Untitled post about imagination and love

It is 6 am. She is having her last cigarette in the shadows of the dark living room that she calls her own. No inspiration coming her way and insomnia disturbing her mind, she is contemplating her life so far..and thinking about him. She hears his voice even though she does not know the way it sounds, she feels his hands on her face, strong and manly, just as she imagined them to be. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said in a low, sleepy voice. She hears him whispering secrets to her ear, smiles at his jokes and shudders when he touches her lips with his. Excited because of his long awaited presence in the room, she turns another dusty page… 

 

Undercover Autistic: on disclosing autism in the (academic) workplace

Great post about the issues that emerge in one’s professional and private life when they are struggling with Autism. A lot of these thoughts and conclusions can also be applied to other so called disorders, like OCD, for example. Understanding is the key.

The Third Glance

Autistic – the word that I first heard applied to me my freshman year of college – it was weighted full of disdain, and I feared it. I feared it, knowing but little of the disorder I’d never really encountered, but had heard some very awful things about.

Autistic – the word that I learned more and more about, as I devoured everything I could read on the subject, which was just so utterly fascinating to me.

Autistic – the word that I learned explained the why of how I interacted with the world. The word that explained nearly everything that made me different from the people I was surrounded by.

Autistic – the word that gave me freedom from my fear and belief that I was just a completely broken person who would never succeed.

Autistic – the word that gave me power over myself and my environment.

Autistic…

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Holloway, a memory of a life

  
Today I was at a friend’s place, to hang out with her and chill out after hard day’s work. She is an artist, she has just graduated and now, she is at the crossroad in her life. We have all been there, I admit that I have been there at least two times in my life, and that is always the time when one has to decide what to do next in one’s life. There are no bad choices, and with every choice we make, we grow in every way possible. We learn. We create memories. We were listening ro her favorite band, Radiohead, and she showed me a book with illustrations by an artist who makes illustrations for their albums as well. The book in question was called Holloway, and it was written by Robert MacFarlane, in memory of his late friend. It is a reminiscence of their journey into the hollow ways in the deep parts of a forest somewhere in Britain. The text is followed by these dark, Gothic illustrations that represent their journey, a discovery of their own lives, their friendship and their time together. It is simple and beautiful in all its simplicity. It was made from memories, which makes this book a true piece of art, wven though not many people know about it. I didn’t know about its existence either until today. It has made my day and it reminded me of my friends and everyone I’ve left behind when I left. Memories are our own stories that need to be written down, not because there is a chance of forgetting them, no..but because they are oir own legacy to others that will come after us. I love memories, good and bad, because I have become the person that I am today because of them. If you ever get the chance, read Holloway, and allow yourself to go on a journey down the memory lane. 

 

Home after shock

I think that I was a bit overwhelmed with my visit home. It was relaxing and nice to spend time with my family and friends, and it was hot as hell, I am totally not used to that after living in Scotland for some time now. I am nit used to taking things easy, and you get a lot of that melloweness there especially in the sun and by the sea. I missed the sea so much though, after living next to it for twelwe years, it is hard not to live next to it anymore. The scent of sea salt in the air when you walk down the beach, the calmness that it imposes on you, and you accept it with enthusiasm..all those things were essential to me being who I am, among other stuff of course. Now when I am back, I am again busy with everything, a lot of writing jobs, a few photography gigs, and overall busy atmosphere which pleases me, and I feel happy. But, the nostalgia is kicking in, I miss some people so much that at times it becomes unbearable, and it is at times hard to concentrate. You know, weiting saves the day in my case! I love it so much that it makes me focus on everything and on my future career, which is going in the right direction, in its own pace. Now I get it, why writers write. It is not about the money or fame, it is about yoi being you, about creating new worlds, new characters, new everything. You are the creator of something beautiful and extraordinary and that is the one feeling that money cannot buy. I love writing and I will write until my last breath.  The photo represents the path forward through all the difficulties in life, and this place is one of my favorite places to write.