So I consider “Autistic Australian” to be a contradiction in terms. Let us take a look at why.

So on occasions prior to this writing, I have spoken of the world of difference between being autistic, and having skin cancer or diabetes. Or both, if you happen to be in the situation I am in. Maybe the higher spirits of Queensland were watching me when I posted that, because yesterday morning, I got a very unpleasant surprise concerning the skin cancer that is in my face.

A dozen things that a Powell type autistic adult wishes you grokked

I have two very specific and very unhappy memories relating to the time when I was told that the reason I was having so much difficulty in life was because I am autistic. Number one, I was told before the diagnosis and immediate plan was laid out that things would improve from this point. Very specifically, I was told, I might add. So the fact that the Commonwealth Rehabilitation Service worker who made this promise to me has not been severely disciplined for making promises she had no intention of acting or following upon makes me angry.

Our language: context, tone, and intent all mean something

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. In my previous post, I began to speak about an event that Lydia Brown shared with us on her Fudgebook page in which she was told what words she means. As often happens, writing about this topic caused me to descend into a rage, so I decided to abandon the subject for the time being and instead begin an essay about some of the basics of our language. It is in the hope that some normalistic assholes out there can read it and learn that maybe they do not know everything, and do not deserve to be the sole arbiters of right or wrong.