(no subject)

Well, that was an interesting morning.

I was glad in a way to be in early to work today because I had to take my AD aside and let him know that I was probably going to be giving my two weeks soon. On the way in to work, I hit a patch of uneven pavement and, as I am wont to do, fell on my face. Actually I fell on my left hand, which is currently braced with an ace elastic bandage after spending most of the morning on ice. It hurts like fuck, but I have vicodin, so what the hell. It's strained or sprained or something.

Anyway, I fell on my left wrist and twisted around to protect not only the iPhone in my coat breast pocket but the laptop and camera in my bag, so well done me. People heal, electronics don't.

I limped the two blocks to the theatre, got some ice, and showed off the TREMENDOUS purple bruise on my knee. I told my AD about possibly leaving and we had our Interns Meeting and then I fucked off home, stopping at Byron's on the way to get myself a hamburger. Now I'm at the kitchen counter but soon to be on the sofa with my ankle up, watching horrific daytime television (ooh...Cheaters might be on!).

I have to go back for another meeting this afternoon, but I plan to sleep a whole bunch until then. Which is what I wanted to be doing anyway today, so who knows? PERHAPS IT WAS A FREUDIAN SLIP AND FALL. :D

(no subject)

And then we discovered SSI World.

This is a terrible wasteful thing, running stuff through a shredder that could have been recycled and reused, but I'm sorry...it feels so good.

Jump to about a minute in to see the carnage begin.

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(no subject)

Ow ow owfuck ow.

I've had my hand wrapped all day which may be why it hurts so much, because the ice helps. I can't type at all with my left hand, though I have a full range of movement; there's just too much pain when I move my thumb, and like a dumbass I trained myself when typing to use my left thumb for the spacebar.

I'm glad I chopped up all the stuff for gumbo earlier today because I would have utterly butchered it if I waited until tomorrow. R offered a week ago to pay for the ingredients if I'd make him a walloping pot of gumbo for some guests he's having over tomorrow evening, and as I'd never tried making gumbo (it's not really my thing) it seemed like a good deal.

I was going to write a review of "Solutions for Adults With Asperger's Syndrome" by Juanita Lovett but I haven't got the energy, so I'll just recommend it as an interesting book with an unfortunate but only mild bias towards the idea that Neurotypicals should accomodate themselves to Aspies rather than a mutual combined effort. It's still a good book. And if you're interested in AS, keep an eye out for an episode of Independent Lens on PBS entitled "Today's Man", which explores the life of a young twentysomething with AS. Here in Chicago it's airing again next Monday night.

The man in the documentary could be Bernard, especially in the scene where he meets with the HR director about reading other peoples' mail. It's like watching my life with my brother unfold, down to the early diagnosis of neurological dysfunction and the late diagnosis of AS. You can view a clip here, which includes the most heartbreaking scene for me -- the story of telling his older sibling about it and the father saying to her, "That's when I decided you were a good person and I didn't have to worry about you."

Now, my parents both biological and spiritual have made sure I never was cold or hungry or homeless, and I am grateful to them every day for the things they do for me, which are legion. Even so, I could write a novel, and might someday, about the pain of knowing that you are the child your parents have absolved themselves of worrying about because this other child legitimately needs their energy so much more than you do.

But my wrist hurts and this has taken half an hour to type as it is, so that'll have to be a talk for another time.

I'm actually okay tonight; the chance-found documentary rocked me on my heels a little, but I have a job waiting for me and the respect of my colleagues at the theatre and the depression is fading, so I'm not miserable by any stretch. It's a good night to be Sam, really.