As good a place as ever, I find myself stuck. I am insignificant. I am clear on that. I watch British TV and find that I am watching the next generation, the up and coming Burtons, McKellen's, and Gielgud's. I work with small children, I am watching the next's. All of them, and two of them are mine, but there are more coming and they are amazing, as are my own. My father apologized, but my mother didn't. Instead she sent me a letter, the message basically was "well, good luck with the next bit". Funny when you think of it, I guess I also earned my realistic, pragmatic viewpoint from her. I recently realized the whole reason I pursued acting was to get her attention, and it worked, really well. For quite some time she would take the time to direct me in my monologues, she was really good at that, and I learned stuff, and got better. Then I started making friends, people would admire my work and "voila" friends, so I kept doing it. Too, for a brief time she actually seemed to like me. But, no more. That part is over. And, now she doesn't even pretend to like Christopher. That part, too, is over. Why? I've been sad about it, I am so very much like her in many ways. And, yes, I am also like my father. Now I am studying the Autism Spectrum Disorder and beginning to believe that she, perhaps, qualifies, and maybe in a "shadow" form so might I and my siblings, and to some degree, perhaps even Christopher. I see bits of each of us in the descriptions and am, frankly, freaked out and anxious, nervous and worried to continue my studies, and, too, on some level I just want to crawl into a hole, cover up and expire. There is a weird jealousy I am experiencing for those who've left. I watch and observe and marvel and admire this place and all the beings that inhabit it and the things these beings are capable of and think wow! really, and on the other hand the pain these experiences inflict is often so debilitating that I find myself completely paralyzed. So there it is.

As good a place as ever, I find myself stuck. I am insignificant. I am clear on that. I watch British TV and find that I am watching the next generation, the up and coming Burtons, McKellen's, and Gielgud's. I work with small children, I am watching the next's. All of them, and two of them are mine, but there are more coming and they are amazing, as are my own. My father apologized, but my mother didn't. Instead she sent me a letter, the message basically was "well, good luck with the next bit". Funny when you think of it, I guess I also earned my realistic, pragmatic viewpoint from her. I recently realized the whole reason I pursued acting was to get her attention, and it worked, really well. For quite some time she would take the time to direct me in my monologues, she was really good at that, and I learned stuff, and got better. Then I started making friends, people would admire my work and "voila" friends, so I kept doing it. Too, for a brief time she actually seemed to like me. But, no more. That part is over. And, now she doesn't even pretend to like Christopher. That part, too, is over. Why? I've been sad about it, I am so very much like her in many ways. And, yes, I am also like my father. Now I am studying the Autism Spectrum Disorder and beginning to believe that she, perhaps, qualifies, and maybe in a "shadow" form so might I and my siblings, and to some degree, perhaps even Christopher. I see bits of each of us in the descriptions and am, frankly, freaked out and anxious, nervous and worried to continue my studies, and, too, on some level I just want to crawl into a hole, cover up and expire. There is a weird jealousy I am experiencing for those who've left. I watch and observe and marvel and admire this place and all the beings that inhabit it and the things these beings are capable of and think wow! really, and on the other hand the pain these experiences inflict is often so debilitating that I find myself completely paralyzed. So there it is.