I have not had any peace for weeks, it feels like. Now, on a day off, I have scripts running through my head constantly. And not normal, two-sentence scripts, either: the complete script to Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera. Music and all.
Now, this is nothing new. I have scenes of Shakespeare and tales of Edgar Allen Poe ready to spurt at a moment's notice. But there's something about the rhythm in Phantom, something that captivates me like nothing else except Jabberwocky. And that's two minutes long, shorter if the Third Doctor is singing the first verse while working on Bessie in the classic Doctor Who serial The Silurians.
As you can tell, I've become a bit of a rambler.
That's not by choice, though. Oh, no. If I had my way, I would seem perfectly like everyone else. It takes so much energy to deal with everyday life if I ramble. But rambling takes less energy than taking turns. And taking turns takes less energy than watching the teacher with my chin in my hand like the rest of the freshman class does (dear God, what is it like in their funny little brains?).
The best thing to do? Ignore the teacher. I mean, I was bored last month. I watched Crash Course with Hank Green. I did research on my own years ago. I can draw a double helix without thinking twice. I know enough about DNA to ace the test in Biology. Besides, the teacher couldn't care less from what I can tell.
But anyway, it is now Sherlock canon: Mycroft is, indeed, the one with the eidetic memory. Sherlock thought himself dumb until he went to school. Mycroft is said to work for multiple countries' governments and secret services. He is also the one who struggled for years with people.
Thank you very much, BBC. You have put in two un-stated but very clearly autistic brothers, one a definite savant and the other managing pretty well in life when not dealing with flash photography. You have let the world realize how well autistics can do if given the chance. Next goal: represent those of us with even greater challenges. The ones like Mycroft as a child. Give us the story of Mycroft. I know of plenty of writers up to the challenge.
Now, as for memorization. Too easy, as simple as that. I never want to do anything else...besides dog training. My cousin is giving me twenty dollars a week for playing with her beagle puppy. It took me an hour to teach him to sit and not to jump. If only Tessie would learn not to jump.
My attic is not perfect.
My attic is not best.
My attic must be taught to know
What's bullying or jest.
P.S. For some decent Sherlock fanfictions about he and/or Mycroft being autistic, these are my favorites:
(and the sequel, Adventures of the Spectrum Detective)
(more about the sensory part of it, but you get the point)
