Recommendation: VECTORS OF AUTISM – Eye-opening film about the feelings and perceptions of Laura, an autistic adult.

I just still can’t believe that this occurred.
Yes, autistics have feelings. Strong feelings.
And autistics have personal potential for themselves.
Life-worthy and loveable.
We don’t deserve genocide.
We deserve happiness.
I feel one hundred percent taken up and released back into freedom.
Thank you, Laura! A trillionbillion times!
‘Cause times are changing. ūüėČ

The link to her site:

http://www.lauranagle.net/Film.htm

here’s the direct link to the film:

http://www.cultureunplugged.com/documentary/watch-online/play/50992/Vectors-of-Autism–a-documentary-about-Laura-Nagle

As I was born and found a fascist world #AutismIsNotACrime (by Ruuby May Blue)

The time when I was born held lots of opportunities to look forward to.
As I, in the age of two, came to a care-mothers house, I faced that these opportunities didn’t hold very caring, but brutal and superior supervisors for me.
They did not want to even know about my autism. So they didn’t.

When I entered school, I faced that teachers weren’t very ambitioned to teach but compel or just pass over me.
School mates weren’t making friends or supporting but treating me like ‘the alien’, a thing that would immediately pull a lasergun or start using psi-force on them. Their parents did not give a flip about if I was interested in them or not and finally I’ve got used to being a victim of constant bullies, deprivation or physical attacks.

As I entered to highschool it got worse.
A constant torture through teachers, pupils and at least…
..my own family.

Why? I talked, moved and looked different from them,
I did not shout, did not fight, I loved ‘unloveable things’ and smiled insecurely or turned my eyes down.

The day I started my vocational training – the same.
But I learned.
I forced myself to lift my gaze and
interact the way the others did.
But this time I was old enough to make this my decision.

Today I have two friends, I know over a long period of time and I do –
somedays good, somedays bad to cope with my environment.
I even work hard on a relationship to make it a real partnership with a balanced giving and taking.
All this, because I feel it can be very rewarding and I really do feel love for these people.

I don’t hold a gun in my closet, waiting for payment day.
I don’t even really have a feeling of wishing someone bad who hurted me.
Revenge is one unlogical nonsense to me, that isn’t rewarding in any way.

And I don’t feel like proving this to anyone either. The press puts autistics under a kind of pressure to do so.

Now I am here. After so many years of being denied, mistreated and violated.

Now I am here and all over the world there’s a misconception spread by uninformed, uninvolved journalists who teach the people to fear and hate me.
The Asperger autistic they don’t know.
“Aspergers seem to live in a self-centered and almost fascist world”, they say.

Oh! It never crossed my mind, that I bullied, denied, ignored, robbed and raped myself for thirty years.
Why the heck do I still care for others, if it’s just me – in a vacuum?

Yesterday the European elections took place. Well now, I must come to the conclusion, that it must have only been Aspergers voting Aspergers into the new fascist parliament.
Maybe this is our only way to get attention of the rest of fascists instead of pulling the trigger 24/7. (Gets exhausting at times.)
But maybe, too, you’d do better to watch the Elliott Rogers inside yourself(?)

This is how easy people are.
(Who ARE these folks, reading and believing this bullshit away from the spot, never questioning these journalists credibility?)
This is how simple their minds are made.
This is how they make the world.
This fascist.
This brutal.
This self-glorifying.

It’s not a crime, being Asperger autistic. But it now definately means
becoming criminalized.

BLOG: WHY EMPATHY IS A DO-WORD! (by Ruuby May Blue)

A woman with a little baby in a baby carriage.

Takes seat with her mother in an outside restaurant.

They start chatting.

I start eating my meal.

Another woman takes seat with her son close to the carriage.

She sits, touching it with her back.

She lights a cigarette.

The smoke streams into the pram.

Streams and streams and streams.

The mother watches.

I am suffocating. Can’t speak. Can’t scream. The meal stuck in my throat.

The cigarette-woman has smoked almost all of it. Into the baby’s lungs.

Finally the mother gets up, turning the pram around.

The smoker squints over her shoulder and it almost looks a little snooty.

I don’t know, if I get the situation here.

Everyone saw the smoke floating into the baby’s face. The talk was more important, the food was more important, the sitting place was more important and the cigarette was more important; more important than a baby, who could not do anything about it.

And I am just the autistic. I do not have a clue. Because I am less empathic.

 

 

Summer season started. People are celebrating at warm evenings.

They are inviting guests to their homes.

They arrive after work, around eight o’clock p.m. .

In the middle of the week.

They start chatting.

Laughing.

Louder.

Louder!

They turn the music louder, otherwise they won’t hear it, because of the loud talking.

They now shout, because otherwise they won’t understand each other, for the music has concert volume.

Someone closes the window with a bam!

Someone opens a window and angrily yells: “Hello?!”, then closes the window.

I also renounce the fresh air while sleeping.

Sleeping? Gosh, it’s 1:00 a.m. and I am not sleeping. Tomorrow’s friday and I’ll have to do some hard tasks, like going to strange places, talking to strange people, hoping my selective mutism wouldn’t catch me, which mutes me off now, in front of my neighbor.

The child above my appartment woke up too, now rumbles sleepless across the floor.

2:00 a.m., the party’s still going.

House rules, house rules….it echoes in my head. My heart beats fast, so full of anger, until I finally fall asleep.

Four days a week on average it goes like this.

It is normal, that the rest needy pay for the fun of a majority.

I don’t know, if I got the situation here.

 But I am just the autistic. I do not have a clue. Because I am less empathic.

I just think, empathy ain’t worth anything without¬†active participation.

 

¬†‚ÄúThe Ark Of Autism” (by Ruuby May Blue) Expressions of PosAutivity: #AutismPositivity2014‚Ä≥

In these times of ‘Autism Speaks’s’ disgraceful messaging, tortureful ‘behavoural therapy’ methods, investigations in ‘how to prevent a part of human kind from living’ and money raising organizations, making a market out of our neurology, treating humans as objects, it is hard at some days to make a positive statement as an autistic person.

In my personal case, -things should start with being personal-, there is a benefit, that makes me see the beauty above, even in the darkest depths.
It’s a collection.
An archive of what I call ‘the little enlightening’, which forms a constant ‘well of life’.
Nobody can take that from me.

I have my renunciations, but I still feel privileged.
My ark is a manifested source in the nature of things.
And no matter what,
human societies can’t take the most tiny moth away, no matter how many forrests they will burn or how much torture they’ll bring to me.

I won’t save the moths, the daisies and seashells for me alone.
I will keep them for my tormentors too.

Maybe once, there will come a time, when their descendants need the remembrance of all the creatures their fathers and mothers have wiped away.

I don’t need no researcher to show me the figment of my genes.
I can see them.
I can feel them.
They aren’t stale.
They are physical, changeable and vital.
And they have their own memories.
And they aren’t just genes.

They will preserve the golden core of life essence.
They are our communication.

Therefore,
as we all keep this in us and pass it from being to being,
we no longer need to fear.
Until the day we will be extinguished from this earth, there will always be conciousness and awareness enough.

What remains for all of us to do,
is to learn.

Ruuby May.

This awkward message was brought to you by Asperger Autism. ūüėČ