Actors

I just finished watching a series that had an actor that played one of the most convincing, and chilling bad guys I've ever seen. Each scene he was in became a canvas for his acting skills to shine on. There's a big thing I learned though, and I wrote it in the last sentence... "acting skills".

When I finished the series, I looked up some interviews from crew and cast, and the baddie actor was interviewed. Watching it, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Gone were the smooth, seamless moves. Gone were the confidence and the aura of being in complete control. It was all replaced with a rather meek man who was... human.

I wish I would've understood this at a younger age. Perhaps anyone that watched this series would've come to the same conclusion of this man's confidence in life because he's an awesome actor. What he portrayed on the screen wasn't who he was at all (thank goodness, actually) but he was doing what the script said. How does this fit into my blog? It's because of all the actors and actresses out there... everyone.

Growing up, and even up until a few years ago, I was envious of what everyone else had. It seemed everyone had the confidence of that actor in that show. Everyone else seemed to glide through the day seamlessly and without effort while I would be uncomfortable in my own skin having no idea how my posture should look or what direction my arms and hands should have. Day-after-day of seeing everyone else's perfection takes a toll, but I do wish I could've seen a situation like that actor's interview earlier in my life because what one sees probably isn't 100% reality.

There are probably some people out there that do ooze confidence and are in complete control in every situation they're in, but not many. Most have doubts, fears, and trepidations but are great actors in concealing them. What is seen may not be reality. Most of the world had me convinced that I was so much lesser than who I actually am because of this imagined, acted world. How could I compete with perfection? What's the motivation to compete against perfection? 

The world had me sold. I believed the actors. It's not like this, however, and yes, those that don't have Asperger's may have faster processing when things go awry, but if I relayed how many neurotypical individuals mentioned the anxieties I mention in my presentation are emotions they have, well, if I tried to relay it, it would be months and months of blog posts.

 If you would've told me all this two decade ago, I'm not sure I'd have believed you. With that said, if at a presentation and this subject comes up, I'm not sure how to convey this fully to convince someone that the world isn't perfect and people project what they want the world to see. What's the saying? All the world's a stage? And from my interactions, there are millions and billions of award-winning actors out there that ooze the confidence I'm envious of, but the world is indeed a stage and they're concealing the fears I face head-on. 

The Fever Effect

My 2023 is off to a sickly start. I typically get a horrible sinus infection once a year and it’s now. The odd thing is that the fever I’ve been running has been giving the opposite effect of the blog post below. The blog below is from 2010, but with my increased heart rate now it has been like a faucet tap has been turned on increasing my level of worry/anxiety. It’s been a unique experience and I’m not sure if a decade removed has made a difference, or if this sinus infection has changed the rules of the fever.


I don't know how to start this entry as this statement may seem odd. For some people these experiences might be very difficult, but for me I look forward to them. These experiences would be the best in the world, if not for the headaches, body aches, and the sore throat. Those side effects aside, a fever is a welcomed event.

Why is something that is so harsh on a body a welcomed event? I think I can say that the only time I relax is during a fever. It's a very bizarre sensation as my mind's habit of overly thinking about everything slows down.

Things seem to make more sense when I have a fever. Perhaps this is because my body's energy is elsewhere and my mental focus isn't dwelling on anything.

When I was in school a fever was like winning the lottery as it meant I would not be going to school. Could this be why I feel better, now, with a fever? Much like a certain aroma may remind you of your grandmother's house, a fever reminds me of the freedom of not dealing with school for a day.

I'm not so sure this is simply based on the memories of avoiding school. There is certainly a change in the way I process information during a fever. I know I smile more often and my rigidness to any and all things decreases. It's a shame that the side effects come along with the fever!

So, I do have a question of you whether you are or aren't on the spectrum; What is a fever like for you? I know I had a friend, not on the spectrum, that got really mean and almost aggressive when he had a fever. I was always confused by this because I associate a fever with relaxation.

Finally, I should say when I say fever I am talking about the 99.5-101 range. Anything above 101 has been truly unpleasant and it speeds up my mind to an unwanted level. When I had my bout with MRSA and my fever was 105 I could not slow my mind down. The unfiltered emotions I felt were to an almost unbearable level and this was weird because my strength in my body was non-existent.

So, again, does a fever change the way your mind processes information, or am I the only one who has this seemingly odd characteristic?


PS, I have known this about myself for a long time, and first talked about it openly in 2005. I never thought anything of it, but after writing this I did a Google search of "fever" and "autism" and many media outlets (webmd, Time, ABC News) all have had stories such as, "Fever may improve behavior in kids with autism".

2023: The Year to Come

Welcome to 2023! The changing of the year always has brought about a sense of dread to me as, even from a young age, I knew it would never be the previous year ever again. 2022? It's done, never to be experienced again and whether I was 8 years old, or 39, there's something gravely terminal about it that saddens me. 

Speaking of 39... oh goodness! 2023 will be the year I turn 40. Midlife crisis? Probably not, but turning 30 was a trying experience a decade ago made more so by the 5th grader that, at a presentation, asked how old I was, and I responded that I had turned 30 last week and she said, "30? EWWWWW!" I took it in stride and told her that she should remember that day forever and when she turned 30, I would hope she would remember "EWWWWWW!"

Banter from students aside, the turning of 40 is, obviously, a major milestone. There's probably a mix of being human and a hint of autism in this mix as I've always heard of people dreading this milestone, so I have that but also the fact I will never have a 3 at the start of my age again. Ever. It's going to be a trying experience which is why I'm doing the "healthy" thing and running away for my birthday. Yes, for the second time in my life my birthday will be celebrated on the island of Réunion. I went there in 2016 as part of a blog project, which the week leading up to this year's trip I'll run a couple of the posts from back then to compare, that saw me travel to places pretty much ill-prepared to see if I could navigate new places where I knew no one and didn't know the language.

Once again in 2023, I'll be in the flagstand for the NTT INDYCAR Series, including flagging the 107th edition of the world's greatest race, the Indianapolis 500. I can't wait for the season to kick off in St. Pete and I look forward to sharing with you more stories from the road.

That's the stage set for the year. I can't wait to share the insights I have, the stories of hope, and the trip to the island should have more than enough writing material for a stellar blog or two, or ten. 

Here's to 2023! The year's begun, let's make it great!

Here’s to 2023

 It’s the end of the year. I want to thank all of you for following and reading this year and I’ve already been working on bringing you high quality posts next year. 

Happy new year to you, wherever you may be. 

L.A.D.

 My diagnosis of Asperger’s syndrome came at the age of 20. I had lived all those years knowing, or at least assuming, something was a little different in me, but I never knew why. Beginning in pre-school, my dad was always told that, "Aaron doesn't socialize too well with the other kids, but that's just because he's smarter than the other kids."

The teachers told me that as well so I never thought anything about why I didn't have friends in the truest of sense. "If I am smarter, why would I want them as friends?" is what my school aged mind thought.

As years went on I began to wonder why I was different. My social issues, and life long struggle with time (eight hours in school was too much for my mind) led me to be home schooled and I wound up not going to high school. I often wonder how big of a train wreck high school and I would have been, or would I have found my place? That question will never be answered.

With each year I became a bit more withdrawn. I had a girl friend (yesterday marked six years since I last saw her) but the relationship was getting frayed. I wanted a connection with other people, but knew I didn't have any. I was very confused because I heard people talk about that bond with others, but I had never experienced it and I knew that it wasn't just because I was smarter. If anything, I was feeling as if I had no intelligence because the only thing I wanted, the only thing was to feel that “something” that I saw other people feeling.

Slowly I drifted further from the world around me, and a line of events happened that alerted my dad to the possibility of Asperger’s syndrome. At the time I was immune to the name of autism because I was so withdrawn. On a cloudy, cold, and windy December day I was assessed.

Going into the assessment I wrote a long document that was essentially my life story in ten pages. I was hoping to avoid conversation with the assessor, but my efforts were in vain.

After the assessment and evaluation it was clear and I had a diagnosis of being on the autism spectrum. Autism? Spectrum? Being new to the world of the autism spectrum I had no idea what the word spectrum meant, and after I was told I had Asperger’s syndrome I went to the internet to see what, exactly, it was.

There were answers for sure, but I also had fears. All those years of not connecting now had a name. I wasn't 100% at fault, so in a way a burden was lifted from me. I had thought that I was simply unlikable. I had thought that I was either hideously ugly, rude, or mean and didn't know why.

Having the diagnosis though also led to a depression. Reading the prognosis and the difficulties of being on the spectrum made me believe that there was no hope. I got into the trap of thinking that, "Since I've had problems connecting with others, and because I have this label, why should I even try?"

That trap led to 15 months of pure unabated depression and self-loathing. My life after diagnosis was… My life? I didn't have a life. I was merely coasting wondering why this had to happen to me.

Eventually all that hatred manifested itself in my ability to write, and I was reminded of that yesterday when I realized that yesterday was the six year mark of the last time I saw my girl friend. After my diagnosis I tried to feel that bond. In my desperation I wanted to see if she cared about me, so my solution was to break up with her, on Christmas, via text message. In my mind she would simply call me and protest this and all would be fine. I was wrong.

After those 15 months and after I started to write I realized that I am unique, as we ALL are. Just because there are pages on the Internet that stated that I will never form those bonds doesn't mean I can't. I may feel them in a different way, but there is always hope!

The trap I fell into is a common one for parents of young children who are newly diagnosed. I went into a denial of sorts in my 15 months of agony, but for a parent, denial is a dangerous world. If Asperger’s syndrome would have been a diagnosis when I was in school (Asperger’s Syndrome entered the DSM in 1994) and I received therapy there is no telling how much progress I could have made. The earlier a child gets therapy the greater the possibility of them being freed from the chains of isolation. This isn't to say that it is ever too late, but the clock is ticking on making the monumental gains.

What I want everyone to know is that my L.A.D. (see title for this blog) was not a good one. Denial, depression, and self-hatred won't get a person far.

Remember though that my diagnosis was personal and I am not a parent and do not fully understand what it is like to hear that your child is on the spectrum. I can only imagine what it would be like. If I had been diagnosis earlier, I would have wanted my dad to do what he could, and not to panic (I don't like panic that much). Knowing what I know now, the autism spectrum is not the end of the world. The generalizations I read on the Internet shortly after my diagnosis scared me to no end. To think that I would never amount to anything and to never have friends was very painful.

Sure, I may have struggles, but I also have extreme joys. These may or may not be on the same page as the rest of the world, but I just wish it wouldn’t have taken 15 months to realize that my life was not over. Time is valuable and can never be returned, be it the agony of being on the spectrum, or the time of early intervention, time is valuable and the trap I fell into robbed me of it. There is hope, there can be happiness, but for that to happen those impacted by Autism, individuals and families, must get past the symptoms found on the Internet and see and experience the outcomes of treatment. Time is everything. Don't fall into this trap like I did.

The Case of the Stuffed Crust

 I am going way back in my life for this story, but this is a great example of rigid thinking and the complete inability to understand where someone else is coming from.

For this story I believe the time was summer of 1993. The pizza chain, Little Caesars, had just released the Stuffed Crust pizza unto the world. After being exposed to that once I felt all other pizzas were inferior. I mean, who wouldn't want more cheese on what usually is the most boring part of the pizza?

This was fine and good, except on one Friday evening when I was at a friend's house in the neighborhood I lived in. When told what was for dinner I got elated. "YES! Little Caesars!" I said out loud.

In my mind there was no doubt what the order would be. Because I get the toppings of pepperoni and mushroom so does everyone else. And because I thought the stuffed crust was the best thing ever invented we surely would be getting that as well.

When asked what toppings I wanted I stated my usual, and said, "and we are getting stuffed crust" and then just to make sure I didn't sound too overpowering I added a meek, "right?"

"Aaron," the parent said, "the stuffed crust is $1.75 more." This made no sense to me. The stuffed crust was the best thing on Earth that it would be worth it at $5.00 more.

I made some argument as to why pepperoni and mushroom with a stuffed crust was the best and only pizza worth getting (because it was) to the parent. I was told that he would take it under advisement and he drove off to go order/pickup the pizza.

30 minutes or so passed and when he returned I was so excited. Surely the only pizza worth eating would be in the box. The smell of the pizza quickly engulfed the house and much like a tense moment on the game show "Deal or No Deal" the case, ahem, the box was opened and I was shocked.

Not only was the crust flat, there was no mushrooms or pepperoni. The ultimate insult had been handed out as it was simple a cheese pizza.

I tried with all my might not to say anything and we took the pizza into the other room. My internal fuming grew and grew and eventually I asked, "Where's the pepperoni?" and I got the answer, "Well, my kids don't like it."

This answer made no sense to me because, seeing how I liked it, everyone must like. Even today when I go into a pizza place and see the list of 20 or so toppings I think, "Wow, what a waste of space on the menu seeing how no one will ever order those."

Going back to 1993 now, I tried to eat it, and I tried to understand, but I had to make one more comment, "What about the crust?"

"What about the crust" was like pushing your luck one inch too far because the parent became irate, slammed his beer down, and stormed out of the room.

I was in shock. What did I do? I merely was pointing out the fact that the pizza was inferior in my mind. I wasn't trying to be annoying or to say that he messed up, well, maybe I was a little, but I was just ten years old and I wanted a stuffed crust. There was no malice in my words and I was trying (and failing) to figure out why someone would simply want a cheese pizza.

I wonder how many times this story has been duplicated. in other lives. I ask and I ask and I have no idea that what I am asking is making the other person mad. It took me until after my diagnosis to replay this "Case of the Stuffed Crust" before I began to see that, perhaps, I said all the wrong things.

At the time of the incident I think I was clueless as to why he got mad. I was scared though and I want to make that point clear. I was scared because he got mad and I didn't understand why. It made no sense and for a while I became afraid to speak because I was afraid of duplicating the feat of making someone mad without knowledge. And to tell you the truth, I still carry that fear, although not as much, today.

Home… finally

The sun was rising in the air in all its radiance, but the shine didn't bring about the warmth one would expect. The earth was white with snow, lots and lots of snow, except on the road, which was now, and finally, clear. I didn't think it was ever going to happen, but I was now headed home.

What a blizzard it had been! Thursday into Friday I worked at digging the sidewalk in front of my mom's house clear so my mom's and sister's dogs could have somewhere to go outside. After that I turned my focus to my car which had snow drifts almost as tall as my car all around. On Saturday, after way too much effort, I got my car out and went to get a new snow shovel (I broke my mom's trying to dig) and some groceries. When I got back, disaster struck. Okay, disaster is a strong word, so let's call it a winter annoyance struck.

Parking when there's feet of snow around is a bit of a challenge. Backing up into a driveway is even more difficult as I was unable to back in the way I wanted to. I knew I didn't want to nose it in because I wanted to see where I was going when exiting, but as I attempted a three-point turn my car wouldn't go backwards... or forwards. I had found a small section of snow which had melted when I heated my car up and was now ice. I got out, looked under the car, got back in and tried the accelerator harder, which is not advisable, as I began digging a hole where my tires were. I was now truly stuck.

During the four days of snow, I caught cabin-fever. I had heard the term but had never experienced. The thought of being snowed-in when I was going to school was nothing short of a perfect dream, but now that same thought made my body feel like I was being squished and added a sense of needing to go somewhere, anywhere to feel like I were still alive.

The extra days were great in that I got to spend more time with my mom, but I couldn't turn off my brain that felt like the walls were closing in and the only way to be safe was to have the ability to go in any direction in a car. There was no place to go as the roads were still closed and the wind chills were lethal, but to not have the ability if desired to go was the issue.

On Monday, my mom contacted a person that had a piece of heavy equipment, and he came and began to dig the mountain of snow that had drifted in the backyard and driveway. It was a bit annoying to see the machine move a mountain of snow in the same amount of time it took me to get my coat, gloves, and boots on. 

After the snow had been moved, he tried getting my car out with digging, but he looked down at the divots my tires had made and realized he didn't have the right equipment. He went back home, got some strong salt, and within five minutes my car had been liberated once more.

I drove home yesterday. It was a freeing feeling driving down the road. Having the extra time with my mom and sister was excellent, but the anxiety I'm still feeling today of the sensation of being trapped is one I hope eases soon. I felt this feeling many times in my life, such as going to school and feeling trapped, that it's rekindled those types of feelings. Hopefully tomorrow I wake up with the sensation of freedom, of... oh wait, there's a winter storm warning for Saint Louis tomorrow. Winter started today, but can it be over?

The Blizzard of ‘22

There have been many times that I’ve been in a blizzard warning but the end results were anything but. There was always this notion that it would be fun, so long as the power stayed on, to go through the type of snowstorm you might’ve heard about from yesteryear. I’m here to say: it’s not fun!

It started snowing on Monday and each day has had snow. Tuesday into Wednesday was the heavy stuff, but each day has added to the snowfall. This trip out to my mom’s in Gordon, Nebraska was supposed to come to an end tomorrow, but now I’m not sure when I’ll get to leave. 

Last night I shoveled the front sidewalk out to the street and this morning I was dismayed to see my work undone between heavier than forecasted snow with the constant blowing snow. 

This was supposed to be… not this! In my mind I pictured a day of heavy snow but then life goes on. Currently, however, the western part of Nebraska is closed. All the roads from town to towns are closed for travel.

I probably sound a bit whiney but the underlying thing in play is that I can’t plan or predict what is next. Being on the autism spectrum can lead to a strong need to have prediction and to know what comes next, but it is impossible right now. I, along with many others out here, are at the mercy of the weather and the Nebraska Department of Transportation. So long as the wind keeps ripping the lands at 40+mph there will be no progress. Furthermore, a deep freeze begins Sunday with potential double digit negative temps. 

One person pointed out on Facebook that this guarantees more time with my mom and she is correct. It’s hard to enjoy it because I don’t know just how much time. If I knew that it will clear up on Tuesday then I’d be able to settle down and not have this constant anxiousness. For now, though, I’m relegated to looking out the window and seeing more white stuff fall from the sky. When will it end? Will it ever end? Those two questions will be what I remember most from the blizzard of ‘22. 

To the Teachers

 This is written to my 2nd and 4th grade teachers but really this could be applied to any teacher who has had a profound effect on any student autism spectrum or not...

Dear Mrs. Jendra and Mrs. Colvin,

As another school year comes to the halfway point, I, as I do every time this year now, think about the two of you. What you did for me was nothing short of extraordinary and here's the thing; you have no idea and probably never will.

Mrs. Jendra, you opened the door that got me out of only thinking about auto racing by using auto racing as a means to springboard into other topics. Your one question of, "Aaron, where is Silverstone?" got me to wonder about all the places Formula 1 visits each year which spawned my love of the world. While this may not seem like much to some, for me this opened my eyes that the world was greater than racing stats, or the barriers that enclose a race track because, prior to that question, that's all my world was. Did you mean to have this profound impact on me? Thinking back I think you did. Over the course of the school year you listened to my endless conversations about racing but then engaged me in math, and science. You really challenged me when I was bored and changed the way information was presented when I was struggling. It's amazing, really, that you did everything right despite the fact that Asperger's was still two years from officially being classified as a diagnosis. You had patience, and in the end you opened my eyes to a world of endless opportunities.

Mrs. Colvin, you too played an important part in my development. As with Mrs. Jendra you took an interest (or at least faked the interest) to what I had to say. Maybe it was that you noticed I didn't speak to too many of my peers, or maybe you really were interested, but whatever it may have been I gained confidence in speaking when you would ask me about a race, or the weather. Of all my teachers it was you who constantly said, "Aaron, are you sure you want to be a race car driver? I ask because you could be so much more like a meteorologist, or a doctor, or a lawyer." I laughed it off because a race car driver is the only thing I wanted to be and yet you saw the potential in me that I wouldn't realize until 2009! You also challenged me and kept me interested in what was being taught. Maybe it was that you used so many real world topics and examples to keep me interested, but whatever it was I was never bored in your classroom.

The truly life changing thing both of you did was something that I now close my presentations with. School was a challenge for me be it the length of time or the endless social interactions, and maybe you noticed the the challenges I had socializing, but both of you changed my life. If you remember, I loved academic games whether it was the flash cards or states and capitols (my favorite) but there was a problem in that, the game we would play where two kids would go head-to-head and whoever got it right would proceed to the next desk, well, the problem was no one else got to play. It wasn't that I was smarter than everyone else, it's just that both of those topics are my special interest (I now call it "Kansas") and I have extremely quick reflexes. In other grades I would not be allowed to play the game and would be given busy work to do. This busy work wasn't graded but I had to do it. This angered me but both of you thought outside the box and instead of banishing me you gave me the honor to host the game. Maybe you just wanted a break, but I think it was more and certainly more is what turned out.

I'm now a public speaker and have met many, many teachers like the two of you and each time I do I almost want to cry when they realize that a student in the distant past had Asperger's because here's the cruelest thing; you may never know what type of impact you had. So often people on the autism spectrum and their families get caught up in trying to fix everything right this second, but often times it is like planting seeds and you've got to give them time to grow. The two of you planted the seeds of public speaking and it took two decades to sprout, but here I am with over 500 presentations given and almost 50,000 people spoken to. This wouldn't have been possible without your planting of the seeds and when I see teachers that have the devotion, dedication, and compassion you did my heart is filled with such a high level of hope and joy.

I realize I must have been frustrating to work with at times and I often would question the reasoning or logic of your decisions, and I would be the first one to mention if we were one minute late for a subject transition, but you never once got angry with me. You both had patience beyond anyone else and this made me feel comfortable to learn in your classrooms. 

How do I close a letter like this? How do I say "thank you" in a way that is fitting to the two people that planted the seeds to give me the skills to become who I am? As I said, it is just cruel that you may never know, and since it's been so long and I can't find you on Facebook I don't even know if both of you are still alive. But maybe this cruel fact is what being a teacher is. It's like being a farmer with the possibility of never seeing the harvest. The only way I can show my thanks is to keep moving forward and to keep using my ability of public speaking to spread awareness and understanding and to present to teachers and let them know what you did for me because, somehow, both of you saw my potential. It's amazing what you did and I'm sad that you may never know what I've become because of you, but maybe that's the essence of being a teacher so all I can say, wherever you may be, is, "thank you."