The Matrix

I thought that I would faithfully write about the journey in raising my son. The more I wrote, the more solid I became in my convictions to organize this brain that wasn't mine, to train into it some alien pliable form that was not going to stay on track anyway, and otherwise teach what seemed unteachable. Daily writing brought too much verbal thinking into my own visually-oriented mind to allow me to grasp the world in which my son immersed himself. And so...I embraced my own scattered nature, my own visual and spatial world, and became a part of his world. We were much happier -not that the road was smooth- when I invited my son into our world, slowly enticing him into space, a tentative shared space, between his universe and ours. I hope to share insights from the past, present, and future as I continue to ease the transition of this young man into an adult world. The only proven method I use is ages old -- I honor who he is and help him find people and places who do the same... square pegs fit nicely into soft putty that molds around them...and the push into plasticity is gentle.

Friday, April 6, 2012

Nathaniel on *Communication*

...when my ability to remember words is in the lowest 1%-ile and my ability to remember their definitions is in the top 1%-ile. Imagine the frustration of being able to write a poem in twenty minutes or only one sentence in twenty minutes, but mainstream education only cares about the sentence. (You'd think they'd take a break once in awhile!) How can I carry on most conversations when the movie you just mentioned has just replayed, in its entirely, in my head but I can't recall your last three words, or last three numbers you just told me, or the name of the movie, for that matter. How do I know that you are speaking to me when there is not rhythm or rhyme or music to cue me that the sounds I'm hearing are voice instead of cars, or planes, or a cat's purr -- all sound the same. All is loud. All is silent. I understand all. I understand nothing.

~NCM 2012~

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