There is something terrible in that feeling when the realisation hits. First you check your pockets, then the door, then your pockets again just in case lint has metamorphosed magically into your door keys. Then because you still can’t quite believe it you try the door again. All of this happens in a matter of a few seconds until finally you accept your reality. You have locked yourself out. Then the magnitude of your predicament sinks in. Your phone’s indoors, with your wallet and ID. Your landlady is away, not that you have her number, it’s indoors!
When the above last happened to me I ended up walking 2 miles into town to the local locksmith, who then told me he couldn’t help but had a number of an mobile emergency locksmith who could. I phoned and left a message. Several hours later he arrived. By this time I was just pleased to see him but was more than a little conflicted when he told me that to have access to my own home I was going to have to pay him £75.00! I felt powerless and so I paid. He walked up to my door, removed from his tool box a thin square of plastic, slid said plastic down the side of the door and frame until it was level with the locking mechanism. Then with a deft wiggle of the card and a little pressure on the door, hey presto, the door opened. It took him literally 5 seconds, about the same time it took me to write his cheque. I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen.
This was how my most recent obsession started, by paying someone £75.00 to open my door with a piece of plastic. I had to learn how to do this, I had to learn what this man knew. So, I read and read all I could get on the Internet about lock-picking and locks. I bought a book and a set of picks. I bought a set of training locks, I bought some pad-locks, I even bought some special plastic squares just like the locksmith used and I practiced and I practiced. For about a month, locks and lock picking was all I could think of. I’d dream about locks, talk about locks, think about locks. While watching the TV I’d have a padlock in one hand and picks in the other. Gently lifting each pin of the lock whilst applying the gentlest pressure until hearing that satisfying click of the lock popping open.
As with many of my obsessions I had to learn everything I could up to a point that was practical. I learnt how to open standard cylinder locks and pin locks and how to open my door as quickly as the locksmith. I learnt all about tension wrenches, picks and rakes. I learnt all I could right up to the limit of what I felt I needed to. I stopped at mortice locks and knew that unless I was actually going to train as a locksmith I had learnt enough and with that the spell was broken and I resumed my normal interests. I do however, still carry a small lock picking set with me and regularly leave my keys at home so I’ll have to pick my way back in.
I never know when the next obsession will happen but during that time, for as long as it takes, I’ll learn everything I can until I’ve learnt enough. It has always been this way and I’m sure it always will be and I for one hope it doesn’t stop, because this is one of the best things about being an Aspie. When we apply ourselves to something that interests us we can achieve a great deal, often much more than many think possible.
© Paul C Siebenthal Oct 2012.
ELyssa D. Durant © 2007-2020
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Obsessively picky - @Aspienaut - WIRED differently || AutismAid
A tempering. Childhood meltdowns and anger. - @Aspienaut - WIRED differently || AutismAid
When my character was still developing, I had not yet formed the coping mechanism I would soon rely on as an adult when over whelmed or upset; namely, going into ‘Stand-by’ mode. A state in which I turn inwards, go quiet but eventually my processors cool, I reboot and then can carry on. It was not always so.
A new follower on twitter expressed concerns about her son’s temper. I offered to write a short post about what he may be feeling and why he could be reacting as he is.
In order to explain what at times may seem unexplainable it helps to understand a few basic things about growing up ‘Wired Differently’. When you describe what growing up on the spectrum is like, it makes ‘melt-downs’ and anger slightly more understandable in young people on the spectrum.
For the first few years of my life I was able to live in a quiet world. The world of home, of familiarity. My bedroom was exactly as I needed it to be, the people who came into my life were people I knew, people I expected to see. The noises I heard and the food I ate were what I expected. I wore the clothes that I liked and which felt good against my skin. When things deviated from this norm I would act as though the world was ending. My reaction would seem so extreme, so over the top, so spoilt and angry it would dumbfound those around me as they watched this child go berserk because something was moved or had changed. I would hit another child at nursery for approaching me. I’d pick up a rock in the playground and chase a child down and throw it at them with all my strength because they had moved my toy car from the painted line on which it was traveling. There were so many things and so many times that my reaction would seem extreme. When I was 6 it was 1980. Kids like me were just not understood, our behaviors rung no alarm bells, we were just called naughty, were just bad children.
On my first day at school I wasn’t even meant to be going. We were actually taking my sister to her first day at a new school. On arrival the headmaster asked my mum how old I was, my mum told him and he took my hand and said, ‘he can come too then!’ That was my first day. It sounds incredible now but that’s what happened. Needless to say, school was tough for me. School for me was about coping. Managing fear, managing stress and managing people.
At the back of the class on the alphabet animal wall was a clock made by Smiths. A large round clock with a long second hand, a second hand that seemed too thin for its length. With each tick, each tok the end of the second hand shuddered, as did I with the sound it made, a sound which only I appeared to hear. This combined with the noise of the chalk on the board, the smell of the poster paint. The metal chair legs, whose rubber ends were long worn away by bored children’s fidgets, scraped along the floor. All of this made it almost impossible for me to follow what teacher was saying. I could tell from the letters on the board and the work on my peers desks that we were at this very moment practicing writing letters. I on the other hand, was just trying to cope with being there.
Factor in; the meaningless facial expressions of your peers and the teacher, the strange things they say, like ‘you need to pull your socks up young man’ or ‘when I get home I can’t wait to watch the football, its going to be blinding!’ So, there you are trying to cope with all this but how do you cope? How do you manage? You start to focus in on the things that you can control. You develop routines, ways of doing things that allow you this brief window of feeling that things are ok, that you may even have some control. You line up your pens on your desk. You wear the same clothes, every day. You eat your food in order and only the foods that you can texturally cope with.
You focus in on the things you can do. You can’t cope with the school lesson but you know things, you remember things, and these make you feel better. So you try and tell people what you know, but its not what they were talking about and they get annoyed with you. You find it hard to take on board the kind words of those who care for you because what they say doesn’t make any sense either. They talk about things getting better, improving in time but you don’t work like that. There is no future in your world view, just a now! You don’t imagine the future, you find no solace in this magical place, this future ‘never never land’. You are just you, here, now and you’re frightened. Stressed and lonely, your way of needing to do things; your routines, your knowledge and interests literally mean everything to you. They feel like they’re all you have and when even these are taken away, changed, stopped, then to you, it feels like a matter of life and death. Your very existence is at stake and so your reaction reflects that. That is why we meltdown, shutdown, go into stand-by or even lose our temper. Yet we keep on trying, keep on learning, trying again and again to cope with this mind blowing world in which we find ourselves.
© Paul C Siebenthal Nov 2012.
Powers That Beat by @ELyssaD™: Embracing my life with Aspergers
Embracing my life with Aspergers
For me, learning I had Aspergers was a huge relief. An "OMG" moment... you mean there is a name for it?
I have always been different.
I find the ordinary world ridden with useless scents, sounds, noise, and people.
People that lie, manipulate and hate.
Manipulative people are a mystery to me. Why not just ask for what you need?
I have always been one to give people what they need. Not necessarily what they want, but what the need.
People don't need that loud blaring music or strong scented perfume. All it does is provide a distraction. One I can live with out.
When asked questions, I tell people the truth unaware that the truth is not what they want to hear. Kinda like, "do these pants make my ass look fat?" my reply might be, "no your ass makes your ass look fat."
Not exactly what people want to hear, huh?
I notice other behaviors and "oddities" that can now be attributed to Aspergers... not liking to be hugged by strangers; difficulty dancing with people other than myself.. I want to ask, "what do I do with my hands?"
I still get lost in my own head, my own home, my own neighborhood... but I'm finding my way... I may have gotten here a little later than most, but hopefully points are given for starting late and finishing strong.
My life with Aspergers is just beginning... I have much to do...
For now, that's all.Just me,
e
@ELyssaD™
Who is ELyssaD™?
Who is ELyssaD™?
I started this private site after my name, ID, medical and financial info was stolen, made public in Pastebin, and sold on T-shirts at the DefCon hackers conference.I never got one penny for the T-shirts and apparel sold and was never reimbursed for the damage done to my computer equipment and mobile devices as a result of HARD CORE hackers.
I was promised the T-shirts and promo ads would be pulled from the event and the black hat hackers known as Lulz, AntiSec, (Sabu and Co.) would take them down and refrain from using my likeness for promotional purposes.
They were not.They used my name, my likeness, my photos, my social security number, my ID, my address and more to create a slew of fake social media accounts to post insane bullshit across a variety of platforms.
They even socially engineered my closest friends and family members in various forums to reinforce the charade.
They claimed the T-shirts were for charity and that $1.00 would be donated for every ELyssaD garment sold.
Not only did I not receive any such monies, I am quite certain these fuckwits have no idea how serious it is to impersonate a 501(c)3.
So not only did they make a profit from exploiting every aspect of my life, they harassed my friends, impersonated an ex-cop who has been one of most trusted allies and confidant; threatened friends who dare to speak up on my behalf by calling them on the phone and identifying themselves as law enforcement. ANOTHER felony.
They made a profit. They offered a reward for tittie pics, had podcasts, comic books and sold a line of women's apparel to promote their podcasts, show and of course, make money.
They created multiple fake identities on various social media platforms. They pwned my website, social media accounts, linked in, private forums, etc... harassed my friends and posted my fathers home address on the internet.
They altered personal documents they stole from my private files, altered them, and had the nerve to put the FAKE documents back in to my web albums and made them public.
ONE LOGIN = ONE FELONY
Destruction of evidence (especially records that pertain to employee benefits is a whole other class of crimes)
These individuals are clearly guilty, and have no problem advertising their skills across the hacker community.
They destroyed my professional credibility with disinformation writing posting ridiculous website entries that present my professional certifications as a practicing therapist to make them appear as if I was the patient not the provider.
65 "people" impersonating me on social media platforms?
My friends, sister, brothers, my mother, and even "Agent Daddy" became targets as well.
I started this site hoping for a do-over. My name is ELyssa. ELyssaD™ and, for he record I've never done midget porn!
Just me,
e
@ELyssaD
Autism and early exposure to traffic pollution linked || AutismAid
Autism and early exposure to traffic pollution linked
by Melissa Healy, latimes.comNovember 26th 2012
In a finding that points to a link between environmental toxins and autism, a new study shows that children who were exposed to the highest levels of traffic-related air pollution during gestation and in early infancy were three times more likely to be diagnosed with the neurodevelopmental disorder than were those whose early exposure to such pollutants was very low.
The study, published Monday in the Archives of General Psychiatry, found that early exposure to high levels of air pollution in general was linked to an increased likelihood of autism in a group of more than 500 children followed for several years from birth. The researchers gathered regional air quality data and used detailed calculations to estimate the air quality around the residence in which a child's mother spent her pregnancy and the resulting child spent his or her first year.
Their findings suggest that the link between air pollution and autism is evident largely at the highest levels of exposure, and slightly higher when the exposure comes later in a woman's pregnancy. The strongest link was found between exposure to nitrogen dioxide -- a pollutant found plentifully around freeways -- and autism, while exposure to particulates was less strongly linked to autism.
The researchers found that the link between traffic-related air pollutants held steady after they took into account parental education, ethnicity, whether a mother smoked during pregnancy, or how densely populated the region was. That suggests that the finding is not just a backhanded way of capturing some link between autism and the socioeconomic or demographic factors in which a child is raised.
The study refines earlier findings by the same authors that linked autism to a child's living near a freeway.
While the authors caution that this link is not proof that air pollution causes autism, they do suggest there are several ways in which air pollutants could influence the development or function of a child's brain in ways that could result in the sorts of neurodevelopmental problems seen in autism. Diesel exhaust particles and polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons, which are present in traffic pollutants, have been shown to interfere with gene expression important in healthy brain development. Other research suggests that traffic-related air pollutants induce inflammatory reactions and oxidative stress in the brain and throughout the body.
The article was one of three studies published in the Archives of General Psychiatry probing autism's possible origins and its effects on the brain. Those come at a time when the diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder in U.S. children has skyrocketed. In the last six years alone, it has increased 78%.
Collectively, the studies "point to an urgent need for more research on prenatal and early post-natal brain development in autism, with a focus on how genes and early development combine to increase risk" for autism, wrote Geraldine Dawson, chief science officer of Autism Speaks and a professor of psychiatry at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
Original Page: http://www.latimes.com/health/boostershots/la-heb-autism-traffic-pollution-20121126,0,970458.story
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