Thinker Unplugged

It was just another day when it began.

I didn’t have the most demanding job in the world. My responsibility? I fixed things when no one else could. My ability? I’m autistic. However, no one in the company knows this. It did not seem something to be discussed because there was low possibility I would be triggered by things. For the most part, I was going to get left alone.

I rarely ever dealt with the company president. He was a ball of energy that loved to yap about everything. If something wasn’t going his way, everyone would know about it. If something WAS going his way? Well, everyone would know about that, too. My supervisor did well to keep my shielded from him. One day, it was just unavoidable.

Something wasn’t working right on the company president’s computer. A third party had brought in a new machine to replace an old one…but didn’t bother to check if the setup was supposed to be something more than “standard”. I got sent over to have a look at it. As I knock on his door, the incessant verbal diarrhoea begins.

“I tell ya,” he begins in a Southern accent that would be comical to any bystander not from around here, “These boys came in here and set this newfangled machinery up. But when they left, I went to do it this way, click here, move that there…” I stop hearing what he is saying. He’s already lost me. I picked up what he was saying, but now he’s venting his frustration about it, as if HIS frustration is going to help ME fix it.

Finally, the president arises out of his Doctor Claw-style chair and allows me to sit down at his computer.

Over the course of the next twenty minutes, two things happened:

One, I kept on trying to find the problem and fix it. I kept searching and searching. It had been pounded in to me as a child, then as a teenager, then when I got out on my own, that my first answer was never the right answer. I jumped to too many conclusions. I didn’t take enough time to think about things. If I thought I had an answer, the second one I came up with would be right. It was always my fault, problem, or issue. So I am already beating myself up as everything I find and try doesn’t rectify the situation.

Two, the president kept on coming back in the office. He was worked up. He was hyper. Furthermore, he kept asking me questions. Then he kept dismissing my answers. I provided him with ways to get around his problem. He kept asking me about other angles I had already covered, then start saying he needed to get a technician from the third party back out here to “fix what they broke”.

Why is he even paying me money? Why do I get a pay cheque if he won’t let me do my work? Why am I employed if he’s not taking me up on my suggestions? Then I remember, he’s a modern version of Don Draper. He’s a carry-over from the time when it had to be a certain way. He’s a hold over from when workers weren’t paid to think.

“OK, go ahead and call them,” I say, in reference to the third party technician. I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t say it, even if I knew what I wanted to say. Furthermore, I just wanted to SCREAMMMMMM!!!

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

As I head back to my office, I stop by my supervisor’s office to inform him of the goings-on. I’m sure he didn’t realise anything was going on with me. But, inside my head, I fought to read back the script of the highlights to him.

I wanted to scream, again and again.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I wanted to cry.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I wanted to curl up in a ball and keep myself in a corner on the floor.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I was silently yelling the rest of the day. It was the same feeling as when you injure a joint, and it starts to swell up. It was the same tension on the surface of a balloon as it receives the air necessary to float, hoping not to encounter a sharp object to burst that tension. But how good it would feel to release that tension. How good it would feel for a little relief and release.

How good would it actually feel to yell out loud?

Music to the ears of children

Dread and terror in the minds of adults

A day full of laughter and fun

A day where the kids bring to the surface all our faults

A day free from school

A day free from work

Maybe the teacher will forget the quiz like a fool

Catching up on emails that continue to lurk

May it never end!

Please let it be over soon!

Let’s just move to the tropics!

To be upfront, I support why today’s National Walkout Day is happening. The violence levels in our country are staggering compared to when I was growing up. It seems no one for sure knows why. Let me hit some points on this:

• It is pretty feasible that most of these shootings happening at churches and schools are because those are the places that are easiest to hit. It is disturbing to me that churches are undergoing security classes and active shooter training. It’s even more disturbing that we have to talk about this with kids at school.
• I don’t know that any changes in the law will help. This is a cultural problem. These issues start at home.
• As much as mass protests have helped change the course of history, I’m not certain we’re at a point where it will work any more. You’ve already seen how so many protests in the last 12 months have failed to move the needle even a centimetre. Unfortunately, I don’t know what will move the needle short of an all out revolution.

That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. — Preamble of the Declaration of Independence

• For those who are railing against school leadership who have announced suspensions for those who walk out of school today, please understand they are within their right. No matter what beliefs they have, they are tasked with the protection and education of their students. Students walking out disturbs the education that is supposed to be going on, as well as prevents the school from exercising the full effort of security over those students. They are just doing their jobs.

The facts of the case are, something has got to give. What will it be?

So, most people who identify as fans of Insane Clown Posse also self-identify as juggalos. Of course, currently, the FBI identifies all juggalos as a gang. (For me, it’s a morbid curiosity. I’m also a fan of some of the comedy they strike up in their lyrics.) Juggalos, because they follow their ICP-masters, love Faygo. Faygo is the stuff of legends in ICP lyrics. And unless you're from the great state of Michigan, there exists some level of possibility you’ve never heard of Faygo.

I’ve known Faygo from the lyrics. I always thought it was a soda.

This morning, in my town I live in ways away from Michigan, I found out it is more than just a soda. It’s a whole brand. They have many different flavours, including a very delicious root beer, and a ginger ale that lives up to its billing of “Extra Dry”.

They also have funny nutrition labels. For a 24 ounce bottle, it only gives the nutritional value for 8 OUNCES!

Taste so good. But it’s terrible for you. All at $1/bottle!

Death comes cheaply, but to live cost an arm and a leg.

So the other day when I was chest deep in a manic episode I had never experienced before, I had been watching “Good Morning Vietnam.” I was never really allowed to see the movie as a kid. Now I understand why my parents chose to keep me from it.

My partner had asked me to pick up a red wine. They needed Chianti because of the leftover Italian food they were planning on eating. There was no Chianti in the store I went to, so I went to the wall of red wine blends. I had a heyday with the names and imagery on the labels of each blend. In fact, it felt like I was channelling Robin Williams while I stood there.

Now I love cracking jokes. Many people might think they’re stupid jokes, but I still love cracking them. This day, standing in front of the red wine blends, I was firing them off non-stop, much like Robin Williams would likely do. My partner told me when I got home “it’s just because you were watching the movie.” Funny thing is, I haven’t stood up and identified every time I’ve done something like that.

I was up at half past four this morning. (Yes, these meds have been screwing with my sleep.) Since we are mid-Christmas lag on shows that are on the DVR, I still had “Good Morning Vietnam” on there to watch.

Back to my title…

“Robin Williams is my spirit animal…”

It may or may not be Robin Williams. It maybe the character he portrayed in this movie, Adrian Cronauer (which I only just now learned when double-checking the spelling that Adrian was a real person). But either way, the performance spoke to me. All he wanted to do in this movie was make people happy (seems like that was Robin Williams’ life work as well). When Cronauer was reinstated on the air, he didn’t want to go. But when given a chance to make soldiers smile and laugh again, he realised he wanted to be back on the air. There’s nothing he enjoyed more than making others smile.

I’ll be honest. After the scene where Cronauer was doing impromptu stand-up for the soldiers about to ship out to the front, I cried. I cried because Cronauer realised the importance of what he was doing. I cried because he finally got that their laughter made him feel good.

This is even a revelation for me because of a job I applied for yesterday. It was for a creative manager to work with a design team. It asked for five years design experience. I’ve not had design jobs. But I have had jobs where I’ve done design as part of my work. But what the main part of the job description was that spoke to me was the mentoring and developing of the design team as people, in addition to driving the project work that the team does.

I never have had aspirations of being famous. I don’t want that kind of attention. But what I do want is to be known for helping develop someone who has become famous. It does my heart good to know I had a hand somewhere along the line in turning them in to what they want to be.

So, I have been writing out in the open. I feel like I need to be open with what I have to say, because it is important for others to learn and understand what goes on in the mind of an autistic individual. But this is something I’d rather keep to a pseudonym still (unless I have a 1-on-1 conversation with someone). There are people who know me and love me that would feel I am being cavalier with this post topic, when I am not. (However, they don’t really know me, or want to know what is going on with me, if they can’t understand this post topic and where I am coming from.)

What’s this topic?

Suicide.

I will be the first person to tell you that I am not suicidal. I am afraid of accidental overdoses. Forget purposeful overdoses. I am afraid to get a knife near myself. I am fearful about a loaded gun pointed anywhere near me. If I ever die, and it’s not a natural death, you can be rest assured it was accidental.

However, the topic has often floated through my head. There was a PoliSci professor at Arizona State that received a late in life diagnosis of Asperger’s. (This was before DSM5 was released.) A blog post he set to publish after his death recounted how he spent life with other people misunderstanding his comments and motivations, always having to explain what he meant by something, and still being misunderstood anyway. In this post, he said he was not suicidal. In fact, he loathed the idea. But he was worn out. He was done. He had reached his limit of being in a place where he didn’t fit in. My partner read this post, and immediately was fearful because they said it sounded like me. It did sound like me. It DOES sound like me. But I would end up going crazy and being involuntarily committed to a mental health ward before I would ever try to kill myself.

It doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it. I have. Different thoughts of how I would do it have gone through my head hundreds of times. Then I get frustrated with myself because I spent so much time thinking about the methods and manners when I would never purposefully try to end myself.

Suicide can be a complicated subject.

So why did I write about this today? See if you can follow me on this one. If suicide is leaving a familiar place that torments you, then why can’t we just leave the familiar place that torments us? I passed by a Mexican food restaurant today that included the greeting “Bienvenidos” on it. The thoughts that went through my head when I saw this sign were comforting. They were of being in a place so different from where I am right now that I am starting over. A fresh start. The thoughts were of being somewhere where I have to re-learn what it takes to live regular life. The thoughts were of being somewhere that I could just re-brand myself as “that eccentric old fool that’s not hurting anyone.”

If it were not for my partner and kid, I would have already booked my ticket and packed my bags for some unfamiliar destination a long time ago. Maybe one of these days, I can talk my partner in to making the move anyway.

I think about starting over. I often think about starting over…

Which one is right? The rights of people as human beings, or the traditions of an old and parochial institution?

The current battle in this stand-off is in the Spanish autonomous region of Catalonia. And we could see the situation blow to bits before the week is over.

Catalonia was its own separate region after being abandoned by the Frankish kingdom. It grew, as any other territory of that time, by conquest and marriage. The dynastic union of Catalonia and Aragon in the 12th century led to a progressive monarchy that lived on a symbiotic relationship between the monarch and the citizens.

When Ferdinand and Isabella married, they brought Aragon and Castile in to another dynastic union. While two separate political territories, they were ruled as one.

Ferdinand hoped to father a separate heir for Aragon after the death of Isabella, because he saw the pitfalls of his son-in-law’s policies while serving as regent of Castile for his daughter, who at the time was thought insane. However, this never happened, and the crowns of Castile and Aragon were officially united as the crown of Spain under Ferdinand’s grandson, Charles, who also served as Holy Roman Emperor.

So, for the last 500 years, Catalonia has been part of greater Spain. But the principles of how Catalans were governed before that were largely abandoned for most of this time, save a few decades.

All the Catalans want is to be governed in a manner they feel is fair for them. That is understandable under any circumstance.

So a Declaration of Independence by Catalonia without a doubt is an expression of human rights. That declaration is considered illegal under Spanish law. The European Union has declared this an internal matter of the Spanish state and will not intervene. Many have surmised because the EU doesn’t want the traditional order of things to be upended. However, Article 1 of the UN Charter (which Spain is a member of) says that all people have the right to self-determination in their method of being governed.

Which one is right?

I was raised in a religious family. So, often, the situations God places us in for our own good, the good of others, or to teach us something was (and is) a subject brought up in conversation.

I had my mother bring this up to me the other day in a conversation I was having with her. My current job is one that I do not have a lot to do, and do not have a lot of freedom to do things on my own. So I mentioned to her that I’m in another lull where I have finished what’s been given to me, and that I was not given anything that day to work on. Not only that, I wasn’t even spoken to by a single person while at work that day. Her response is that maybe “God was giving me an opportunity to learn patience”.

I had to bite my tongue.

Yes, I know my reactions come across as lack of patience to a neurotypical. I wanted to tell her that I already understand and practise patience. I handle myself appropriately and behave well whenever I feel I would have full right to act out. There is nothing wrong with having expectations of someone and/or something that aren’t being met, and it has nothing to do with whether I am being patient or not.

But, no. I exercised patience with my mother and bit my tongue…the same way I have for most of my years being alive.

(Why didn’t I try to explain? My mother reacts to my neurodivergence like I am making excuses, just like most NT’s in my life does. It would have been an exercise in futility to try and explain.)

A Social Experiment:

In the past couple of weeks, I have been wandering around the Twitter-verse looking for potential conversations that could be very interesting. I like to provoke these conversations because often, both myself and at least one person across from me in the conversation learn something from each other. But these conversations in the last couple of weeks have unfortunately not been that way. They have highlighted the dangers of groupthink.

Defining:

Groupthink is an interesting phenomenon to me.

noun

1. the practise of approaching problems or issues as matters that are best dealt with by consensus of a group rather than by individuals acting independently; conformity.

2. the lack of individual creativity, or of a sense of personal responsibility, that is sometimes characteristic of group interaction.

http://www.dictionary.com/browse/groupthink

As you can see by the first definition, groupthink can sometimes be a necessary evil. When you are trying to handle an issue that is for a group of people, and not just an individual, groupthink helps make sure there is a consensus on how to handle things.

Then there is definition number two. This is where I struggle to understand people’s reliance on the group.

A quick sidebar:

I guarantee that some of the people I interacted with on Twitter would probably consider me an Internet troll. At some level, they might be correct. I’m coming in and blowing up their bubble with my view point.

However, I can assure you that my intent in this is never to sow seeds of discord. Rather, my intent is to insert some additional information that gets people thinking. I like to encourage people to think for themselves, because groupthink is at the heart of the divisions in this world. Being accepting of multiple sources of information and actually thinking about them allows you to expand your horizons knowingly, rather than blindly shutting down anyone who doesn’t view the world the way you do.

Back to our story:

My latest engagements have been with people who like to talk politics, religion, and science. These are probably the most divisive subjects on the face of the planet today. Me personally, I’m a moderate in all of these areas. I have these conversations on Twitter to give them a chance to organically grow with additional people.

So when I talk to someone who is left leaning on politics, they accuse me of not supporting the social good, being a racist, and being greedy. When I talk to someone on the right side of the spectrum, I get accused of being a bleeding-heart who doesn’t support our president, does support higher taxes, and doesn’t support states’ rights. With either side, I never changed my position once. I did encounter some people willing to have a discourse, but in the political realm, that is where I found most of the detractors who were suffering from groupthink. They often resorted to name-calling and personal attacks.

Recently, though, I got into a discussion with some people about science, specifically on the theory of evolution. Some were scientists, others were atheists, and others just enjoyed the pursuit of science a lot. I posed two things. One, that the portion of the theory of evolution that is identified as macroevolution is no longer a useful theory. Rather, microevolution was a way you can explain just about every mutation in history. Two, I also posed that I believed religion and science could be and are intertwined. No one bothered to ask me how on that one. I got about two-and-a-half people to actually engage me in some meaningful conversation. However, they still showed elements of groupthink, and I made no ground in getting them to provide the contravening ideas any thought. The ones who wouldn’t engage me… well, let’s just say it’s an interesting experiencing being insulted by a hyperintellectual.

The moral of the story:

It is OK to be the black sheep. Really, it is. Some of the world’s most loved innovators and disruptive individuals have been black sheep. The world wants to know what it takes to be the next Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, etc. My answer is “don’t be like the world”.

So, the hashtag #RIPJournalism has been trending on the interwebs in the past few days. There are two sides to this story.

Side 1:

This hashtag should have been trending years ago before Facebook and Twitter were even a thing. This hashtag should have been trending right about the time I entered the business. I entered the business at one of the first publicly outed duopoly TV stations in the country. The reason I say publicly outed is that corporations were playing shell games years before then to skirt around the FCC rules about monopolies in local media coverage. But this one station (well, two stations) were among the first to start marketing themselves under the same moniker. They made claims to have double everything to give better coverage. However, then you have a look at the business side of things. Those corporations were cutting staff and slashing salaries so that the books showed a profit. Why? Because it is an art to run a local TV station correctly. If you don’t run it correctly, then it is an expensive venture.

To make this simple, they started running their stations like business divisions instead of TV stations.

About the same time, large network news operations really started to ramp up what most Americans believe to be biased coverage. The broadcast networks did not seem to do this much until the advent of cable news networks. However, it often seems like coverage decisions will be made only for ratings. They feed in to the same insatiable “need” to know everything that is going on that has been made stronger by “reality” shows and social media. Now days, in addition to general approaches of ignoring news that would not see the most ratings and the most reaction, now many organizations can be identified as leaning left or leaning right. They aren’t telling it like it is, though. They are just using that as yet another ratings ploy. TV is only about money now, no matter how the content is classified.

To add to this, some of the best journalists out there regularly were newspaper reporters.

Now, we live and die by the breath of anyone who posts something online. They may or may not be a reputable source. But the advent of Web 2.0 made print journalism no longer a viable business to keep a float. Once again, it is about the money. Show me the money!!!

America mourns and laments that true journalism is dead, but yet we are the biggest nation of voyeurs that reward the most scintillating content with yet another ratings point, which means yet another dollar.

I mourn that there is no longer a cause greater than money. If you are a religious person and believe in what is said in the Bible, money is not the problem. The love of money is the root of all evil.

Side 2:

In spite of journalism being more of a business than a cause, there is still a deep desire to have a trusted voice in every community. Adults have their favourite TV anchors to watch for one reason or another. Kids idolize weather forecasters and reporters and want to be just like them. Local news organizations are anchor institutions that live and die by telling the news and telling stories about the communities that they call home. I have known some of the best story tellers in the world. I have known some of the best journalists in the world. Most of them work for a community, a region, a town. They know that journalism was and still can be about telling a story. If there is a side to take, they let those that consume their work take that side. They just tell all sides.

I know some journalists that rode out Hurricane Matthew just recently. They had fun and got a thrill out of being able to bring the coverage of everything that was/is going on. They found it important to let everyone know what was happening, so that the community stayed informed. Yet, they still worried about their homes and their families because they got hit by the storm as well.

Conclusion:

The business of journalism needs to learn many, many lessons from those that practise the art of journalism. Journalism is not dead if you know where to find it.