The Sound and the Worry

I watch Netflix a lot. My sister pays for the account, but I use it more often. But when she does watch, she gives me heck for it.

You see, I watch with closed captioning.

There are a few reasons for this. One of them is the auditory processing trouble when it's a BBC show and you're an American. Even though I can simulate the accent, I can't decipher it.

But with the action shows I like to see, I watch for something strange: the dialogue. After all, I do want to write novels for a living. The speech is what attracts my attention. And I literally have to endure the action.

I know what you're thinking. What in the world is enduring action? To put it simply, it's the exact same feeling as not knowing what is about to happen in life. I know for a fact that I'm not the only one who doesn't like that. This is, after all, a blog about autism. But here's where the experts are wrong: I mute episodes because my empathy is so great. I'm not just watching. I AM IN THE SHOW.

I don't watch action sequences. I memorize them with the show on mute. Even slight suspense means low or missing sound. I have the compulsion to remember every detail. I doubt I'll ever be in a planet-sized library being chased by microscopic flesh eaters, or next to a pool where a child was murdered with my best friend about to explode. But I can't be sure.

So I put the closed captioning on and mute the show. I get just as much out of it. Actually, I might get even more without my emotions interfering.

So go ahead and quiz me.

So go ahead and call me strange.

So go ahead, but I must warn you,

In my mind's an endless range.

Memorization and the BBC

The insanity that is my life of late.

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:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8940145/1/The-Spectrum-Detective

(and the sequel, Adventures of the Spectrum Detective)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7760506/1/Asperger-s

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9716507/1/Of-Palaces-and-Memories

(more about the sensory part of it, but you get the point)

It's Been a While

Finally. I'm back.

Many things have happened since I last posted. The most notable of which will be mentioned in this post.

Firstly, I failed NaNoWriMo. But I'm going to keep writing Negative Infinity. It's just the speed with high school.

Secondly, proof that autistics can be very remarkable. The first part of this is my luck in getting not only a solo for the Christmas concert in church tonight--at midnight mass--but I am also doing a duet at communion. This is an unprecedented thing in my town. The second remarkable thing is that I am directing a tribute episode of Doctor Who over April vacation. I had the determination, and I organized everything.

Third, I have officially added Phantom of the Opera and Doctor Who to my list of obsessions. I have memorized nearly all of Christine Daaè's lines. My voice has finally settled down in a high mezzosoprano range after being alto for years. And Doctor Who is just plain "cool."

Finally comes my IEP. That's right. The school finally recognized my need. It's very simple, just giving me alternative paths to the same result. And that's what I need.

Christmas is tomorrow. I can't believe it. I am happy. I get a break from the trouble of school. Not that I ever thought I'd say that, but still.

I think this verse is a relatable one.

I could do almost anything.

I could know all the world.

I could, but it is painful,

Just to be a normal girl.

PS After a long absence, I'm back on fanfiction.net with a story called A December to Remember. It's in the Doctor Who category.

The Attic: Sherlock Holmes

One of my favorite things in the world is Sherlock Holmes.

By favorite, I mean I write poems based on a line from A Study in Scarlet. Watson was shocked that Holmes was ignorant of the Copernican theory (geo versus heliocentrism) and asked him why he wouldn't want to know that. Holmes, however, lectured him on the matter.

"You see, I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him is crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things, so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend upon it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you forget something thst you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones."
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, A Study in Scarlet.

Watson then goes on to say how he made a list of Holmes's varied abilities, poison, geology, chemistry, anatomy, historical murders, violin, fighting, and law being the better. But chemistry, murder, and violin playing are at the very top.

Science, music, and something which tends to involve guns.

Suspiciously like my own interests at the current time: physics, piano, and James Bond.

But it's not Sherlock I feel a connection with--it's his brother, Mycroft. In the Bruce-Partington Plans, Sherlock describes him as having "the greatest capacity for storing facts of any man living." That sounds suspiciously like me, even moreso than Sherlock himself. I also think that Mycroft is the one exception to the rules Sherlock lays down earlier on. In modern terms, I'm one of the few exceptions out of billions. I must admit, though, I think it's Sherlock that shows the slight autism sometimes.

Don't get me going with fanfiction, though. I hate a lot of it. Luckily, there are a couple of decent stories on the Sherlock BBC section of fanfiction.net, and the authors have at least made it clear to the readers that they need autistic viewpoints. They read books written by autistics to learn just what to write like. I thank them.

In celebration of my birthday today, along with my revealing my passion for Sherlock Holmes, I present you with a special verse of The Attic. This one is part of Watson's list, where he describes Sherlock's knowledge of anatomy as "accurate, but unsystematic." An extra syllable was needed for The Attic.

My thoughts may go extremely fast.

My thoughts may not be dull.

My thoughts are very special but

Unsystematical.