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Why Scary Movies Were Banned in My House

I knew I was different when I was a child. That sounds narcissistic as fuck, but it’s true.

Some years ago (when me and my mother were on speaking terms) I remember describing to her in perfect detail what my baby room looked like. Lot’s of violet and stuffed animals with gauze-y white curtains and white furniture. I remember my favorite stuffed animal was a white seal that I liked to bite on the nose. (It felt good on my gums. :3)

My mother blinked a few times and then, being the religious/superstitious woman she was, suggested that angels must have guided me out of my tiny human body into the spiritual realm, throwing me into an out-of-body experience.

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Whoa. Intense.

But, sadly─ my mom was wrong. Because unlike typical accounts of ‘out-of-body’, I didn’t see myself, or outside of my field of vision from the crib. (not to mention, I think it’s all a bunch of horse dung.)

To my mother’s credit, there is something unnerving about a child that not only corrects everything you say, but also tends to be extremely blunt and appears to lack feelings. This was the 90’s folks, and there was nothing more than just talks about ADD. (attention deficit disorder, now more commonly referred to as ADHD) But, alas, her daughter couldn’t have that, because mostly males were diagnosed with it at the time─ let alone any other possible issues.

And so, I was branded─ the Demon Child.

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Not because I was the spawn of satan, or some- such nonsense, but because I was that man’s daughter.

As you may have guessed, my parents split. Just after I was born, in fact. My mom’s thoughts?

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e.g.: me.

I was tirelessly and incessantly curious about everything─ especially death. When someone explained something to me, the first phrase that inevitably came out was ‘but why do we do it this way?’

I loved watching scary movies, so much that I would sneak out into the living room like a ninja behind our couch to watch ‘adults only’ films.

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Eventually, my mom and step-dad caught on and gave in. And so the three of us (my brother was very young then and slept in a crib) would sit on Friday nights and watch films. I’m sure my parents wanted to watch it in peace─

but I had questions.

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For the longest time, I would ask my parents obsessively about god, heaven, and bad guys. I would listen to the stories in church, but watch movies about the most horrible sides of humanity. My mom displayed both sides equally. So I would get a constant flood of conflicting evidence on human behavior.

And inconclusive data made me upset. Really upset. I liked control and understanding everything.

And so, my tiny villainous brain devised a scheme. Remove the control, and we have a predictable outcome where all other outcomes would cease to screw up my tireless conflicting world views.

Do any of you remember these?

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They were little 2×3 space heaters. Now hilariously illegal.

What happened to cross my mind at the moment, or what force compelled it, I’ll never know. I simply remember at the time, logic dictated that I do it.

And so, I stared at the wall heater. And it at me.

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I wasn’t allowed to touch the heater again.

And my scary movie days? Had to return back to me becoming one with the dark ninja force. At least, until after the coast had cleared.

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Quick update – Today’s Comic Release

Hey guys! This is just a brief update on yesterday and today. Normally, I release a comic every Tuesday. As most of you know, I have a day job like everyone else.

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Which means my days can go from busy to:

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When you run a company, and work a day job (plus adding a kiddo to the mix 2-4 days a week) let’s just say my life is not lacking excitement.

Yesterday was a day of nightmares.

Finally, after trudging home at 10 p.m. (having worked at my job which currently has me as Marketing Director/CSR/Web Designer) I finally was able to try and finish my comic. Then, the realization hit me. I’d left my file at work and forgot to save it on G-Drive.

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Needless to say, (tl;dr) I’ll have it up today.

Check out my poll on twitter today @chrystal_Annecd at noon─

You all get to vote what my next Urban Legend podcast will be over. :3

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Happy thoughts, children. ❤

─ C.A.

2016, I dub thee The Year of The Turd Part 2

OK, I tell myself. Things haven’t gone well this year. I have a roof over my head, let’s switch gears.

My Brain: Remember that career you always wanted as a police officer? Yes? Yes! Let’s do that.

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OPTIMISM!!

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So I worked hard. Harder than anything that I have ever worked at in my entire life. For a solid 8 weeks, I worked out 5 to 6 days a week, ate right, and lifted weights. I studied an hour a day every day.

Test day arrived. I was happier than a dog rolling in cow caca. I couldn’t believe it. After a solid year of failure, trying to get into other police departments, I finally made it past. I scored a 98/100, passed my PT with flying colors, and got all of my long and grueling paperwork completed. For the first time,  I was seeing the stars align.

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I envisioned my future, the difference I could make. The change that I could do in my city and helping others. The pride I would take in getting there and the joy in being a part of the community.

…yeah. What a load of─

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Remember how much I like the honesty train? Yeah. Well, ladies and gents, that was my one-way pass to them showing me the door.

They use something called a polygraph test. (pronounced /dʌm/) Well, folks, I’m not good at lying. And I didn’t want to. Remember that lovely ex? The one I told you about? Well, this girl decided last year to try a certain grown plant for the first time in her life, once. That was it!

That was enough.

It disqualified me for an entire year. Smoking the green, once in my whole life, cost me 2 years of disqualification from the time I smoked it last November 2015, until December 2017. As I find this out, my test score gets sent to me via email. I open it, stare at the nearly perfect score and look blankly at this man that just crushed my dreams. I worked for two months, been trying for over a year, and gave up job searching for a while, riding on the tide of hope that by being honest, it would be the best way.

And so, I thanked him─My entire body shaking, tears threatening to spill and smile as I walk woodenly  from the door.

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Everything deflated and I came home and sat. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe what I had caused. I.could.not.believe. that of all things, I decided to do this on my own, effectively ruining my childhood dream in a few puffs of smoke.

I was lost. More than I ever had been in quite some time. For once, I felt I had found my place in the universe. That everything, all that heartache up until that moment, had been worth the pain. And that’s the thing about Asperger. You can’t process anything emotionally. Why you are crying, why you’re upset, how you are feeling about something─ it’s all just a murky mess. And so, I didn’t show an ounce of my feelings to anyone.

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Often, when a crises occurs, I am the first to jump in and do it. I can remember everything and the smallest details, so I do well at work because I can remember what others have to work hard to. Think of it like a photographic memory, but less like Sherlock Holmes. You can visualize the area, the time, the license plates and everything that you did that day.

One of my weirdest and most favorite past times is memorizing license plates, or reflecting on every detail of an area I’ve been.

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People often mistake us for emotional robots. This is very wrong. It’s not that we are emotionless, but rather, we process more inwardly. We struggle hard with actually putting to words how we feel about a certain situation. If someone were to ask me, ‘how are you feeling about scenario a, b, c’ I would fidget, flush a deep red, and stutter. It takes hours of time to myself to just understand and pick apart what it is my emotions actually are.

And as such, you could imagine what it is like in a household of two people that have autism.

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Enter my life.

My boyfriend has a more severe version of what I do. I can hit a point (usually a few hours later) where I can talk about it and open up. Sometimes, this can take several days. He can’t talk about it at all. Now try to imagine that you have all of these feelings and emotions but feel trapped, constantly disoriented, are a shut-in, and severely depressed. Oh, and did I mention that he’s a Nihilist? He thinks everything and anything is absolutely pointless. Yet, each and every time we talk, I see a small sparkle of hope in him that he still believes there may be some order to the universe.

I’m more agnostic. I see things for what they are, and that things are all coincidental. I’m a huge skeptic, but optimistic in general. I tend to be that annoying co-worker that is giddy and gets excited over dumb things. I’ve had people question me as a genuine person because of how often many things don’t seem to bother me. Yeah, thanks guys. Because I’m not bitching about everything under the sun and generally happy, something is just wrong with me. Well, poop on you too buddy.

What does this have to do with my productivity lately? Um. Everything. Did you read the past two giant paragraphs on my life this year? Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that I still didn’t have a job up until a week ago.

So. Bf doesn’t believe in anything─ check. Freaks out in large crowds─ check. Can’t function at work─check. Believes that he is a burden and mooch─check.

Because I want to respect his family and his privacy, I will not post his name. This next part, took me 72 hours of courage to write. Why? Because it was the lowest point, aside from my childhood (which I’ll get to in a later trauma series), in my life that I have ever experienced.

The love of my life tried to take his own life.

This would have been the second time in my existence I lost someone that meant this much to me by a self-inflicted wound.

At this point, I was working two jobs: One with Uber and one with Amazonflex. Neither of which offers enough money, or time available to take care of two human beings. I was applying to over twenty places a day, trying to find something that would support the two of us so that we could get him and myself on insurance and begin more treatments. But, life had other plans.

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I have finally managed to find work. It pays crap, I do marketing for basically free, and will still have to find a way to freelance and make money─ BUT I have a job. I am able to pay bills, and though we don’t always see eye-to-eye, a boyfriend that cares. We just got two little ratses :3 Alby and Nova. Animals are easier for us to attach to. And so, we fawn over our furry babies, and seek the treatment that we both know he needs. Hurray neurotransmitters! Hurry dopamine and serotonin! Hurray brain thingies! but mostly, hurray rats.

I am convinced at this point that somehow, someway, a past ancestor or my own past life (if such a thing does exist) has fucked up my karma so bad that I am paying for all of their evil deeds combined. Don’t even get me started on my holiday experiences.

xoxo

─ C

Next Podcast and Blog – Japanese vs. Western Mythology and the story of Yuki Onna (the Snow Spirit) and The Snow Queen.

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2016, I dub thee The Year of the Turd Part 1

I’m not sure what wayward deity, or all of the Fates I managed to piss off, but I know one thing for sure. This has been a poop year. Not a mildly frustrating, not bad, but damn dude you flipping pissed off every god in existence and they’re coming for blood.

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Picture this: You see that puppy? Bobo? We’ll call him Bobo. Why? Because I’m too lazy to actually look up every image I find online. Imagine little Bobes here─ cute, free, and happy frolicking in blissful ignorance at all the cute things that seem to bring him joy and happiness.

He doesn’t need much, just a ‘good boy’ every now and then, some food and water, and to feel safe.

Well, folks, I’m Bobo. I don’t need much, I don’t like overly complex situations and especially where my love life is concerned. I like it simple and things to be happy.

 

Every now and then I bark, I may even bite, but I get over it quickly. Well, last year was a shit-storm of my own doing. I managed to stay involved with someone that was very bad for me. Cue the sob story and tiny violin, and many craptastic months later, we are no longer engaged.

Oh! But my kind heart, it knows no bounds. It’s masochistic tendencies can put some monks across the world to shame. I called him once a week, even after I was moved out. He’d always answer with the same response, ‘I just don’t know how I feel and that I might never get those feelings back.’ The whole time seeing me and someone else. Later that week, I found out what I suspected. It had been more like the last 4 months of us engaged.

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1 month later, I existed. Minus a fiance, a car, and barely a place to stay─ along with what I was sure were very confused neighbors as I practiced Krav at all hours of the night─ I knew money would be tight, but I convinced myself that all would be ok.

Optimisim!

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Like all things after 4 months went by, I finally was able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I was doing great at my new job, got promoted to a lead position and was doing training presentations every week. I found great joy and took pride in teaching others.

And then, it happened.

We all get called into the office in May. Our entire department (at giant tech company with four main colors in their logo that’s square shaped – a wink, wink) decided to end our contract and make it impossible to switch to another department due to our ‘skillset’ and changing rules about tech support not getting to switch over as fast track engineers.

We had a choice, move to Manila in the Philippines, or lose our job.

I have a daughter. This was not an option.

So, I lucked out given that our team was allowed 6 weeks to find new work. Oh and bright eyed and bushy tailed, I started. Over one hundred applications a week, calling, re-calling, sending follow-up emails, asking why I was not chosen for candidacy, phone interview after phone interview, and hiring someone to fix my resume to make it look more appealing.

Finally, two months later, (and probably some very frustrated HR staff) I land a job through a staffing agency.It’s amazing! I’m excited. I was making more, getting to be in a Junior Marketing position, and great benefits. I was warned that it was just a trial period, but I poured my heart into that job. I’m doing to work of 2 people, like someone fresh out of college.

Until─ my meds were out.

I have asperger (now called high functioning autism) in combination with depression and ADHD. Often, these all coincide with each other.( Just ask the community on that.) I was nervous, only having been employed for a month and didn’t want to lose my job.

Remember Bobo?

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Cute, sweet, naive Bobo.

Yep, that’s me. I wanted to be honest with my employer!

So, what did I do? I explained that I would seem a little out of focus and become anxious until my insurance kicked in at the end of the month.

My new boss went from kind and understanding, to apprehensive and quiet. She stopped assigning work to me, kept to herself, and called me into her office. She had just returned from a business trip and explained that someone had caught me doing personal work during work hours. Which wasn’t in the least bit true. I was working on a novel during my lunch hour.

I. Was. Mortified.

I went into a mode that normal people can’t really relate to. I call it aspie rage. Not directed at others, but at yourself. It’s vicious, it’s painful, and you are extremely hard on yourself. The worst part is, you shut down emotionally─ feeling as if the world hates you, and you hate yourself, because they think poorly of you.

I got so distraught, that the next day I woke up very sick. So sick, I couldn’t get out of bed. I had to make a choice, go in like that and possibly chance that it was a virus and get others sick─ or to stay home and rest.

I chose to stay home. I needed it. It was the wrong choice.

The next day, I lost my job.

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My now boyfriend, had barely been seeing me for four months at this point. He had allowed me to move in with him when I lost my apartment in July.

Let me rephrase that─

I didn’t just lose my apartment, I lost everything. No job, no place to stay, no work in sight. I was looking at living from out of my car and my gym membership until I found steady work.

When I got that call, I felt like the biggest screw up in the history of ever. He had been paying my bills, and I returned the favor by losing my job. I beat myself up mentally for a while before finally he told me that it was OK, and not to worry about it.

How I wish my brain worked that easily. Just, ‘alright, we’re going to stop calling ourselves a waste of space now!’ It’s taken years to get as well as I have at not doing that. And still, I know I have room to grow.

Stay tuned for part two, kiddos!

–C