Isn't everyone a little bit Autistic? is the question answered in this video...

"When you line up your pens and think oh aren't I a little bit autistic, or when you have a routine that you like to stick to and you don't like to change it, that's not really the same thing as a lifetime of rejection and feeling like you don't fit in.  Not even a little bit."

Kayak roll visualization script

I've been working on a script for a roll visualization audio recording. Here is my roll:

"Rolling visualization, C2C, right hand roll.
I have flipped upside down. I tuck forwards and put both of my arms on the left side of the boat. I lift my hands, holding my paddle, out of the water, enough out of the water that I feel air on my wrists; the side of the boat is rough plastic and I feel that contact on my skin; the air on my wrists and the texture of the plastic are sensory markers for me. My wrists are cocked so that my forward blade is flat against the surface of the water. This is the set-up position.
Once I am in proper set-up position, I know I am safe and oriented, and any rocks or turbulent water I may encounter are distractions to be ignored. I remain calm and focus on the task at hand.
I swing my head, torso, and forward (right) hand out to the side of the boat, in one motion together, while arching my back. My goal is to be 90 degrees to the boat. My head leads this unfurling as I leave my tucked position. My right hand is forward of my head and stays on top of the water. My left hand is anchored to the hull of the boat and acts as a placekeeper; it is another sensory marker for me. My paddle is out of the surface of the water, so it is free to move to 90 degrees to the boat, without resistance from the water. My forward blade is flat so it doesn’t dive into the water or catch water as I swing around. Arching my back loads tension in my left side which is curled around the side of the boat in a C; that tension, when released, will drive the hip snap. This is the sweep.
When I feel myself 90 degrees to the boat I am in the position to hip snap. I pull up into the thigh brace on my right knee, and relax my left knee, while maintaining the arch in my back and drop my ear to my right shoulder. The boat rolls underneath me. The first thing to come upright is the boat, followed by my body, and last my head. As I surface my torso goes to an upright position; I pull my paddle to center over the boat; my left elbow goes in close to my torso as my left hand comes back to my shoulder as though I am holding a bar bell; my right elbow is in and down close to my torso and my right wrist is cocked back with knuckles in line with the back of the paddle blade. My back continues to hold the arch; my ear remains dropped to my right shoulder; this is the finish position.
I am centered over the boat and I take a paddle stroke to continue on my way."

NeuroLurking

Stashing this link to examine in detail later. 

https://neuroclastic.com/2020/03/03/are-you-a-neurolurker/

Meanwhile, here is a cat picture.

The Real Me

This is my favorite song, on my favorite album by The Who. 

On Not Being A Duck

Shared from: https://aspergersfromtheinside.com/2020/02/03/on-not-being-a-duck/

Anonymous

Imagine you find yourself at a lake filled with ducks. No other people around, just you and the ducks. 

You might spend a lot of time watching the ducks, learning their mannerisms and language, trying to understand their society. They’re fascinating creatures. But it’s often hard to understand. Duck behavior is not logical; at least, not logical to you. You are not a duck. It must be perfectly logical to the ducks. 

Occasionally, some of the ducks will notice you and come up to you. They quack at you, trying to interact with you. You’ve observed them enough that you can even guess at what they want. But when you try to quack back at them, it’s terrible. You’re just not equipped to quack properly. It’s a feeble impersonation at best, and the ducks are confused and unsatisfied. You feel foolish for even trying.

You wish you could explain to the ducks that you mean no offense, it’s just that, well, you’re not a duck. But you don’t know how to tell them. And you doubt they would understand anyway.

Over time it gets better. You learn how to quack much better. Sometimes you even sound like a real duck. At least, they’re convinced enough that they seem to accept you. You think to yourself, hey, maybe I am cut out to be a duck. 

Other times, you are reminded just how much you are not a duck. They invite you to go swimming with them. You can swim, sure, or at the very least stay afloat. But you can’t swim like a duck. They paddle effortlessly around with their webbed feet. They dive gracefully, and the water simply rolls off their backs when they resurface. No amount of observing them will ever give you their abilities. 

You try to tell yourself that it’s fine. You didn’t drown, after all. And the ducks even welcome you to come swimming with them again. But you also feel ashamed and inadequate for not being able to swim like the ducks can, frustrated that you will never, ever be able to swim like the ducks can. 

And then there’s the flying. You know you can’t fly. No matter how much you watch the ducks, no matter how good you become at imitating other duck behaviors, you just physically can’t fly. 

The ducks don’t seem to understand it. They seem to think it’s a choice you’ve made. To them, you’re just that strange duck that doesn’t like to fly. You still wish you could make them understand that you’re not a duck, you’ve just become adept at certain aspects of imitating one. But maybe it’s for the best that you don’t say anything. Maybe they’d think you’re crazy. Worse, maybe they’d be angry at you for pretending this whole time. 

So instead you just say nothing and keep pretending. You’re very good at it by now. But it can still be difficult at times. There are days when your throat is sore from the quacking that still isn’t, that will never be, completely natural. You still get exhausted from so much swimming; you’ve become a strong swimmer, but you just can’t keep up with the ducks. 

When they go off flying, you try to console yourself with all the things you can do that ducks can’t. You’re far, far better at walking on land, for instance. For a moment, you even feel superior. You could outrun any duck in a footrace! But footraces don’t matter to the ducks. And, if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not sure footraces matter to you. You really just want to fly…

Incredible video!

Kayak the Amazon:  An Expedition from Source to Sea from Don and Darcy on Vimeo.

Yep.