Showing posts with label Asberger syndrome. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Asberger syndrome. Show all posts

Thursday, July 5, 2012

You Bet Your Asbergers


Having learned that people think I have Asberger syndrome, which seems to mean I show no emotions when I eat burgers even though I do feel sorry for the cows, and the poor wheat plants used in the bread, whether or not I do have this, it lets me better understand how others regard or misregard (which is a regard that is not married) me. Even before people heard of Asbergers, there was some recognition that there were highly functional (or, in my case, moderate to low functioning) people who are “odd”, “misfits”, “politicians”, or “one card short of an elevator reaching the top”.

I have long been aware that people can take one look at me and judge me and reject me. I have known hundreds of women who have dated thousands of men who will not date me. Those who say they will do not appear at the first date. I am familiar with the very excuses of hair needing to be done (what is it about hair that is so traumatic that one cancels an appointment because it has become unsightly?), relative died, relate sick, relative died and then sick which makes me think this could have important religious consequence, and my favorite, someone else asked them out. That last one lacks tact, yet it has been used, which I suspect is useful information that I am even expected to be happy that the woman was able to find an even better prospect for a date than myself. Hurrah.

I used to think it was because I have a larger than normal nose. It did confuse me that larger nosed people are able to gain dates. Maybe my nose was too large yet not large enough. There could be a large nose fetish that does not qualify me while my nose is too large for those without the large nose fetish.

Now I wonder if people can sense Asberger types upon sight and immediately recoil. I do know people immediately recoil. Babies look at me and cry. Grown men look at me and cry. I will state that dogs seem to like me, and I don’t mean “dogs” as in unsociable women, I mean dogs as in the four legged type, and by that, I don’t mean unsociable women who crawl on all fours.  Dogs accept me, people not so much.

A dramatic example of this was when I took attended a screenwriters’ conference with several screenplays under my belt and a few more in my briefcase. A noted screenwriter professor (yes, there are such things, and don’t snicker if you took Basket Weaving in college) requested several ideas for scripts. A room of over one hundred people submitted their ideas. I was enthralled when this noted scholar (again, no snickering, this is actually a difficult type of writing and it is taught in some respectable colleges and in Internet scams) of screenplays put the best ideas on the board. Of the few he picked, the majority were mine. I felt enthralled realizing that someone else believed I had good movie ideas. My confidence was bolstered.

Another speaker taught us to pitch our ideas for movies. I listened intently and mentally prepared how to positively present strong ideas in a manner that would grab a producer’s attention. I prepared for every alternative. If a producer did not like an idea, I’’ll tell of another idea. If a producer seemed to like an idea but questioned aspects, I would attempt to adjust the idea to assure the producer that the idea is still worthwhile. After all, it is the producer’s money and the producer will be paying for the script.
Next, a real producer emerged to listen to our ideas. Each screenwriter was to pitch ideas until the producer said “next”. Once the producer declared “next”, the screenwriter was to walk away without complaint. I was all set. I stood in line and watched as screenwriter after screenwriter pitched ideas until the dreaded “next” was declared. I was confidant, though, knowing I had several of the best ideas there.I would pitch them as best as I could.

When it was my turn, the producer took one look at me and said “next”. Instead of walking away as I was expected to do, I presumed there had to be some mistake. “I haven’t said anything yet”, I stated. The producer looked at me and proclaimed “I can tell by looking at you that you have nothing of interest to say”. The producer then looked back at the line and repeated “next.

This is not the only example. I remember re-meeting a candidate for Governor. I at first was surprised when the candidate remembered me. He replied “of course I remember you. You’re the guy with the looks only a mother could love.” He lost the election. I saw to that, But that’s another story.

The serious problem is I have gone through life having experienced hundreds of job interviews and interviews for job promotions, in a few cases where I knew I was the best candidate in terms of performance, experience, academic background, and abilities, only to be rejected. I have been told on several occasions that I was the best candidate, but they found someone better. Those actual words were used. I never understood what that even meant.

I made the mistake of believing that hard work can make a difference. Sadly, in my personal experiences, I have learned there is no reward for hard work. I worked overtime, took work home, and produced more work than anyone else. I strove to produce quality work. I sought innovative ideas. I learned and improved upon more aspects of my work as possible. I believe I delivered much more than expected.

What I learned is that those with power over me use that power yet seldom wish to share that power. They may take credit for your work and instead of building an alliance with me for my abilities, they have turned against me in fear that I could either expose their false claims or perhaps fear I may rise above them (I can’t speak for the thinkings of others and must only speculate). I observed that their friends usually advance and that social networking is important. Unfortunately, the strange looking person working while others network isn’t permitted to join the network.

I find people see people with oddities and they attach their own interpretations as to how odd that person is. People create their own conclusions as to who I really am and the act to destroy the false person they have constructed. I have often noted the false reality they create of me is a reflection of their own perceived faults. People who created rumors of my sexuality often where themselves of that sexuality.

I am glad that my oddities lead me on the path that has allowed me to become an international superstar. I am able to move on, forget, and forgive the many people who took one look at me and refused to date me, hire me, promote me, or acknowledge my presence. I forgive those who acknowledged my presence and sought to harm it. I could care less if I see any of these people again. Yes, I know some believe believe the expression “I could care less” is incorrect because it literally implies one is able to have less affinity for the stated situation. I indeed mean I have some care for the situation and I could care less. In fact, I should care less. It should no longer bother me. So, to all who hurt me, all is forgiven. Just don’t take that forgiveness as an opening to ask to borrow money, I still don’t care that much.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

I Am Famous For My Charity Giving of Self

I have been active in health care causes. One area of concern has been autism awareness. Yesterday, I was asked if I would speak at an autism conference. At first, I was delighted to be asked. I know being a celebrity, I have a busy schedule, and it is an imposition on my life to care for others. Yet, I perform charity work for the reason all celebrities go out and help others: for the publicity.

My initial delight at this public relations benefit for my career was I was then asked if I could speak on my personal experiences as a person with Asberger Syndrome. There was one slight problem with my agreeing to do this. I don’t have Asberger Syndrome

This request quickly filled me with two panicked thoughts. The first thought was: Is this was people think of me? Have people been telling each other I have Asberger Sydrome, when I don’t? Does this mean people may have actually been treating me more nicely than that ordinarily would have because they think I have Asberger? Is the reason many people avoid me or shy away from me or, let’s be honest, discriminate against me in a variety of ways because they believe I have Asberger Syndrome?

Who started this rumor? How long has it been going around? How widespread is it? Since Asberger Syndrome has only been brought to public attention in recent years through the media, what did people think of me before they thought I had Asberger Syndrome? What do people think of me who don’t think I have Asberger Syndrome, and what did those who think I have Asberger Syndrome think of me before they determined I have Asberger Syndrome? Do people around me think there is something “different” about me?

Then, I had a second frightening thought: Do I have Asberger Syndrome and don’t know it? I looked at the symptoms. People with Asberger Syndrome tend to be unable to empathize. Well, just because, as a celebrity, I don’t care about the people beneath me, I don’t think that doesn’t mean I can’t empathize about them. After all, if they can’t pay for the projects that involve me, that will mean less money for me. So, no, I have the ability to empathize.

Another symptom of Asberger Syndrome is difficult with writing ability. That symptomI have had all my life. You readers will probably note that. This is something I have known my entire life. I will think one word but write another one. That happens frequently. The problem with proofreading is I can look at that wrong word and still see the word I thought I wrote. If that is a symptom, well, maybe I do have something. I used to think it was a form of dyslexia. I have been telling people for years I have dyslexia. I can tell that even from my childhood books where I wrote my name Noel instead of Leon. . Or, maybe I was really into Christmas as a child. Of course, I was really impressed with I wrote Yksvokiahct instead of Tchaikovsky.

Other symptoms of Asberger Syndrome are high sensitivity to light and sound. Not true. I love a Pink Floyd concert as much as the next person. Living in New York City during my Broadway stardom days, the noise never bothered me. Plus, there was the tuba player who lived in my building, and I never once complained about his practicing. For the record, I still have no idea how his mangled tuba wound up in my trash bin.

I am light sensitive, but I was also told that is common for people with blue eyes. Only someone told me my eyes are really gray. Or bloodshot. Is bloodshot a color?

In sum, that is my experience in living with Asberger Syndrome. I didn’t know I have it. I don’t know if I do. I am not yet certain if I should be insulted that people think I have Asberger Syndrome. Yet, being without empathy, I don’t really care what they think, so there.