In celebration of Gus Walz, I want to share my perspective on what living life as neurodivergent has been like via going to a magic show.
I’m looking forward to going to the magic show. It’s written down on my calendar, circled, and there’s a countdown until showtime. Fortunately, I have a physical ticket – which I love. It has a perforated stub attached and I tease at the ticket a little bit to rip it because I love ripping perforated things. But I leave enough of the stub attached to the ticket so that it’s not voided.
On the day of the show, I make sure that I have my pre-ripped ticket, put a check mark against the date in my calendar and set out to meet up with my friends and family who are also going to the magic show. I will drive by myself but offer to pick someone up, if needed, and hope that they don’t really need a ride because this will entail doing some reconnaissance on the map app to figure out how long the trip will take. But, if they do need rides, I will make sure that I pick them up with time to spare so that we’re not rushed. Contrary to conventional wisdom – I have empathy; a shit load of empathy. The way that I show that I love folks is to be on time, make sure my car is in working order, have a full tank of gas and the directions pre-loaded into the map app. I will also make sure that any riders have their tickets too. They will show them to me.
At the magic show, I will think about who I am sitting next to. It’s not that I don’t love everyone – it’s that I like magic shows in a different way than most neurotypical folks. And I don’t want to ruin the experience for them. I will sit at the end, so that I only have to sit by 1 person that I know. By the time the show starts, I have turned off my phone and I identified all of the fire exits. I already know what I want to eat and drink during intermission. It’s what I always get.
The show starts and this will be the only part of the show that we can all agree on. After this, the first trick will be performed and things will get dicey after that. Since the magician is directing my attention over to stage right, I will look stage left. I see the curtain shift subtly. I figure that there is only one outcome to the trick. I am correct. I also know how the trick was done. If I was the magician, I’d have words with my crew about staying away from the curtain.
Everyone that I’m with loves the trick.
It’s not that I ‘hate’ the trick. I like it, but not in the same way. The entire magic show continues in this way with me seeing slight deflections in boxes, hearing latches open & shut over the rising sound of the orchestra, and noticing the placement of various containers over trap doors on the stage. For the most part, I can figure out how each trick is done. The magician is very clever and I appreciate the care and practice that has gone into the performance.
After the show is over, everyone that I love is talking about how great the show is and that they can’t figure out how the tricks are done.
Cue the anxiety.
I know that I shouldn’t talk about how the tricks are done because, socially, it’s frowned upon and I’ll come out looking like a know-it-all. So, I will mask. I will smile and say that it was a great show (I mean it!) but I will not talk about how the tricks are done. Most of my friends already understand that I think the way I do, but there’s always a bully.
“What’s the problem (freak, implied)? You didn’t like the show?”
I feel the attack. These assholes always have a radar to home in on people like me.
“I liked the show,” I say truthfully.
“What was your favorite trick?”
“I don’t have a favorite.” FWIW, it seems unfair to the other tricks to pick a favorite. Also, the magician has to curate the tricks in a way that the show flows together. So, to dismiss the card tricks at the expense of the grand finale water torture chamber trick doesn’t seem like a fair fight.
“How can that be, that you don’t have a favorite trick, (freak).”
I don’t like this person and I will not continue the conversation. I will stare at them. And I will walk away.
The stress and anxiety of trying to fit it with others often means that I will mask how I feel about the magic show. If I don’t know them, I will make bland comments until I figure them out. If we do know each other we will share our perspectives on the show. If I love them (and want to sleep with them) I will draw detailed sketches on shitloads of paper and do a data dump on each magic trick.
Being around neurotypical people can be draining. There’s an expectation that I will share their perspective of the magic show but, no, I didn’t notice the earrings that the assistant was wearing, I didn’t notice the costume changes. Being in a small talk conversation with them where I have to pretend to notice or care about little things that have NO BEARING on how the magic trick was done is exhausting.
After the show is over, I will grab something at the diner with my close friends and family. I will run my fingers along the perforated ticket that is now stub-less. I will safely drop off any folks who have ridden with me to the magic show. And then, I will use the map app to find a completely new way to get home. And I will think about new adventures I want to explore.
Kind of hate the defense of Gus Walz because he's "special needs". That says that it's still wrong for typical men or boys to cry, or show any emotion in public.
A kid that loves his dad is allowed to feel so proud and overwhelmed that he cries with love and joy. He gets to do that, and it's OK. Don't defend him because he has challenges; defend him because it's OK to cry.
I grew up under the hand of a man the polar opposite of Tim Walz. Do I have daddy issues? I sure fucking do. Are they my fault? Not that I can figure out. Unless it's my fault that he was a psychopath.
I already have a love for Tim Walz and his family that makes me bawl too. Why couldn't I grow up with them? Why couldn't Tim be my dad?
I must not have been paying attention because I had no idea Tim Walz had any challenges. I was listening to Coach and his words were inspiring and genuine. When he called out the names of his 3 children that are so loved and Tim stood up, pointing and crying, I was crying too. I thought it was a son who was touched by the words of his loving father and was reacting with love, pride and joy. That’s my dad!! No shame in that Tim, trust me. I’m excited for you all as a family and an example to others in this country who for too long have seen the Trumps and have forgotten what a normal, decent and loving family looks like. You Tim, and your family, are what makes this country great. I’m excited to see our future together with Kamala and your dad! 💙💙💙
OMG I'm sittimg here crying after watching this!! I love this guy and I'm so proud to be a bedwetting worried liberal Democrat!! I have been privately despondent about the possible destruction of our country by another Dump administration and I see that we really have a chance to avoid that now!!! I'm really excited now and so grateful and glad to be on this team. Wow.
Could be that my bar is not very high, but I am home and showered, and my house is clean enough, and the litter boxes have been tended, and the cats are fed and happy. I’m sitting in front of the fire in my night pajamas, hanging out in Wonkville. I talked to my wood supplier today, let them know what the measurements were on the wood delivery, and they are going to make it right, which means I’m not gonna have to eke out my supply to cover my winter, or dip into my just in case stash. One more week of push at work before I can throttle back a little bit.
My cup runneth over. Maybe it’s not a very big cup, maybe it’s got a few chips out of it. But dammit. It’s my cup, and I’m happy.
These are the same assholes that gushed over the blubbering homicidal maniac, Kyle Rittenhouse, who sobbed on the stand after murdering two protesters in Wisconsin. As for GOP kids, maybe I could imagine Barron Trump, accompanied by a giant black devil dog, pointing at the third story of his father's mansion as the maid jumps through a window and hangs herself. Kid gives me serious Damien Thorn vibes.
Conservatives believe dads are to be feared, not loved. I once saw a meme, I swear to God, that said, "If you kid doesn't look like this [cowering in the corner] when you come home, you've failed as a parent." Of course they don't grok a child admiring her father.
Movie night for me fizzed, or should I say DomPartner did (😡don’t ask). BUT saw this g em earlier today- if you need a ‘feel good’ flick:
https://youtu.be/9dP5lJnJHXg?si=7s-DDeOBdvG3BqmL
In celebration of Gus Walz, I want to share my perspective on what living life as neurodivergent has been like via going to a magic show.
I’m looking forward to going to the magic show. It’s written down on my calendar, circled, and there’s a countdown until showtime. Fortunately, I have a physical ticket – which I love. It has a perforated stub attached and I tease at the ticket a little bit to rip it because I love ripping perforated things. But I leave enough of the stub attached to the ticket so that it’s not voided.
On the day of the show, I make sure that I have my pre-ripped ticket, put a check mark against the date in my calendar and set out to meet up with my friends and family who are also going to the magic show. I will drive by myself but offer to pick someone up, if needed, and hope that they don’t really need a ride because this will entail doing some reconnaissance on the map app to figure out how long the trip will take. But, if they do need rides, I will make sure that I pick them up with time to spare so that we’re not rushed. Contrary to conventional wisdom – I have empathy; a shit load of empathy. The way that I show that I love folks is to be on time, make sure my car is in working order, have a full tank of gas and the directions pre-loaded into the map app. I will also make sure that any riders have their tickets too. They will show them to me.
At the magic show, I will think about who I am sitting next to. It’s not that I don’t love everyone – it’s that I like magic shows in a different way than most neurotypical folks. And I don’t want to ruin the experience for them. I will sit at the end, so that I only have to sit by 1 person that I know. By the time the show starts, I have turned off my phone and I identified all of the fire exits. I already know what I want to eat and drink during intermission. It’s what I always get.
The show starts and this will be the only part of the show that we can all agree on. After this, the first trick will be performed and things will get dicey after that. Since the magician is directing my attention over to stage right, I will look stage left. I see the curtain shift subtly. I figure that there is only one outcome to the trick. I am correct. I also know how the trick was done. If I was the magician, I’d have words with my crew about staying away from the curtain.
Everyone that I’m with loves the trick.
It’s not that I ‘hate’ the trick. I like it, but not in the same way. The entire magic show continues in this way with me seeing slight deflections in boxes, hearing latches open & shut over the rising sound of the orchestra, and noticing the placement of various containers over trap doors on the stage. For the most part, I can figure out how each trick is done. The magician is very clever and I appreciate the care and practice that has gone into the performance.
After the show is over, everyone that I love is talking about how great the show is and that they can’t figure out how the tricks are done.
Cue the anxiety.
I know that I shouldn’t talk about how the tricks are done because, socially, it’s frowned upon and I’ll come out looking like a know-it-all. So, I will mask. I will smile and say that it was a great show (I mean it!) but I will not talk about how the tricks are done. Most of my friends already understand that I think the way I do, but there’s always a bully.
“What’s the problem (freak, implied)? You didn’t like the show?”
I feel the attack. These assholes always have a radar to home in on people like me.
“I liked the show,” I say truthfully.
“What was your favorite trick?”
“I don’t have a favorite.” FWIW, it seems unfair to the other tricks to pick a favorite. Also, the magician has to curate the tricks in a way that the show flows together. So, to dismiss the card tricks at the expense of the grand finale water torture chamber trick doesn’t seem like a fair fight.
“How can that be, that you don’t have a favorite trick, (freak).”
I don’t like this person and I will not continue the conversation. I will stare at them. And I will walk away.
The stress and anxiety of trying to fit it with others often means that I will mask how I feel about the magic show. If I don’t know them, I will make bland comments until I figure them out. If we do know each other we will share our perspectives on the show. If I love them (and want to sleep with them) I will draw detailed sketches on shitloads of paper and do a data dump on each magic trick.
Being around neurotypical people can be draining. There’s an expectation that I will share their perspective of the magic show but, no, I didn’t notice the earrings that the assistant was wearing, I didn’t notice the costume changes. Being in a small talk conversation with them where I have to pretend to notice or care about little things that have NO BEARING on how the magic trick was done is exhausting.
After the show is over, I will grab something at the diner with my close friends and family. I will run my fingers along the perforated ticket that is now stub-less. I will safely drop off any folks who have ridden with me to the magic show. And then, I will use the map app to find a completely new way to get home. And I will think about new adventures I want to explore.
Hi Bob! I hope this resonated with you.
Kind of hate the defense of Gus Walz because he's "special needs". That says that it's still wrong for typical men or boys to cry, or show any emotion in public.
A kid that loves his dad is allowed to feel so proud and overwhelmed that he cries with love and joy. He gets to do that, and it's OK. Don't defend him because he has challenges; defend him because it's OK to cry.
I grew up under the hand of a man the polar opposite of Tim Walz. Do I have daddy issues? I sure fucking do. Are they my fault? Not that I can figure out. Unless it's my fault that he was a psychopath.
I already have a love for Tim Walz and his family that makes me bawl too. Why couldn't I grow up with them? Why couldn't Tim be my dad?
From one of America's abandoned children.
Magas are riddled with daddy issue.
I must not have been paying attention because I had no idea Tim Walz had any challenges. I was listening to Coach and his words were inspiring and genuine. When he called out the names of his 3 children that are so loved and Tim stood up, pointing and crying, I was crying too. I thought it was a son who was touched by the words of his loving father and was reacting with love, pride and joy. That’s my dad!! No shame in that Tim, trust me. I’m excited for you all as a family and an example to others in this country who for too long have seen the Trumps and have forgotten what a normal, decent and loving family looks like. You Tim, and your family, are what makes this country great. I’m excited to see our future together with Kamala and your dad! 💙💙💙
Looking for the block, and not just the "not interested" button....
OMG I'm sittimg here crying after watching this!! I love this guy and I'm so proud to be a bedwetting worried liberal Democrat!! I have been privately despondent about the possible destruction of our country by another Dump administration and I see that we really have a chance to avoid that now!!! I'm really excited now and so grateful and glad to be on this team. Wow.
Could be that my bar is not very high, but I am home and showered, and my house is clean enough, and the litter boxes have been tended, and the cats are fed and happy. I’m sitting in front of the fire in my night pajamas, hanging out in Wonkville. I talked to my wood supplier today, let them know what the measurements were on the wood delivery, and they are going to make it right, which means I’m not gonna have to eke out my supply to cover my winter, or dip into my just in case stash. One more week of push at work before I can throttle back a little bit.
My cup runneth over. Maybe it’s not a very big cup, maybe it’s got a few chips out of it. But dammit. It’s my cup, and I’m happy.
That does sound good. Enjoy!
“Hey mom, where’s Cricket?”
Them’s some brave little kids!
These are the same assholes that gushed over the blubbering homicidal maniac, Kyle Rittenhouse, who sobbed on the stand after murdering two protesters in Wisconsin. As for GOP kids, maybe I could imagine Barron Trump, accompanied by a giant black devil dog, pointing at the third story of his father's mansion as the maid jumps through a window and hangs herself. Kid gives me serious Damien Thorn vibes.
Eric cries a lot. But it's not about pride.
Conservatives believe dads are to be feared, not loved. I once saw a meme, I swear to God, that said, "If you kid doesn't look like this [cowering in the corner] when you come home, you've failed as a parent." Of course they don't grok a child admiring her father.
Now if all those manly guys who came to trump with tears in their eyes cuz he made America weird again were real, THAT would be emotionally unstable.
I just want to hug Gus, what a sweet kid!