F-ck Father’s Day: You Oughta Know! (Karaoke style)

Every year on Father’s Day, I sing the song to Alanis Morrisette’s You Oughta Know. Because my raw emotions of recent discovery that not only my father not only denied creating me at conception or after birth, but had the audacity to get away trying to burry the body in the closet to my two half siblings who didn’t know I even existed until something hit their Facebook activities in March of 2019 – that was me! Not only that I took the flack for over a year making the mistake of sharing and tagging to only realize, why am I blaming myself? My father should’ve known better!

I was cheated on! He was a 19 year old young man who was such a chauvinistic  dick, that when the moment he had to be a “man” he went into the fucking fetal position and denied, deflect, and defend he did nuttin! This so-called “man” really acted like a pussy, excuse me while I use such vulgarities WITHOUT pride and self gratification! 

He rather see me dead! But hell, he’s buddies with all the female cousins and apparently the sisters too. Maybe he’d respect the existence if I was born a female?

I will never call him a “dad” – he denies the existence of this individual, but why do some members of the family expect that I should respect a man who pisses on masculinity?

I HATE HIM. FROM CONCEPTION, TO BIRTH, FROM WOMB TO THE TOMB. THIS MAN WAS A DICK, IS A DICK, AND WILL DIE AS ONE TOO! 

Father’s Day can suck my dick, and gag on it!

When my Mother Lost Me…

My mother’s social network is very small, mostly two couples, that lean hard right. That barely understands this hot mess of my ASD, that is slightly below typical, but slightly above the average atypical. One of her “friends” has an un’dx case of ADHD, because of course it’s just like ASD. Notice how sarcastic I mean… it’s completely different. While the Fraud on Broad is dead, I believe this what infers to my “low-average IQ” that Ms. Bolick was selling to “the system” as broken-goods.

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Close to brain dead…

I have suspected my brain is heading to severe damage. This is by no means this is being light hearted. Between the damages occurring at the end of the 20th Century, the injustice from that time; to the chaos that was during COVID, getting COVID, and continued mix of sheltering in place and being quarantined during the infection; and the lack of a near term outcome has put a lethal mix going forward. I already was damaged prior to March of 2020, the pre, present and post pandemic situation has made my situation at no point of recovery.

I am afraid I am going to die with my brain exploding internally from all the stress and anxiety that has went skyfold 2 years ago and suspecting it could be another 2 years of uncertainty and lack of stability, and responsibility being pushed solely on me.

I am so angry… I ask myself why I have to be on the receiving end yet again? Why can I not function? Why is everyone around me appears to me to be inpatient and I choose to be who I am?

Autism is not a choice.

Life is not a choice.

Hierarchal children do not ask to be born.

Satan: please take this soul way, I am at a loss now.

 

Lacking Emotional Regulation (Surrounding People)

I am not allowed to be sad, not because of my autism, because it’s too-much for the people in my life.

I do not like to be depressed either, but sadly since my late teens, I have not been allowed the chance to emote properly. The highest range is happiness, and the lowest range is mildly sad. If I have long face, that sends triggers to the mama-bear who feels a need to “fix” the problem to make her feel better. Because the old woman cannot distance herself from the lower thresholds of emotion, I cannot be sad. And if I am sad, she becomes sad.

So sadly, I have been stoic for the last two years in an unique way. I am gracefully being happy while so much shit has been falling to the fan behind me. My mother prides on a quote from a no-name author with zero credentials of “Your only happy if you have the happiest child”, some random BS like that. And being the only child, just makes that pressure even worse, and the mother who can’t sympathize with the autistic child, I mean hierarchal autistic child, doesn’t get it and she refuses to understand.

I know i have a survival rate of 2 years if SHTF, but it has not been tested for a really bad recession (of which I had been calling since 2019) to follow a pandemic. I do not care how my mother wants to spin a version of reality, I want to be able to feel the way I need to feel, and my mother wants to project arrogance (masqueraded as “pride” – of everything’s chill.) At this point the ol woman is acting like a notorious abusive man.

The inability to have proper emotional control has made the situation inherently worse than like any child of any age, to have the self trademarked feelings of present events. To dismiss and project, is basically gaslighting. And if my mother is wondering why my contact has been limited, to even in some instances no-contact while living 24x7x365 for the last couple of years, her brused ego has gotten in the way for me to process the emotions I want to process.

I do not sense any level of recovery anytime soon. I think the best days of my life have passed by me by pure maternal politics and unreasonable control over autonomy and the only way to grieve is silence. Then she wonders why I am so quiet, but the moment I start talking, she goes back to the projection, unhealthy optimism and poor feedback when it comes to empathy.

As my mother would say (and I never use this personally) I cannot win.

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The Intentionally Imperfect Job Market/Carreers

When I was at the mall more than a month ago, on the same day I went livid on social media because this was what I felt was a contributing factor of the events that day; I felt pressured to check out as the sales associates I felt assumed because I was a guy, I was trying to go in and out.

The place was the local American Eagle Outfitters. The following Tuesday, I returned the pair of shorts because I was so disgusted by the feelings of the sales associates, just kinda wanted me out kinda thing. Obviously I didn’t want to do it the same day, and I was going to politely tell off my experience the Thursday before, but on that Tuesday the sales associate didn’t even know how to properly do the return process on their touch based Point of Sale system.

I started to realize that I wonder if employers are intentionally hiring the worse people in the name of “profits”, but the more snootier you are the more you’re going to sell. As I previously mentioned, I applied for a retail position, and the company was actually AEO. The actual store I was applying for was really cringey in recent weeks. When I went there recently, spotted the typical cute girls I try to socialize with (or in fact network), regardless, a guy literally was swooping in pass me to the girl of interest and it was like they were dating at work.

I see this crap and say to myself, OK I may had been too wordy in the resume, and cover letter and hobbled a little bit in the interview and put crazy four hour increment  schedules; but what I see is apparent typical people in jobs they don’t even give a flying crap about – and getting paid for it while I am just slightly below the typical people normal of acceptance and I feel it’s a harder obstacle.

It goes back to the core issue of where are the good people? Where are the nice, professional and bubbly people that drives customers in? Why are they all to themselves amongst the sales associates? 

AEO knows what’s on my mind (as the minifig newsie)

https://twitter.com/MinifigNewsguy/status/1538913369150955522

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The legacy of the “label”…

While it was 28 years ago I was diagnosed with a now outdated diagnosis from the previous version of the DSM…

In the last few years, my legacy was written when it was told to me just over 22 years ago. The PDD-NOS diagnosis is really a definition of unable to do anything. It was then I was delegitimized. It was then my condition would then turn my situation into feeling inadequate…incompetent…feeling or causing despair about something… oh wait did I use my Dictionary.app and find the definition of “hopeless”? For fuck sakes alive… I thought I was being some cultist thinking all of this was some bad dream I was living the life!

Well regardless, for many who were 80s babies (like me – totally forgotten and non existent to society) – being told you had PDD-NOS in the 90s was like getting the death sentence. It’s not even close to melodrama…

In 2019, the political pollster, Frank Luntz told Frontline in a raw interview the following

“And everyone who speaks in that language that dismisses a community or dismisses somebody else, we are not just trashing them. We are dehumanizing them; we are delegitimizing them. And when you get that far, that you have no right to exist, that you have nothing to contribute to society, when we make that decision, that there is no recovering; there is no coming back, because you cease to exist. And that is where we are right now. And it scares the shit out of me because you can’t show me a time when democracy recovered.”

Frank Luntz, on the division of the US recorded in late 2019, click on the link to see this in context.

But again I must be some cultist who just is on the web too many hours a day, acting unruly with a parent that has allowed his kid to (in some ways) to mess around and not have to deal with accountability of which, kids (adults or children) have to screw around to learn risk and I have had my share of paying for responsibility… in some ways a lot more than for others that should take some responsibility and be accountable for their in-actions.

Of course, I can’t control the other’s not respond of course, I don’t need that speel again.

There’s a reason why I go-silent. Because I lost it at trying to telegraph how I feel and how others just want to really shut me up. As much as I feel that my mother should burry me, on one hand, I would feel worse for my gram and by Bachiyan (my paternal grandmother)… at least in that context I should be burying them, but in the last several years I have felt very, very distraught, and there is no point to go back to my childhood where it seemed I didn’t have to worry about my reputation and constantly check on my social capital every few minutes.

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Steven Talks to His Younger Self…

If I were to look at a picture of the younger me prior to 1999… I would say this:

Steven. Don’t make tell you I told you so… but all your present dreams will not happen. You’ll be entering into hell. You know… the thing that’s opposite from heaven and rhymes with bell? It’s best to stop dreaming your life when you hit 16, 18 or 21. It will not be as dreamy and as ideal as you think…

And this is what brought me to An Alleged AutisticA Puzzling View on Relationships and 2020:Hopeless Autistic. If only I stopped believing in myself then, maybe I wouldn’t been so angry later.

Let Down by Liz [Plank], part 2

A continuation of “What Did a ‘Feminist That Loves Men’ Do to You Personally?”

January/February 2022: Methodology of Communicating to Ms. Plank (Do. Not. Screw. This. Up!)

There wasn’t just a high awareness of who I was reaching out to. Her Airplane Mode Substack is less of social media (allegedly because she posts screengrabs of her social media); and posting positive stuff, for loving men, she trashes some, but she spills her guts as if she’s not a public figure and asks her subscribers to pay her $50 a year may I quote directly…

“If you follow me on social media, then I would appreciate it if you could make my work possible by subscribing of the media it’s my main source of income and subscribing is the best way to support my work and help me make sure I can pay my insurance premium every month so that I can keep taking the ADHD medication that allows me to keep writing this newsletter which pays for the ADHD medication.” [From Ms. Plank’s about page on her Substack.]

I will not label strangers, but I cannot confirm for sure if she has ADHD, I am assuming she’s typical unless something is verifiable. My mother told me to be careful sending money to strangers (even for public figures), and by not paying you cannot comment of any posts or see the post on Stacy London – who drives me nutso since her stupid TV series What Not to Wear aired when I was in high school. The Karen before there was a Karen… damn those GenXers. Again, the only way to get to her attention is to call out not call-in.

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Let Down by Liz [Plank]

UPDATED: June 10th, 2022 (to add a couple screengrabs of Plank’s apparent personality from a late 2019 podcast.)

How Yours Truly Discovered a “Feminist that loves Men”…to only be let down – YET again.

I have not told the story about my attempts to reach out to Elizabeth (“Liz”) Plank, a self-billed fashionable “feminist who loves men” until today. Being the atypical autistic, I would take any  tagline with a grain of salt and not at face value (such as taking it literally). This narrative is actually a personal account of what has been nearly six months of attempted contacts to no avail, and how very sensitive I had done to not cross any lines (or ruffle-anyones-feathers.) It seems apparent that yours truly was not appropriate enough to get her attention.

Please note: I do receive services (but as you can read, it’s not for people with this borderline of autism and have been subjected to seeing an alarming decline of quality of services approximately beginning in 2015.) Since a crisis in 2016, I have been working with a mental health professional explicitly experienced with ASD and psychological trauma almost for every Wednesday since June of that year. Even during COVID via Zoom.

AND LASTLY: This will most likely be tagged publicly to Liz Plank’s social media channels with the intention this will not be even seen or paid attention to, leading to a potential unexpected reactions because I tend to post stuff where people unexpectedly react with the expectation no one will even notice. (Wonder why I am in therapy every other week?)

Watching Liz was like watching a police pursuit where you would stop and watch her talk. She’s certainly not an airhead being groomed to TV.

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