Two top DVD's on identity: Temple Grandin and Charlie Bartlett

I watched Temple Grandin and Charlie Bartlett on the same night. Both films happened to be about individuals out of step with a culture/society and the obstacles overcome to find the place within it as a person of value.

Charlie Bartlett an ode to Harold and Maude, highlights not just the desperation of teens driven to BE…..something. I used to think that if I was busy enough, if I took enough jobs I would feel worth. Charlie does a variety of things at different schools to become popular, because popular equals happy, right.

He is told, by different adults that ‘popular is not the most important thing about high school’.

“What is?” he asks, knowing as we all do, that those who fit in, somewhere, anywhere, can at least have someone to talk to, to hang out with. The adults give no answers.
In a funny not-parody but actual session, Charlie is prescribed Prozac on the basis that IF he is more focused after he is on it, then he had ADD (This is still used by some doctors as a guide, despite that almost ANYONE will be more focused on Prozac, hence the use by exhausted moms, trying to do home and family, and college students).

Charlie decides to make a new business, where he listens to secrets, woes, or just listens to you, and also, can recommend the drugs to survive (prescribed to him by him rich mother’s shrinks). This works gangbusters because it is an easy, possible solution to making that empty ‘where do I belong’, and ‘why am I seen this way’, and ‘who am I’ feelings go away.

There are consequences and Charlie is told ‘It is not the popularity, it is what you do with it that matters.’

So, is there a way for Charlie to make a difference both for his friends, schoolmates and himself? Not without a few mishaps. The kickin song, Hey Man (now you’re really living), by the Eels, is the theme song of the DVD and back song to this taster. Charlie Bartlettis about $5 used, or $7 new.


I hesitated to watch the film Temple Grandin because I did not want to see exploitation of the ‘token’ autistic, as if this represented the diversity of Autism Spectrum (ASD) and hypersensitivity conditions. If it was going to be bad, I didn’t want to watch it. But I took a chance.
First off, Temple Grandin herself does the audio commentary on the DVD along with the writer (and it is clear that the writer does not ‘get’ Temple at some parts, and they are talking past each other). The actual tips and reality of how she survived, and adapted are in the audio commentary. For example, using reading to help with emotional over-stimulation and being around people is in the commentary along with why she uses medication (for anxiety and panic attacks, which happens to label as an anti-depression pill). She also outlines the things which helped her from various people growing up: having table manners, greeting manners, and other social issues drilled into her. But also what things can’t be changed, like over stimulation, and what can slowly be adapted. Temple Grandin, for example, does not use the ‘squeeze machine’ she invented anymore. It stopped working two years ago and she uses hugs from people instead.

For those who are interested in the details of one way to help in a non-physical (not hitting) way to teach some of these things, and socialization, I recommend Marla’s blog about raising Maize. the blog posts from 2007-2008 are particularly interesting on the day to day aspects of child rearing (as narrated through life experiences, noting what does and doesn't work). This includes from how to deal with the overcoming of emotions in leaving a friends house (or how to NOT have your child locked inside a room refusing to leave), to knowing when over-stimulation is about to occur.

The film on Temple is in HBO lush color and shows how fortunate Temple was in many ways. Her mother, a Harvard grad, simply didn’t take the doctor’s word, she wouldn’t give up. And getting a teacher, her high school science teacher, who understood her, cared and helped guide Temple’s life made a huge difference. His presence, advice and challenges in her boarding school, but also succeeding there and then again at university is due in part to his care and belief in her. To Temple, the obstacles and fears were ‘doors’ that her teacher promised lead to new opportunities and worlds for her, so she needed to go through them. It also outlines much of her love of cows and the designs she made. The trailer can be viewed here. I wanted more details about her in different environments but this movie watch pitched assuming that we might like Temple or want to know about her, but after an hour with her, we wouldn’t want to know more about what she was interested in (I slowed and stopped the film to try and get the titles of her articles, but they are cropped out).

I am not sure assigning a blind student as her roomie was someone in Admin being more kind and understanding than those in Academics, or whether (as I know happens) someone decided to room the ‘two problems’ together. As it happened, a student who saw the world visually and a student who saw the world from audio senses were a great match. In fact, when the new roomie came in, tapped the squeeze machine with her cane and told Temple that the machine didn’t bother her but to NOT MOVE IT, I smiled because that kind of room mate is just who she needed.

The film takes you to what is really the mid to late 80’s (stated in the film as 1981 and early 80’s) where for the first time a person with autism could talk to these parents who were tired of ‘experts’ debating if this or that was the cause, or beneficial. Temple was able to give concrete examples and statements that help, like she said in the commentary, she did poorly at algebra, but if she had skipped to geometry and trig, she would have excelled. She also said she met those who are the opposite, acknowledging the diversity within Autism Spectrum.

So a recommendation for the Temple Grandin DVD for the commentary (about $18 third party). For those within the Autism Spectrum, I think you will enjoy the audio commentary from the DVD, as well as recognizing actions (‘of course she’d respond that way’) from Temple, and the alienation from others. For those who want to know more about the world, and the people who continue to change it, and will, as autistic adults already make a difference in how you live your life, and will more and more as their ways of using information and data are better utilized. Temple does emphasize that learning to write, and write well is a great way to advance, as her jobs came from her articles, NOT from her ‘people’ connections.

I guess my highest recommendation is: I really enjoyed myself during BOTH films.

Linda is not an abuser! And talking about abuse in a non-safe space

Linda is not an abuser! I am not in an abusive relationship! I was in a very fucked up head space yesterday and I have this blog rule that I don’t talk about Linda in anything other than good ways for this very reason; that people can like the voice (me) and thus blame someone else (like…say Linda!). And what happened was very complex and covers decades and I put down about 4 sentences. So here goes....

Okay, I was physically abused in my life for many, many years/decades. I have not been ‘abused’ by Linda. Yesterday was a really horrid day for me, partially because I again tried to reconnect with my parents. This meant talking to my father for a LONG time about things that are so unbearable painful for me but yet to him completely dismissive and forgettable or worse that by asking him to remember things like, my brother sexually using my body for over a year, I was being a BAD person. Plus it was clear that my father was, though living a few blocks away, completely unaware of any of my medication conditions including: my need to convert oxygen (my hands turning purple along with my blue lips while we talked didn’t mean anything to him), my seizures, my partial stroke, my loss of memory, pretty much anything. In fact for my anniversary they gave us an album of pictures of me, there aren’t really any pictures from the last two years (with me in a wheelchair), or me fencing (because though invited to tournaments they never came, not even the ones in town).

But then, my father comes from a family where abuse=love. In fact to this day, the rest of the family gets together to verbally and sometimes otherwise abuse each other. Literally nothing good is said; if you make someone cry, if you say something so hurtful they leave, or vomit or pass out, then that means you win (Seriously, spouse dies of cancer, make fun of the member of the family stupid enough to marry them, and then make fun of the dead spouse). And yet they keep doing it over and over again because that is the only signs of love they understand. My mother's heritage was even worse. So in one way I can understand why my father even when he may not WANT to be like that, still ends up being like that. And how when describing how I was told in very vehement terms by my mother that we were not going to be ‘allowed’ to go out with them because I acted completely inappropriately. It turned out that the ‘inappropriately’ was passing out and falling face down in my food. To my Father this was not even memorable. But when he realized it was in the first 9 months or so when “they were ‘processing’ my disability” (meaning they wanted me to control it better so that I represented them better in public….like not be in a wheelchair for example), he said, “Oh yes, that would make sense then.” No apology or remorse really just a “Oh yes, that is how things are.” I don’t want to go on an on because I do love my parents even though they often and frequently hurt me, the one time they might see me every month or two. This however was a concentrated dose, prolonged and finished with my father leaving me crying because he had an appointment elsewhere, and well, me crying wasn’t really enough for him to stay was it?

So all in all a really bad day. Then we had the blog and some emails which didn’t go that great to be honest. But I am the one publishing the blog and I choose to put stuff out there (like this) based on my assumption that people are basically good and sometimes things happen in a very small space of time and you get turned around inside. And I became to believe what I USED to believe; that I deserved whatever physical, sexual or other abuse would come my way. In fact, I used to believe the only way I could exist was to be abused. I know that is wacky thinking but that’s what getting beaten for 19 years and then being forced to tell the person who beat you that you love them (and beaten again if it doesn't sound sincere enough) kind of does right? That’s what being sexually abused and then getting beaten for not having your bed made perfectly does. That is what happens when your extended family tries to create a restraining order on you, or your own grandmother refuses to look at you because you came 'out'. Being sick or disabled doesn’t make a group like that change their mind, being disabled only proves to them that I was ‘weak’ and not really one of them anyway. That is my extended and close family.

So when Linda late at night misunderstood the previously blog and kept verbally slapping me down because she kept talking about how I was stupid and they didn’t want to hire me because of my stupidity, and I was trying to tell her it was the WHEELCHAIR. But she kept saying, “Let me finish what I am saying,” in that tone a boss uses to the lowest underling before going on about the type of stupidity people see me. Well, that was a bit too much. Plus I had the computer open to yet ANOTHER incredibly painful email sent to me ABOUT me and disabled people. Now, Linda knows I am not stupid, she does not think I am stupid, but we run into people a lot who think am stupid because I am in a wheelchair. She didn’t read the blog, or didn’t remember it perfectly and while the post was about how I don’t even get to be seen at all, don’t get to be a human because all people see is the chair, she thought it was about this “stupid” issue. Of course having my partner going on and on about my stupidity while I am in pain (physical) and at the end of my limit of emotional pain too was the end. Also, when Linda works late, she often comes home and has office speak, so I have to just say to her, “Hey, I am NOT your assistant, so why not try saying that again.” Because spouses don’t say “I want you to get me this, this and this and I want that forwarded to me.” – at least we don’t, but if she works 10 hours as a manager at work, that is exactly what she does.

So, I left the bedroom. I went to the kitchen. To Linda, Beth upset plus Kitchen equals Beth is going to get a knife to cut herself. So when I moved my arm she grabbed it. I don’t think she knew how upset she herself was (for reasons not for here), nor how sick I have become and so she grabbed me hard enough to leave little finger bruise marks. Remember, only a short time ago, I was so strong that I could probably lift Linda up with one arm, my epee arm. So Linda grabbing me with the same strength as then (which may have been the last time I felt like this), had a totally different result. Then as I tried to move forward she body checked me (now that I am smaller and weaker than her, I think again, she is not used to the vast difference in strength), hard enough to wrench my shoulder and bounce me quite a ways. Was Linda “physically abusing” me? No. She had however made an assumption and acted on that assumption before talking or waiting to see if it was correct. It was a late and hard day for both of us. And I had not given her the space to tell what she understood and then corrected her but took it all very personally. So no winners here, just the kind of things that happen when couples who love each other have bad days.

However, her bruising and body checking/slamming me confirmed to me WHO I WAS. That I was a person who got these kinds of hurts, these emotional hurts because I DESERVED IT. This idea/action opens up a door in me. Inside that door is a demon which says, “Only when you have been punished ENOUGH will you then be loved.” Because that is what I had been told and what had been written on my body for a couple decades. So I had a whole day of emotional pain to punish myself with, so I started hitting my face, and my body and my legs, and my face again, and standing up, and then falling down (because I wasn’t on oxygen, and not so good on feet anyway).

Okay, this is a very private thing that people with abuse know about sometimes and those that don’t think is sort of crazy. And this not who I am nor have I done anything like this in years, in fact, I thought all that was gone forever. So I guess there is some counseling in my future. But the thing is that Linda tried to talk to me, tried to keep me safe, would sometimes leave to see if she was the trigger, would do anything EXCEPT grab me again because she knew now THAT WAS a trigger. I was in a particularly altered state. Linda wanted only to hug me and take care of me. I couldn’t let that happen until all my sins had been laid upon my body (meaning that I had been beaten and beaten until I couldn’t do that anymore).

So, again something I didn’t really want to talk about to everyone. Something I don't want to be judged about unless you have lived a life like that, in which case this really doesn't need the whole explaination. But this is the internet and people who care about people are going to have feelings. Okay. I would rather show you the type of screwed up person I am, the reason I call myself “the thing” or “the monster” and believe that I can only cause pain and suffering to those around me, than have anyone believe that Linda did this. I am saying this, not in a “Safe space” but in a public and open arena where people will again probably use it against me, because I love Linda and I would rather people understand the truth, which is complex and kind of ugly, than think she is an abuser. I AM an abuser, I just only abuse one person, myself. I never hit Linda, I didn’t last night.

Are my parents to blame? They were just showing me the kind of love they received. Were THEIR FAMILIES to blame? Or was I to blame because I knew better, I counseled about this and yet, this trigger broke through. Was Linda to blame simply because she was having a bad night? Or were the words to blame, words that every other night would have made me laugh and go, “No, not the stupid, the wheelchair, see, I don’t even get up to the level of being assumed stupid because that would require me to be a human instead of just a wheelchair.” Or was I to blame because on the same day I was getting slammed on the phone, on the internet, on email, I decide to have a long conversation to give my parents another chance (which turned out to be another chance to hurt me beyond comprehension). Or is it just what happened.

Well, once a person IS done beating herself, if they have a system which is not so greatly balanced and ill like mine is, it then becomes a problem getting to sleep because I stop breathing. A problem because my lung won’t inflate and my lips and hands are purple. I problem becuase I have partial seizures. A problem because if we go to the hospital I will be under suicide watch, and a problem because I haven’t taken any pain pills for the whole day, and just because you get the demon back behind the door, it still leaves you a wrecked body to deal with. (Seriously, today, I feel like I've been beaten up.....laugh, laugh)

So there is the squalid tale of yesterday. No, Linda is NOT an abuser. Nor an emotional abuser. We are a couple who are trying VERY, VERY hard to leave the legacy of the things done and the attitudes forced on us, into a new and better ones. We want to be balanced, loving, supportive individuals – we know exactly what we want because we have seen the opposite in many forms. And we work toward that. Why yesterday/last night happened is something we will work together to find out and to stop, particularly to stop falling at times of crisis into old patterns. But if anything, it is about some people who are hurting and vulnerable, which I think could include a lot of people out there reading who are hurting and vulnerable in different ways. Now, this is a partial explanation of last night. If I could please, can ask that you please try to treat it with the respect as if this WAS a safe space instead of the big bad internet.

I want to be a good person, and I want to be honest. To do that and live by my values, today that means I have to share with you something very private and rather horrid about me as a human being. Because I want you to understand that to Linda at these times I am like a cat or dog from the SPCA who has been abused. She wants to take care of me when I am in those states, but sometimes, I am so far back in that abuse mentally, I can’t even really see her. I don’t think there are bad people in this story but one person who is and was hurting and couldn’t control herself and another who is hurting because the person she loves had to beat herself to the point of semi-consciousness. All because she (which is I) couldn’t break the chains, couldn’t believe that there was love, unless there was abuse.

Beth and RCMP battle and 'Pick yourself in this picture!'

I figured that everyone who reads here has been or is in high school (if you are in junior high and are here just for the sex toy reviews…shame on you, use a shower head like the rest of us did! Um if you are guy, just ignore that last statement because I don’t even want to imagine what could be done). I also figured unless we want to feel all glum, we could do with something light, almost fluffy. Since it is sunny (heat intolerant remember), I have no tales of daring do. Nor do I want to talk about Pride except that the Police did NOT have a stall there for the first time (full up on LGBT officers I guess?), and I was told by the representative of the civilian component of the RCMP that people had to disclose medical conditions like “Fibro or Chronic Fatigue.”

I said, “That’s so you can make accommodation for them?”

The woman looked at me like I was nuts, “No, that’s so we can screen them and determined if they can do the eight hour shift every single shift because if they can’t then we won’t hire them.”

“So you want to know their medical information to determine NOT to hire them?”

“Hey, lives of officers are on the line” (She is talking about dispatch)

I said, “How about instead, you just have FOUR hour shifts for them?”

“That wouldn’t be FAIR to the rest of us!” she said.

I actually repeated it, “You don’t hire people with chronic fatigue or fibro because giving them four hour shifts wouldn’t be FAIR?”

“Not to all of us doing eight hour shifts!” She said.

I was a LITTLE pissed by this part and said, “Well, you DO have to make accommodation, or don’t you let Jews have Passover off.”

“We DON’T!” she said, “And I’ve had to work Christmas so it is the same for everyone.”

I was just sort of blown away because growing up I had lost a LOT of jobs because I took from Friday sunset to Saturday sunset, Passover and the other Jewish Holy Days off. But this was 2000-something now right, and I am talking to a NATIONAL ORGANIZATION right? One who complies with human rights: the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?

“So you DON’T make accommodation on the basis of disability OR religion??” I asked with disbelief.

“I’m not going to argue with you,” she said, “You KNOW, I GAVE UP my SUNDAY to come down HERE.” (the unspoken “to be with YOU PEOPLE”) was there which told me that if this was the OFFICIAL REPRESENTATIVE of the RCMP at pride, I guess disability rights, religious rights, and now the hardship of her being with us gays was brought to the fore.

I have tried to reach the official office of the Vancouver Recruiting Department of the RCMP to verify her statements without effect. I did find out on-line that as the RCMP IS a federal employer, they are REQUIRED to actively recruit four quota areas and one is disability. The RCMP actually made a 2006 equity report on how they are going to do that (I want a copy of that report) because the first thing the official RCMP recruiting officer said to me when I asked to join and take the test was, “You aren’t going to qualify.” When I said, “Just GIVE ME THE TEST and let the test decide.” He said, nodding to the wheelchair, “There is no point, you aren’t going to qualify and I’m not here to argue” and he walked away to the other corner of the tent and kept his back to me. (Oddly, the least employed section under the equity quotas for the RCMP Nationally is disability at.........2)

That was actually probably the BEST aspect or time I was most respected at pride. Linda asked me on the way home, “Do you even WANT to be in the RCMP?”

I said, “Gathering massive amounts of data, following paper trails, bringing them together into a single information structure, research, following patterns, that is what I did my Ph.D. in? Yes, I want to be a crime stats researcher for the RCMP. And I don’t know why I have to climb a wall to do it but if that is what I have to do, they should at least give me the test!”

But enough of that and instead I did some post cards today and this post card below just begged the question, Which of these girls were you in High School? (Don’t worry guys, there is one for you later. But hey you can talk about who you DATED or LUSTED after from afar if you wish?).

So we have brown hair on left (serious or aloof, the one saying “Stop it! I’m trying to listen?” or the one who dressed perfect to fit in and went through the day mostly alone? Reading books? Writing Poetry?). And then the red head who either is the perfect student or the devil incarnate (tell me she doesn’t look like she is plotting or planning something?). Maybe she is just nice, or MAYBE she can LOOK like she is nice for the teachers and then be the biggest backstabber, gossip in the school? Dunno. Then we have black hair who seems to be unconfined, uncontrollable. If she is laughing, everyone would know and I think she is easily bored too! Also notice how she has done something to the school tie and replaced it with something else. And the sweater is doing something! I am surprised one of her knee highs isn’t falling down (and she is wearing them with sneakers!).

So you look at these three and which do you identify with? And why? I’ll go first. I would say for fashion or rather the apparent inability to coordinate, I would be black haired, also because while she MAY have ironed her jacket like the other two, I think she stuffed it in her locker at some point (not hung up, stuffed in!), that’s me. Also, she takes up the most body space and I was always growing (6'3" takes some time!) so I was like watching a drunk stork, I had NO idea where my elbows were much less my knees. About the most KIND thing said about me by a parent watching track day was that I looked like a Gazelle running (bound, bound, bound!), while the most COMMON thing said was, “There is NO WAY she is going to finish this race!” (I honestly don’t know what about me had this “Will fall or face plant” written all over me, I did finish 3rd usually).

As for facial expression, I think I WANTED to be the red head and just fit in, and teachers were always accusing me of things, one used to yell, “Stop thinking!” at me. But I was the one on the right again, whatever crossed my mind came out on my face. If I thought the teacher was a total bore, my face told everyone. In 8th and 9th grade I did some group magazine work (light modeling) and people were talking about I was going to be great in acting. Then they realized that EVERYTHING I thought came on my face, and I just can’t hide my expressions. So if the director is like, “This time make it happy, and you are just loving this!” and I think, “What a total dork!” that is what shows up (they tried to help me with “controlling my expressions” but that just looked fake.) I showed my night care worker last night, and went from the smiling me to thinking ‘bout the stupid director, and she burst out laughing and said that yes, she could see that wouldn’t work for me.

So I WANTED to be cool and aloof but often I was the unwanted center of attention. Seriously, the amount of times I have just been SITTING there and had teachers yell, “And do YOU have something you want to add!” at me. Wow, how did they know I thought they were teaching this all wrong?! So, wanted to be red hair but am the black hair, the brown haired girl on the left was my nemesis because she WAS the one who was going, “Excuse Mr. Johnstone, I really WANTED to hear what you were saying before we got OFF TRACK” (death glare at me!). Or the one who hated me because I pointed out that technically both A and B COULD be correct on the multiple choice test so he had to announce that question didn’t count (and since she was ALWAYS a top student, that these other dull headed should get free what SHE paid for…..ohhhh!).

So that is me. What about you?

Now for guys I really scoured the male anime pictures but at my school we actually tried to STOP guys going around in Mecha suits and with giant guns or swords so I had to go to my stack of…um…boy/boy love postcards. So guys, please just try to look past the somewhat femme faces. First off, where you THIS GUY? Believe me, every school, geez, almost every grade had at least one. They might be suck ups, they might be super polite and go to church a lot, they might plan to have a career in politics or a minister (who PLANS to have a career in politics in the 10th grade?). But like the bow-tie phase is a tip off, as is the pressed clothes and the ‘oh so polite’ manner. While this person might have carried with them and read and reread a copy of The Fountainhead or another Ayn Rand book, they would never STOOP to swearing, at least not in front of the ‘lesser folk’ (or they read Nietzsche a lot, or they were just the first to volunteer to hand out papers for the teacher).

Okay another pictures and YES, they are all guys. Like I said, try to ignore the femme look. I will focus on the first three. Mr. Blond seems to be the natural athlete, not great in grades, doesn’t talk a lot, or is kind of reserved, and seems in THIS picture to be eyeing up the little guy to see how well his head will fit into a toilet in the guy’s change room during gym class. Of course if you WERE a jock, please give us your own interpretation. Linda said the little guy with brown hair might grow up to be a lawyer. I thought this is a guy who probably talks about stuff other guys don’t talk about, like hopes or emotions or he writes poetry or does other things that seem like he is just walking vulnerability and how long until someone stomps on him or his dreams. Black haired guy is like a prep. Maybe does singing club or journalism, seems to be older than his age in high school, almost “adult” because they listen and don’t talk much. He sort of reminds me not of anyone in my class but like some guys in the year above who seemed… “mature” (remember this is like a 16 year old thinking a 17 old is mature!). But I dunno, maybe they hung out with their friends and made fun of others. Often two or three, they seemed to walk around a lot during lunch (male peacocks?)

The guy in the back actually reminds me of several guys in our class, because they WERE sort of background, the struggled with grades, I tutored one or two, they sat there and didn’t say anything brilliant, were average in sports so not made fun of but not admired either. I don’t even know thinking back where they ate lunch.

I DID have the yellowed haired guy in my class and HE WAS notorious for sending guys out of the locker room naked or doing other disgusting things that guys do in locker rooms (God knows they never….CHANGE! I dunno!). He was a natural athlete and thought people who were not natural athletes were “asking for it” and weaklings. Of course, no matter HOW bad a guy is at sports, particularly track (even Mr. Sensitive there), they would KILL themselves to make sure they finished in front of a GIRL, if we were sharing track.

So for the guys, which are you? Or for the girls which did you date? (Ewwww, but okay, tell all!)

I have to say I never quite understood why the vice principal ALWAYS had me tutoring people, ALWAYS! I mean, I did my homework not overnight but while they said, “Pass up your homework” (look at the page, fill in the answers, get an A-, yeah, that was me, yeah, I know you hate me!). I think the Vice P. was convinced that deep down, if I helped others, I would develop study habits myself. Or maybe it was because I actually showed up and tutored people, and they kept using me, I don’t know. So if you were tutored, it was probably by me in Math, English or Social Studies – Biology I hated and was too busy memorizing with flash cards to help anyone but me. I also edited the school paper (gee, what a shocker, eh!). So, no, don’t want to go back there but that was me. So dish, which were you in these pics and why?