cancel, and we're left with a neutral term; mentally different.**

I am not disabled. I am different.

*Technically, everyone is unique and therefore mentally different (in the literal sense) but don't be a literalist; it can get annoying.

**This term applies especially to those with Asperger's Syndrome or high-functioning autism.

Internet Communication Reduces Misunderstandings!

Breaking News: Internet Communication Reduces Misunderstandings!

No, that's not a real headline.

Most people believe the Internet increases misunderstandings, unintentional offenses, and other social mistakes.

But I disagree.

The real world is practically infested (my favorite word) with opportunities for confusion. You can send the wrong message so many ways…the way you sit, the way you stand, your tone, your face, your hands–everything can become an offense.

The digital world, on the other hand, is much simpler: Communication is reduced to text, and occasionally a faceless, nameless voice coming out of a speaker.

One would think this would increase problems, but I think it reduces them. For example, on the Steam Community forums (computer gamers discuss games there), there are very few misunderstandings. There are plenty of arguments, trolls and other Internet phenomena, but for the most part, everyone understands each other's intentions pretty well.

I've been 'researching' (read: reading and occasionally posting on) the forums for about a month now, and have figured out why: The users have invented their own 'internet dialect,' mostly derived from texting abbreviations and BBCode. For example, the end tag /rant, while not an actual piece of code, prevents readers from taking offense at the crazy rant you posted with humorous intent. Smileys help convey your intentions–you might add a :p or a ;) to show you're not being completely serious. And if you don't have the right smiley, you can fall back on the code and type something like :overworked: to represent an overworked face.* You could write something like "You're right! Alien mind control is going to bring about the apocalypse! :crazy:", and instead of writing you off as a nutcase, people laugh at your silliness.

I haven't 'researched' other forums much, but the ones I do look at all have some version of Internet Dialect. The codes are slightly different, but it's the same idea. And speaking of ideas…

Yesterday, I accidentally offended my dad with a poorly written email. He got very upset and wrote an offended (and offensive) reply back! I don't think it would have happened if I had ended with a /rant tag, or a :p (or both.) What if the Internetters united to create a standard code? Everyone would learn it, use it in forums, email and chat, and Internet-related misunderstandings would be virtually eliminated! It could even make its way into spoken language (grammarians and English teachers would have a collective fit.)

Yes, I'm getting into nutty scifi ideas here, but it could happen…

*To be completely accurate, you have to put /noparse tags (which prevent the plaintext inside from converting into rich text) around this one, because the :o converts to an 'embarrassed' smiley.

Alter Ego 1: The AI

I am hiding in plain sight, without safety glasses, a bucket on my head or a box. I am not hiding under a table, or cocooned in a blanket, or protected by Mother. I am walking alone, unprotected, and yet I feel I am perfectly safe.

I am hiding in my mind.

You would not be able to tell, but I am not me today. I am one of my alter egos: AI-#15837, an artificial intelligence downloaded into a human body. '15837' is not afraid to talk to the sandwich deli man, ask for help finding something at the library, or even answer a stranger's question. She will not hide from unexpected noises, though she may start muttering about server errors. In keeping with her nature, she cannot process logical paradoxes except by announcing an error. But she can interact with other people without making too many social mistakes.

Today, I am her. I still answer to my real name; something I would never do three years ago. I look the same. I remember to avoid speaking in my computer-voice, and very likely nobody can tell. The difference is in processing. As me, I do not always stick to my social programs. '15837' does not follow them exactly, but she is programmed to be like a neurotypical, and avoids the sudden topic changes to headcrabs, or the invisible Klingon warbird parked in our driveway…etc. She does not talk unnecessarily (to lessen the chance of social mistakes), but she can engage in conversation. Basically, I am almost mimicking a neurotypical, but in a much more interesting way. Who wants to be like a normal person? I wouldn't be able to imitate a normal person. But I can, and I would rather be, an AI.

Programming Myself

I'm learning computer programming. So far, I know how to make a bug and three kinds of errors. The problem, I've determined, is that I'm not used to writing programs with proper syntax, meant to be understood by a real computer. Up until now, I have only made programs for myself. These take the form of scribbled flowcharts, if they're written down at all, which tell what to do in social situations. They are written in the simplified computer-language found in Scratch (game programming), or AppleScript.

I have several of these; one for starting a conversation, one for asking a store employee a question, etc… I do not carry them with me on paper, but in my mind. If I could, I would keep them on my clipboard and always have them at hand, but someone would certainly find them. At the moment I write this, nobody but me knows about my social programs, though my family will find out shortly when I post this post.

But why?

That, I'm sure, is the question every neurotypical will be asking. How can these complicated flowcharts, loops and if-else statements be the easiest way to learn?

Well, the truth is, I don't really know. Maybe it's because I think like a computer, although I'm not sure if I do. How can I know what the computer thinks? Or maybe because computer-language is the most concrete way of writing something that is not concrete at all. I asked my pragmatic therapist for some hard-and-fast rules on social interaction, but she couldn't come up with one. I couldn't either. Nothing is always appropriate (or inappropriate), but that's why I have different programs for different situations. It works most of the time, and that's better than saying whatever comes to mind, which hardly ever works. This idea is definitely a keeper.

Look behind you!

Look behind you!
Did you look? Probably not. But I did. I'm always looking behind, around, up, down; everywhere! You never know what could be sneaking up behind you. Probably nothing. But maybe…something.
I'm not paranoid, and I've never been attacked from behind. But it could happen. Of course, a piano could fall from an airplane and smash you as you walk down the street. I know it's very unlikely that a malevolent being could be sneaking up behind me…but I just checked anyway. You never know.

The world is a dangerous place; one where people can pop out and greet you unexpectedly, cars honk in your face for no apparent reason, and everything merits watching. It's unpredictable. Anything could happen. Unknown danger lurks in corners, in other people, and, yes, behind. This is the same world you neurotypicals live in, but seen from the perspective of one who is mentally different. Would I trade my perspective for yours? Maybe.

And yet, this dangerous world is usually tolerable, and, sometimes, wonderful. Places I am very familiar with are much safer (our house, the Co-op grocery store, the park where the homeschoolers' park day is)… Other places we visit less frequently are considered more hazardous, and completely unknown, new places are outright dangerous. Except for one exception: Outdoor places are always relatively safe. Yes, I know, there are wild animals and rattlesnakes, but there's something everywhere.  And even in safe places, I'm still watching. Caution is important, and being aware of my surroundings helps me notice things other people don't. My mother never notices signs that say 'Don't touch!', or 'This is not an exit' or 'Restrooms that way', but I do. Maybe I wouldn't trade after all.

Correcting Grammatical Errors (and other weird things I do)

Before I begin my post, I would like to apologize for not posting in a while: Sorry! We've been unimaginably busy with schoolwork, a camping trip, and various other departures from our normal routine. It's been Chaos Week for the last month, and I'm prefectly aware of the incongruity in that sentence.

I like saying absurd things –"They're identical except for the differences"– and writing odd things. I also tend to mispronounce words; usually by accident, but sometimes on purpose. For example, I am determined to say queue as "kweh-weh", because that's how it's spelled. If the dictionary writers wanted it pronounced "cue", they shouldn't have put in all those extra letters! And the word wrong – it's spelled wrong. I used to pronounce it wrong (incorrectly enunciating the 'w') – until I became distracted with other, more egregious violations of common sense in spelling. Like cello, which, when written, has always reminded me of an abbreviation for cellophane.

And refrigerator, which does not have a 'd' in it. For some reason, fridge does. Who thought that one up? You don't pronounce a 'd' in either word. All it does is contribute to poor spelling! Poor spelling is the bane of my existence! (Isn't that a dramatic sentence?)

And on the topic of poor spelling, that's another 'thing' I do – correct everything. If I'm walking through Trader Joe's and I see a misspelled sign, I stop, stare at it dramatically, and run off to notify the closest employee, usually an innocent guy stocking the shelves. I know he probably didn't do it, but he might know who did. And if it's especially catastrophic – say, a banner posted right above the door with an unneeded apostrophe, I might walk straight up to the manager and announce: "Did you know your sign is wrong?"

I have done this several times at a nearby Gelsons' supermarket, where a large, expensive and permanent sign about the farms their lettuce grows on has the word mountainous spelled mountaineous. Don't professional sign makers use spellcheck?

The only places exempt from these corrections are stores such as the Japanese market we often go to. Their signs probably make sense in Japanese, but when they get run through Google Translate, weird things start popping up. "Expired foods sale!" (I think that means "day-old bakery items".) "Sale: Leafy pie!" (Is that some sort of cookie? For some reason, sandwich cookies are referred to as 'pie' by Japanese stores.)

Everywhere else, though – if I've caught a misspelling or a grammatical error, they're going to know. Isn't it better to be corrected than appear stupid in front of thousands of customers?

But what does this have to do with being mentally different? (Do you like that euphemism? It's better than "special needs"…)

Well, when was the last time you saw a poorly written sign? Did you go point it out to the store's employees? Maybe you did; more likely you just went on with your day. I don't do that. The first time I see it I point it out, and if it's not fixed when we're back next week, I point it out again! "Excuse me, but that sign says "Pre-Christmas Sale" and it's January…" "Quintessence is spelled with an 'i' and you have it with an 'e'!" "Excuse me Mr. Store Manager Guy, but did you know your employees are abusing innocent apostrophes?"

If I was that store manager, I would want to know!

The Illusion of Normalcy-Part 2

March 11

The house is free of offensive signs, which I have filed away to put up later. The bathrooms are habitable and the yard is unusually neat. We've cleaned the car, and every Internet meme on every mirror has been erased. A vase of lemons stands on the buffet where a pile of art supplies used to be, and I've hidden the paper 'Swiss cheese on a spring'. Our house is normal…but are we?
I threaten my brother with doom if he quotes any video game characters. I go through my clothes, pushing my furry yellow Pikachu pajamas and home-decorated shirts to the back shelf. I should really search my brother's drawers and hide all his ratty sweatpants and chocolate smoothie-stained shirts, but he'd probably find them.

What else is wrong?

I remove a giant drawing of Jigglypuff from my brother's room and hide it in his closet. My list of hygiene behaviors is rolled up with the blank papers–I hope I don't forget to brush my hair. I've already filed away the Sonic the Hedgehog comic I was drawing, removed the sign above my door that says LAIR and erased the swear word from my whiteboard. I make a list of all the things to not perseverate about, and a list for my brother as well: Do NOT leave your room without pants! Do NOT recite the DirectTV commercial! And in large letters at the bottom: ABSOLUTELY NO CALLING ME A POTATO!!

March 13

So far, so good. No untoward signs of weirdness have popped up since Grandpa arrived. My room has, miraculously, stayed clean for five days. My brother has not quoted a single video game character. Every time I walk into the dining room, I'm tempted to write "COMBUSTIBLE LEMONS!" with a whiteboard marker on the glass vase full of lemons. But I'm not going to.
That afternoon, Mother replaces the lemons with Euphorbia flowers. The Euphorbia plant has toxic sap, and I imagine how funny it would be to put my generic 'POISON THING' sign behind it. I don't, but I do warn Grandpa about how the milky sap causes blisters if you get it on your skin.
Our plans to build a cardboard-and-packaging-foam spiky crusher (a hybrid of those found in Sonic the Hedgehog, Mario and Portal), are on hold, though I'm gathering materials. I think someone threw out my collection of squishy foam…
No blatant weirdness has manifested yet. But Grandpa is staying for almost a week. Can we keep it up?