So I'm in the pointless running in circles point of school. They changed my schedule at work so I'll miss too much of class for a Pell Grant. So I have an email in to my instructor to get more details (ie: can I pass with only half the class taken, and can she count me as there even if I leave halfway through?) and, if all goes well, I'll use the Pell Grant next term (in ten weeks). In the meantime, I'm still fighting with work about my schedule.
So it'll be... interesting.
I really really wanna learn how to sew well. I want to be able to make Vickie fashions and cosplay. Is that so much to ask?? At the moment, that DOES give me this term to finish the niece's winter skirts, my winter skirts, and more jammie pants for work as I outgrew all the ones I had.
I'm also trying to figure out a more or less polite way to back off certain relatives without alienating the couple I can stand. My auntie gave me the best method so going to work on that. I'm very proud. I was pretty sure that gushing over something you previously hated probably meant you were lying about no longer hating it and I was indeed correct. I'm getting pretty good at this social shit! *beams proudly* Lookie me with Social Skillz. Not mad social skillz... but like... one. >.>
I also went to this site for scholarships and while it states they have scholarships for trade schools, it doesn't list any or link to any. So while it's very nice to know they exist, I'm not closer to getting applications out. I need someone to stop by and hold my hand and make it work because financial aid is financial aid. They don't actually want to help you in any way. I suppose it's rather comforting because I do so hate change!!!
On another note: I didn't get any bug bites sleeping on my mat on the other side of the room, reinforcing my idea that these are newly hatched baby wolf spiders and I was in the hunting zone between the cat food and the cat litter. So I think I'll set my newly washing sleeping mat across the room and stay out of there way. I loves my little wolf spiders. Other than gnawing on me, they also keep all the other bugs cleaned up. Nom, little spiders. Nom nom nom. ^_^
I now work an extra 90 minutes per shift. (Hence the eating into school time...) So no more having to scrounge for enough overtime to hit forty hours. Yes, it took 90 minutes per shift for me to hit 40. Life will be MUCH easier with these hours if I can just get school to work around it for me...
I'll come up with something much "deeper" and more significant later. At the moment I just realized I hadn't blogged in a while. Of course, when I opened this I realized it hadn't been that long but I hadn't remembered writing it but it did sound awful familiar when I read it so good on my crazy brain and all the people in it working together to write a blog! Go team awesome.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Schrödinger's Nutshell
It's sometimes quite a funny thing to be able to hold every single memory as equally true and untrue. Logic might dictate one more probable, but there is no proof to swing things one way or another. It all exists equally because nothing can be certain.
Perhaps the more amusing thing is that this gives me stability. I'm more stable saying "this is me in a nutshell, and the nutshell is Schrödinger's", than I ever have been before. So much stress removed, not having to fit thoughts into one reality or another. It's quite liberating.
Science is not about proving or disproving. It is about gathering evidence. It is about finding facts. It is about truth. You can jump off the roof 100 times wearing a superman cape and hit the ground each time. This makes it very unlikely that next time you'll fly, but it doesn't prove you cannot fly.
When you recognize that no one actually knows more about their past than I do but that, for their sanity, they simply accept that certain things must be real, you can see how flimsy reality therefore must be. No one cares whether or not things are, one is simply relieved to have something certain in which to believe. This is neither good nor bad, it simply is, and I think far more people would suicide or refuse to go on if they didn't have a past upon which to cling. I can see why this is so since I give up all the time and wish to not have to exist and I can see that this might perhaps be less so if I had something solid upon which to stand. But since that isn't so and here I am, I find it quite difficult to actually quit, despite how thoroughly I've given up.
I appear to have a rather well developed sense of survival.
This all comes up because it turns out my father hadn't actually meant that he wouldn't pay for school when I was 19. As he didn't bring up the damning conversation, I suppose he didn't remember it. He was simply surprised to learn that I hadn't quit school because I'd given up on school, but had quit school because I couldn't figure out how to pay for it. He was probably just annoyed at me and said something that I, being me, took utterly seriously. And I, being me, simply accepted it as fact and carried on, realized I had no way to gather funds, and figured I'd wait til I was old enough to qualify for more grants. He, meanwhile, assumed I'd given up on school because I'd always hated school.
This is, perhaps, why I've had to learn to not make assumptions: none of our realities are the same reality. They merely overlap from time to time when our perceptions line up just right.
I still do, however, simply accept what one says as what is. Knowing and understanding aren't always the same thing. I know that people lie and I know that people just talk out their asses. But I still don't understand that people do not say what is.
While I was at work today, I lost all sense of mouth noise being words. So I typed the random syllables the mouths spouted. Then I read what I wrote to see if I could spot words. Luckily, I more or less could, and so I carried on. It occured to me much later that perhaps this was a good tip for autistics: don't worry about making sense of words. If you can hear syllables, just type them out as the person talks because reading phonetically is far easier than turning mouth noise into comprehendable words.
It's funny, some days I can type out all the words as proper words, but I cannot make sense of the meaning of those words until I read what I typed.
It's a VERY good thing I type as fast as I do. I really ought to practice moving much faster so that I can fully keep up with conversations. It would be rather amusing to spend a day typing everything I hear so that people can read it back and see the nonsense I come up with.
Not only do I say "cow" instead of "milk"... I'm just as likely to hear "cow" instead of "milk". But since I didn't have the right word in my head and just said it wrong (although often I hear my own word that is wrong and it starts its own domino effect of associations), I hear it wrong and then cannot get caught back up to the conversation again. So long as I am not being timed (as on calls at work), this is often amusing and I have an entirely other conversation than anyone else with whom I converse.
I think I shall go pass out now. Pre-seizure week is always odd.
Perhaps the more amusing thing is that this gives me stability. I'm more stable saying "this is me in a nutshell, and the nutshell is Schrödinger's", than I ever have been before. So much stress removed, not having to fit thoughts into one reality or another. It's quite liberating.
Science is not about proving or disproving. It is about gathering evidence. It is about finding facts. It is about truth. You can jump off the roof 100 times wearing a superman cape and hit the ground each time. This makes it very unlikely that next time you'll fly, but it doesn't prove you cannot fly.
When you recognize that no one actually knows more about their past than I do but that, for their sanity, they simply accept that certain things must be real, you can see how flimsy reality therefore must be. No one cares whether or not things are, one is simply relieved to have something certain in which to believe. This is neither good nor bad, it simply is, and I think far more people would suicide or refuse to go on if they didn't have a past upon which to cling. I can see why this is so since I give up all the time and wish to not have to exist and I can see that this might perhaps be less so if I had something solid upon which to stand. But since that isn't so and here I am, I find it quite difficult to actually quit, despite how thoroughly I've given up.
I appear to have a rather well developed sense of survival.
This all comes up because it turns out my father hadn't actually meant that he wouldn't pay for school when I was 19. As he didn't bring up the damning conversation, I suppose he didn't remember it. He was simply surprised to learn that I hadn't quit school because I'd given up on school, but had quit school because I couldn't figure out how to pay for it. He was probably just annoyed at me and said something that I, being me, took utterly seriously. And I, being me, simply accepted it as fact and carried on, realized I had no way to gather funds, and figured I'd wait til I was old enough to qualify for more grants. He, meanwhile, assumed I'd given up on school because I'd always hated school.
This is, perhaps, why I've had to learn to not make assumptions: none of our realities are the same reality. They merely overlap from time to time when our perceptions line up just right.
I still do, however, simply accept what one says as what is. Knowing and understanding aren't always the same thing. I know that people lie and I know that people just talk out their asses. But I still don't understand that people do not say what is.
While I was at work today, I lost all sense of mouth noise being words. So I typed the random syllables the mouths spouted. Then I read what I wrote to see if I could spot words. Luckily, I more or less could, and so I carried on. It occured to me much later that perhaps this was a good tip for autistics: don't worry about making sense of words. If you can hear syllables, just type them out as the person talks because reading phonetically is far easier than turning mouth noise into comprehendable words.
It's funny, some days I can type out all the words as proper words, but I cannot make sense of the meaning of those words until I read what I typed.
It's a VERY good thing I type as fast as I do. I really ought to practice moving much faster so that I can fully keep up with conversations. It would be rather amusing to spend a day typing everything I hear so that people can read it back and see the nonsense I come up with.
Not only do I say "cow" instead of "milk"... I'm just as likely to hear "cow" instead of "milk". But since I didn't have the right word in my head and just said it wrong (although often I hear my own word that is wrong and it starts its own domino effect of associations), I hear it wrong and then cannot get caught back up to the conversation again. So long as I am not being timed (as on calls at work), this is often amusing and I have an entirely other conversation than anyone else with whom I converse.
I think I shall go pass out now. Pre-seizure week is always odd.
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