Asperger's Syndrome/Autism Blog? :)

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I already have a blog. The link to it is in my profile. It's not a bad idea, if you want to use anything from my blog you have permission to do that.

My story begins a long time ago back in the dark age known as 1999, in a forest out in the smoky Manitoban plains. Two bushes stood out prominently in these plains. One had the most beautiful yellow flowers you had ever seen. They were like the bright, shining sun. Its leaves were round and the purest, most luscious green you had ever seen. The one beside it however, had vomit-yellow flowers, like the vomit you'd find in the back of a shady, old bar in the downtown metropolitan area of Winnipeg. This bush's leaves were jagged and sickly. It looked like the thing had come from some mutant, radiation ridden dump.

These two bushes grew together, competing with one another for beauty. The ugly bush never won, of course. He was always laughed at by all the trees and the bushes and the ferns that grew around it. The pretty bush mocked it and mocked it, almost driving the ugly bush to suicide once or twice. The overall morale of the ugly bush was very low because it simply could not change how it looked.

One day, out of the blue, some men came along on a quiet day where the wind was barely blowing and uprooted the pretty bush. The pretty bush was hauled off to be dissected and experimented on, while the ugly bush was happily rooted in the ground. No one would take it away it realized. No one would come to tear it apart in a lab. And why? Because it was just who it was. It persevered and conquered the travails of life.

In the dark and dank year of 2002, a ten-year-old boy was exploring the local plains. He found this plant and thought the flowers looked tasty. And he was right too. He ate and he ate until the plant was nothing but a dead stem. So ended the ugly bush's life. But the ugly bush was happy to go this way because he made the boy a very happy child.

The very next day, the boy was diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome and he led a very strange yet happy life.

The End.

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Alright, so I revised a few parts. Sue me. That's my story. All the way through.

Even as a young child, I wasn't anything like a normal person. Perhaps my first memory of this was when I was about 3 years old. I was at some unfamiliar place, there were lots of people, including children my age (at the time), and it was loud. It was probably some sort of party. I remember walking across the room with the adults talking, and some guy and asked me "how do you feel?" I stopped and looked at him, not knowing what to say. He then asked me "do you feel sad?" I realized it was a dumb question because, first of all, he doesn't need to know, and he shouldn't care, and secondly, I knew that I didn't want to talk about it. I turned away and proceeded to walk out of the room. What happened after that is a blurry memory, but I know for a fact that my mom saw what happened and needless to say, she was very upset. If I'm not mistaken, I was forced to apologize, and then I ran off and cried.

But my weirdness is a double edged sword. While I was crippled in terms of social interactions, when I started school, I excelled at everything I did. Learning basic arithmetic and reading skills came natural to me. In kindergarten, I was going to be put in a gifted program, but my teacher thought I wouldn't maintain my intellectual advantage. My first grade teacher was clueless. It took only a few weeks before my second grade teacher realized my potential and put me in the gifted program. I remember being told thousands of times just how smart I was. It almost seemed as if I was some sort of prophet or something.

Then, because my dad is in the military, we moved to Arizona. I started going to a new school, and I hated it. The rest of that year, the second grade, was hell for me. My parents insisted that I should have been put in a gifted program, but because I didn't pass the test (by one question), I was locked out. Most students passed it at earlier grade levels, when it was easier. For the most part, I was stuck learning stuff I already knew, and it was really boring.

Also, that same year was when I remembered talking to my dad about friends. He was disappointed in me for not making any. To me, making friends wasn't on my mind. I never once complained about being lonely. I don't remember what exactly he said, but when the conversation was over, I decided that I did want friends, and that I would have to work for it. That's what I did, and I guess it payed off alright.

For the years after I was somewhat like any ordinary kid. I had made a few friends, and I continued to do well in school. Still, my weirdness made itself visible in other ways. I became obsessed with NASCAR racing. Unlike normal kids, I never really played with my toys. My idea of playing was building exact replicas of NASCAR courses in my bedroom floor out of whatever materials that I could find. When I had friends over to "play," all I did was bore them, and I didn't care.

In the fifth grade, I was forced to move back across the country once again, to Florida. I was quickly befriended by a nice boy, and he helped me to get back on my feet. By the sixth grade, I was still in elementary school; I became comfortable with my new surroundings, and up until recently, I referred back to this year as the best one I've had. In this time of my life, I could almost convince myself that I was normal.

Then it was off to junior high, and the fecal matter hit the fan. My relationships with my friends thinned out. I saw people being made fun of for being different, and it took me only a few hours before I realized that I needed to keep my mouth shut. So that's what I did, and it backfired. I became known as "that kid who never talks." Deep down inside, I started to develop a narcissistic hatred for society. I began to think that I had majorly screwed up somewhere. I knew my parent's wouldn't want me to tell them how I was really doing, so I made up friends just to make them happy. Not only that, but I became aware of my awkwardly flat facial expressions, and I started to develop an aversion to eye contact, only to add fuel to the fire.

But, in reality, I was happy. I had discovered the awesomeness of the internet. While people had no respect for me in real life, I could go online and I was usually met with friendly and helpful people. The whole saying that people are always meaner on the internet is a complete lie. Nobody I met playing games online knew who I was, besides a skilled and experienced player, which I earned respect for. It was because of the internet that I managed to maintain my sanity.

Then high school happened. I continued to follow the same path, talking to very few people and making friends through the computer. But, after moving to California, and spending freshman year at what I call a pre-ivy-league school, I fell flat on my face. I was not ready for the increase in responsibility and expectations. This brought about huge amounts of stress, and consequentially, depression. Once again, I felt as if I had failed somewhere. Not only was I a social failure, but I became an academic failure as well. I realized I was going to have to work harder, and I eventually started pulling myself back together.

A few weeks into my sophomore year it was time to move, yet again, but this time, we'd be staying for a while. To make a long story short, I once again regained my status as an excellent student, but I failed to make any friends. I remember thinking at the end of that year that something just wasn't right. I overheard something about "finding ones-self" during adolescence. I then thought about it. I had so little of an idea who I was or what I was doing on Earth that it about made me brown my pants.

Ironically, just a few months later, I found what I was looking for. I was accepted into the engineering academy at my school, and I started taking math and science intensive classes my junior year. On the first day I listened to the engineering teacher talk about how important social skills are for us, and how a lot of us engineers don't have them. I soon realized I was in the right place. It didn't take long before I found one of my classmates drawing a complex electrical circuit on his laptop computer. He was a total genius, but he lacked the basic social skills that my teacher was talking about. After a few weeks, I started to see him as a reflection of myself, with the only exception being that I'm much more shy than he was.

Then one Friday afternoon I came home from school, and my mom was telling me about this strange mental disorder that she thinks I have. I shrugged it off and continued on with my life, for a few hours. Then, I decided that maybe she is right. I mean, after all, it wouldn't hurt to look into it. I went to Google, and I tried to type in what I could remember from the word she used.

I started reading about it. I thought, "no way, this is insane, there's no way I have a mental disorder related to autism. That's for ret*d people." I was disgusted. But at the same time, I was also interested. I kept researching. Over the course of a few weeks, I began to assemble the bits and pieces of my life that I previously did not understand. It's like I had been walking around in a dark room all my life, and suddenly a light was turned on, and I could then see what it was that I tripped over.

I began to develop a sense of community for the first time. I started to call myself an aspie. To think that there actually was somewhere that I belong was euphoric. Not only did I begin to understand myself, but I also began to accept it. I discovered who and what I am, and that there's other people like me. Despite my initial feelings about it, the idea seemed to be rather comforting, in a way that's really difficult to describe.

But then theres the thought that I just want to feel special. Maybe I just want to have somewhere I belong. Maybe I'm just making this up. After all, I don't have an official diagnosis. But after several months, I just can't consider myself to be a neurotypical. There is so much evidence suggesting that I'm an aspie it's almost ridiculous. It just kinda sucks that not everyone on the internet knows this. When I tell people that I don't have an official diagnosis, it makes me some sort of wannabe, like I'm not really part of the club. Luckily, not everyone is a jerk like that.

As I posted in the other thread.

/Attention whore

So it's kind of like an Aspergers/Autism Wiki?

Alright, here's my story.

Hmmm...I've been wondering about this for a while but I'm not sure if anybody will want to do this...is anybody interested in being a part of an asperger's/autism blog on blogger? We could create a blog and all be authors of it. It could be a personal blog for us all to post whatever we wanted as well as anything interesting to do with asperger's/autism...it would work and I'd love to do this

If you'd like to do this all you have to do is create a blogger account and I'll create the blog and add you as an author. It's pretty simple

I'm a fourteen year old girl diagnosed with Asperger's and for some reason this idea just came into my head. If you'd like to join in post here and I'll PM you

Does anybody have any ideas for what the blog could be called?

*sits here and really, really hopes that she won't be ignored and somebody will like the idea*

I like the idea! Your blog is really cool and it was interesting to read some of the personal stories posted there. I'm following your blog now, I'm looking forward to reading future posts.

If you're still looking for people to contribute to your blog, I would like to. I'm 18, and I haven't been officially diagnosed, but I do have a story to share, just like everyone else here. Let me know please.

Hey, and thank you I took a look at your blog too and it looks pretty interesting. I'm following it now and will definitely be reading more of it

Feel free to share your story if you like! You can post it here or PM me, but only if you want