Another post about my hospital stay.

When I first conceived of what you are about to read, I thought I was going to write a post about the music that I listened to whilst I was being treated in an acute-care mental health facility. However, without a context to hang it all on, I find that writing articles about music tends to get boring. And if I get really bored with writing something, I usually take that as a sign that what I am working on is probably not worth the effort.

How I spent the second half of February

(A note before I begin: This entry is going to talk a lot about the goings-on inside an acute-care ward within a mental health facility. For that reason, I am going to use aliases and flat-out mess-ups of names in order to protect anonymity and privacy. Please do not ask me who is who, because even if I do remember, I am not going to tell you. Similarly, if you recognise yourself in these writings and would like to be completely blanked out, feel free to comment.)

Racism, the traps in its definitions, and what we can learn from same.

As I have hinted before, I really love to draw parallels between the struggles of racial minorities such as black people in America and the autism civil rights struggle. Whilst there are significant differences between them, there are also overlaps that have equal significance. So it is worth having a think about the manner in which minorities are discriminated against, and the lessons that autism civil rights activists can learn from same.

Illusions of life, celebrity, and society, part whatever of millions

As I believe much of the trimmings make clear, I started this journal with one very specific purpose in mind. To add my voice and perspective to the so-called debate about autism civil rights. I say so-called debate because as any person who pays attention to the proper meanings of words can tell you, debate implies something. It implies that there are two (or more) sides to the argument, and both have a certain amount of demonstrable merit.

200 posts later, and nothing has changed.

The deterioration of my psychological state, whilst mappable and marked with distinct events, is for the purposes of this writing only a prelude. As I sit and reflect on how every part of me seems to deteriorate further, I want to tell something out in the open that I think needs to be understood by many. It relates to much of the basis of this journal, and since this is the 200th post (yes, it really has been that many), I want to make a definitive statement.

Diabetes, cancer, autism. They are all different. A look at why…

I am autistic. I have diabetes, and I have had diabetes for nearly as long as I have been autistic (in other words, I have had diabetes for the majority of my lifetime). I have cancer, and have been affected by cancer for significant periods of time. Now, alarm bells might go off when I associate all three of these things, but there is a reason I am linking them in this writing. This reason should be carefully considered by readers.

A warning for readers who might be weak of stomach: in the text below the link, I have included images of what I will refer to here as “medical doom”. These show parts of people including myself after a visible part of their person has fallen victim to the actual diseases mentioned in the title, or complications thereof. They are very hardcore. If you feel upset at the mere sight of the faked deaths in Hollywood films, then for fukk’s sake, disable images in your web browser before reading the text below. However, these images might also help you grok what I am trying to tell you.