To tell a joke

 

At a school presentation recently I was asked a question I could not answer. This is odd because I’ve wiggled myself out of some tough spots when questions have been a little off base, but this one? This one had me stumped.

I love presenting to student bodies as it is the most dynamic and intimidating audience to present to. To be an effective presenter at this level one has to have absolutely no shame in self-deprecating humor and to have a confidence which doesn’t appear to be confidence. It’s hard to explain, but this, whatever it is, allows for a dialogue to happen in the questions and the final question of this presentation was the one that had me stumped.

It had been going great as of the nearly 500 students I had more than several dozen hands up wanting to ask a question. The principal gave me the notice that it was final question time and this 8^th grader asked, “Yeah Aaron, you seem to be a hilarious guy and I was wondering if you could tell us a joke?” I froze, I stumbled, and I stared at him expressionless because I had no idea what to say and my brain was scrambling trying to tie a question a teacher had asked earlier.

Earlier in the presentation a question was asked about humor and if it’s possible that either A. a person on the autism can be funny or/and B. a person on the autism spectrum can understand or can give sarcasm? I gave a long answer to this essentially saying that, “if you’ve met one person with autism you’ve only met one person with autism” but I also mentioned that more and more actors are stating they are on the autism spectrum. I finished by saying humor often is a one-way street meaning I can state something and know that I meant it in a joking way but if someone I don’t know that well were to try the same thing it may not have the same effect. Bottom line is that expressive can be more than not better than receptive.

Okay, thinking about that wasn’t helping me answer this 8^th grader’s question. The question at hand was to tell a joke. How hard could it be? I mean, I do tell plenty of jokes during my presentation but here’s another thing about being a good presenter; if one is scripted one must make seem as if it isn’t scripted. I think I do a great job at this (a script is going to form naturally when one has presented as many times as I have) but all my witty lines are in response to a story. I can have the proper voice inflection to stress a funny moment, or to make something go from funny to hilarious, but to just tell a joke? Where does one begin?

It was the final question which usually means I need to give an answer quickly but I remained there, silent, staring at the crowd. Dead air isn’t a good thing but I had nothing and then I realized that nothing was the answer. I finally had my answer and I thanked him for thinking that I was hilarious, but I then pointed out that all my witty comments had been story based because those things actually happened. Now, when it comes to a traditional joke, it’s abstract to me. I can tell a story that has a potentially funny outcome depending on how one looks at it but when it comes to chickens crossing a road or any other joke setup line I don’t know any nor do I think I could learn that skill set. And besides that, as I finished that answer, I don’t find traditional jokes to be funny at all but then I once again mentioned that the next person on the autism spectrum may be an excellent joke teller but as for me, well, my humor will remain in the realm of dry wit and reality.

“Have a Good Life”

I received several hundred letters from the students of a school I presented at last month. One kid finished his letter with words that stopped me in my tracks and took me back several years. At this moment, I’m not sure if there’s anything more haunting than, “have a good life” so here’s the first time I blogged about that phrase…

There are moments in life that stand out over others. I know that's an obvious statement, but it seems, for me, that these moments are not the same as what others would have. 

Yesterday was a long day for me. I got home at 1AM Monday morning and just five hours later my dad and I were headed to the Washington D.C. Metro area to go to my aunt's for Thanksgiving. The weather of the drive was not good and once we hit central Kentucky it was rain all the way (I followed the system that gave the Supernats so much rain.)

All along I had it in my mind to stop at the Roy Rogers in Cumberland, MD. I ate there with the USAC staff on the way back from the race in Hagerstown and wanted to do so again. My dad had mentioned his first roast beef sandwich had actually been from a Roy Rogers. Anyway, we get there and before we ordered my dad struck up a conversation with someone that was eating. This person, I guess, was from the area (I came into the conversation a bit late) and was talking about the excess of accidents that were happening due to the poor weather. 

We ordered and sat down and the conversation continued on. The fact that there was this conversation was odd for me because I don't talk to people I don't know in a setting like this. And yet, watching it, created a flood of emotions. Who was this person? What was his story? I don't know if empathy is the right word, but I had so much wonder that it was overwhelming.

As we were almost done eating this man and his wife got up and started to leave. They talked about grabbing food for their "girls" at home and he started to say goodbye to my dad when my dad replied, "have a good life" and with that one singular line I lost it.

When the man and his wife left my dad turned back towards me and said, "Aaron, is something wrong? You look as if you're about to cry." and he was right; I was. There was so much stuff going through my mind that I couldn't control my emotions. This was such a difficult time because with that line the realization that this moment was lost to time and that this man who shared road conditions and showed a true caring on our well-being was gone. Will I see this person again? I knew the answer, statistically, was a resounding "no." 

I tried to refocus my mind but it wasn't possible. There were other moments in my life like this and the biggest one that comes to mind was when I was perhaps eight years old and so and we were driving back from my grandma's in Nebraska to home in Indianapolis and my dad was talking to this trucker on the CB radio. This conversation lasted for many, many miles and eventually one of us took a exit and goodbyes were said and I knew the finality of this moment and I didn't take it well.

Is this empathy? I truly wondered who this man was that was wishing us the best. Why couldn't I breathe? Was it too much emotions, or feelings? I had to do everything I could not to just break down and this was odd because 15 minutes prior I didn't even knew this man existed and now he was gone. Is this another reason I try to keep my world small? Because, if it is, then moments like this won't happen and moments like that are to the brink of being overwhelming. 

As for now, and today, the Thanksgiving traditions of the past 13 years will take place but my mind is still back in Cumberland at that Roy Rogers in the pouring rain with a bone piercing chilly wind. Who was that person? What type of life had he lived? So many questions but the answers will never be told.  

To the person that said “Aaron, you can’t have a bad day”

A long time ago, someone told me, that as a presenter and blogger, that I could not have a bad day. I, unfortunately, took this to heart. 

Here’s the thing, going back to the 40 things I wish I knew, it’s okay to have a bad day. To have anything less would be to not be human. Everyone has a bad day, everyone goes through slumps, and everyone will get scared at some point in time. When you add the autism spectrum on top of that, it makes it even more of a reality. 

The news of the past week leads a lot to the imagination without being able to make sense of what, exactly, is going on. Balloons, ufos… it’s all so… Hollywood. 

The past couple days I’ve struggled with this notion that I’m not allowed to be worried. It’s not a pleasant feeling both ways; to be worried AND think I’m not allowed to be. 

So, to the person that told me that, I hope you haven’t told anyone else this. I hope you haven’t disregarded another person’s emotions and made them question whether or not what they feel is valid or not. Those on the spectrum may already feel as if their emotions are invalid, but when someone blatantly says they should not feel that way.

Whatever the case may be now, with the mysterious things above, or whatever the worry in the future may be, no one should be told that they shouldn’t feel as that anxiety can be worse than the anxiety itself. 

40 Things I wish I knew...

 

Last week I turned 40 and on that day I thought, “wouldn’t it be great if I could tell my 10-year old self all the info I know now?” That led to thinking it would make a great blog so here we go, here are the 40 things I’d tell my younger self…

 

40. Don’t bite off more than you can chew: It’s easy to think that you can be Superman but committing to large things before thinking it through can lead to difficult projects. For example, coming up with 40 things right now.

39. It’s okay to be good at something: It can be difficult to be good, or exceptional, at something. It can truly be discouraging to feel isolated because something comes easily. However, you must understand that it’s okay to be good, and whatever topic, subject, or activity is something that you enjoy, and are good at, should be something to investigate if it could lead to a career.

38. It’s okay to be bad at something: If can be difficult to be painfully bad at something. You mustn’t allow this to become your identity though. As much as you’ll want, you won’t make a good hockey goalie and you won’t be the next gold medalist at the alpine downhill. Sports dreams aside, it can be bewildering that some things may come easily, and yet other things that come naturally to others will be a challenge.

37. Those normal people? They don’t have it all: You’re going to chase normal in the future. You’re even going to understand it, but you’re still going to do it. You’re going to chase what you perceive others have, but no one has it all. When you chase the myth of normal, you’re going to forget who you are and what makes you special, but as painful as these moments are, you will make it out the other side.

36. It’s okay to ask for help: Maybe I should tell my current self this as this is a challenge. However, wouldn’t it be better to ask for help now, than to make a mistake and have to fix it later?

35. Others may not know you need help: Why is it hard to ask for help? You don’t understand this now, but others don’t know what you need by pure chance. This leads us to #34.

34. You will understand the difficulty of “I think therefore you should know”: Later in life, you’ll say this is one of the five most important topics the world has to understand about autism, but for you it won’t come naturally. Just because you think something or know something doesn’t mean everyone else does. If something is bothering you and you don’t say something, the other person won’t know it even if you think they do.

33. It isn’t if you win or lose the game, it’s that you’re playing the game: Games are amazing, and at the age of 10, you’ll think winning is everything. You’re going to love the cutthroat ways of Monopoly and Risk, and there will be an extreme frustration when victory isn’t achieved, but eventually you’ll realize that the joy wasn’t in the victory, it was sharing a game and thought with other people.

32. It’s okay to be late: You’re going to struggle with this. You’re going to show up 30 minutes early to everything, but this may not be how others live, and that’s okay. You’re going to have two choices; worry about the timing of others and check the clock every 30 seconds, or accept that the world doesn’t have the fear of being late as you do and live with it. When smartphones are made, this will become easier.

31. Even when you’re right, you can be wrong: This is as involuntary of a reflex as breathing, but people will get annoyed when you correct them or facts they mess up. You may not be able to stop, but they too may not be able to stop with getting mad.

30. Real friends are blessing so stay in touch: If someone, “gets you” it’ll be good to stay in touch. It sucks to think, “whatever happened to…” 10 years after talking to them last.

29: Yes, people will get you: You’re going to spend many years wondering this, and at the darkest bits of night when you think this you’re going to think that it’s impossible. This is when #37 will come into play, and you’ll dream and chase normal, but as you get on the other side of this you’ll learn the importance of the next point.

28: Whatever is now is forever: This is joy, and it is pain. When things are good, they will feel as if they’ve always been, but when they are bad it will be inconceivable that they can ever be good again. Pro tip: things can always get better.

27: Whatever happens first always has to happen: You don’t fully understand it, but you’re going to live for routines. This statement, which will be a top 5 statement you’ll say everyone will need to know, is important for you to understand because if something that bothers you happens, and happens again, you may become mired to an unwanted routine. Know this, understand it, and when need be fight it.

26: You can’t please everyone: Others will think you’ll want to please everyone for the sake of it, but your true motive is that, if everyone is happy, you can avoid unwanted social situations. Those situations will arise, but you’ll survive.

25: People will know when you take shortcuts: In the future, when you make a list of 40 things, if you come up with, say, filler, people will notice, as they’re noticing right now.

24: Hide the phone on Christmas: Your intentions will be in the right place, but you’re going to be the only one who understands why you broke up with your girlfriend on Christmas via text message. Look, if they liked you before the text, they’re not after such a stunt is pulled.

23: A broken heart sucks: There’s no sugar coating this one, it hurts. You’re going to feel as if you’re the only one who has felt such pain, but you’re experiencing the same thing all “normal” people go through. It may feel like a dark tunnel that you’ll never escape, but I promise you there’s light at the end, and it may just be more glorious than you can imagine.

22: Others in the workplace may not have your best intention in their hearts: You’re going to be overly trusting, but the workplace can be akin to CBS’s Survivor game show. You won’t be able to comprehend why right isn’t right, and why others may do all they can to seemingly destroy what you have. One of the things that so many others life yourself have is a natural, naïve sense about them, and when others tear you down, you may never understand why they did it.

21: Forgive: It will be difficult, if not seemingly impossible to forgive others. With “whatever happens first” and “whatever is now is forever” will make any transgression against you feel like a world-shattering moment. Here’s the thing, after a couple years the other person may have totally forgotten what event it is that you’ve been carrying in your heart all this time.

20: Do what makes you happy: Job burnout will be a challenge. The thought of a 40-hour work week will be intimidating and will feel like it’s something you’ll never be able to endure, but when you end up working with the NTT INDYCAR Series, a 90-hour work week will be something you look forward to. Honest!

19: Embrace Kansas: You’ll someday write a book called Finding Kansas and you’ll describe Kansas as, “that one place where I feel normal.” That place will be a topic, or activity, that is what your brain thinks of at all hours of the day. Few people will ever experience the joy that you’ll experience when immersed in learning everything there is to know about a topic, or why you like something that may seem repetitive to them, but embrace it, love it, and cherish the times something kicks into a hyperKansas.

18: Cherish animals: You don’t fully understand it yet, but you and animals are going to have a special thing. You get them, they get you, and you will have a knack for “stealing” other people’s pets. Oh, and don’t let the time a German shepherd jumps over a fence and takes a few bites of your knees ruin that bond for too long.

17: You’re living life unfiltered, and it’s exhausting: You have no idea how others in school aren’t as exhausted as you at the end of the school day. They seem to have an infinite power source in their hearts whereas you are going to want to decompress at the end of the day. The reason this is, is that you’re processing everything around you and don’t know it. It takes more effort to pay attention to what you need to pay attention to.

16: There’s nothing more heart stopping than the words, “we need to talk…”: No matter how many times it’s proven that the end of the world doesn’t happen after this sentence, you will still fear it each and every time.

15: Don’t let the diagnosis define you, help define it: The worst day of your life will be when you’re diagnosed on the autism spectrum. It isn’t because of the stigma society may have, but rather you are going to read, “people on the autism spectrum will never have friends, will never have a job, and will never be happy.” So, some advice, don’t look up medical info on the internet in 2003. Oh, and you will have friends, some amazing friends, you will have jobs, perhaps one of the coolest jobs on the planet, and you most certainly capable of happiness and pure joy.

14: Beware the sensory episodes: Not everyone on the spectrum will have the reaction you do, but when the wrong sensory element is experienced by your brain, it will feel like hell. The first couple times you’re going to hide it from everyone, and this is just going to make it worse.

13: Learn how to live with operating under the system of being logical in an emotional world: Others may question if you even have emotions, but you do. Oh, how you do! But, amid events you may take a logical position and ask seemingly cold and callous questions. This system will lead to the Christmas cellphone incident, and try as you might, others just won’t understand.

12: Don’t be afraid of the world: There will be an incident at the bowling alley that will inspire you to write, “people are mean, people are awful, and they aren’t worth knowing.” Understand that others may be emotional in your logical world. As much as you try to be alone, some of your grandest moments will be because of the interactions with others.

11: Thank people: You’re going to come across others that open doors you never thought possible and see things in you that you never would’ve seen. Thank these people in the ways that you can because, after all, odds are you’re going to avoid the social interaction of saying it in persona and you may, right as you turn age 40, come up with a list and say you need to thank others and that “they know who they are.”

10: Learn from others: It will be in 2005 or 2006 that you’ll see Temple Grandin speak. This will change your life as you realize that you can be anything. Before that day, no matter who it was suggesting you read other people’s works and stories, you won’t because your heart is still dark from the belief that your life is predestined and not being happy is the only outcome. Try and learn from others and know that failure isn’t guaranteed even if you say it is.

9: Try and express yourself before your aged 22: One your blackest night, you will sit down at a computer and write. No one suggested it, no one asked for it, but you’re going to write your life story and explain yourself emotionally. Before that time, your family may have only thought that you experienced frustration, so try and show them the true scale of emotions before then, even if talking about emotions was, and still is, something you’ll try and avoid.

8: Learn how to cook: Eventually, there will be this amazing thing called DoorDash and you won’t have to do anything except click some buttons and food shows up at your door. However, it’s expensive and had I only learned how to cook and understand directions earlier, perhaps a whole lot of dollars could be saved.

7: Interact with people who have your same Kansas: You’re going to learn how to have a conversation in the oddest of places as in 2004, ToCA Race Drive 2 is going to be released for the Xbox, and you’re going to try and avoid talking, but you’ll learn that others playing a racing game enjoy racing as much as you. These skills will be gigantic later on.

6: You can’t change people: Other people have opinions, and you may think they are wrong, but it’s fruitless to go on a long, drawn out endeavor trying to change their minds.

5: Things won’t go how you’ve planned them: Right now, you have this idea of how life will work out, but it isn’t going to work out any way you thought it. This doesn’t mean it’s bad, so be prepared for that. We can end up where we need to be and be put on a pathway to get there without any knowledge that we were on that path all along.

4: Act like you already have the job you want: You wanted to win the Indianapolis 500, but you also want to flag the Indianapolis 500. From the first time you’re racing on a track, or flagging, be dedicated as if you’re already there. Don’t save your effort and await to give it your all at the Indy 500, instead give the effort as if you are already there. You may not think it, but passion and dedication are something other people pick up on quickly.

3: Don’t succumb to peer pressure: You may never figure out as to why others will try and change you, and there is something to be said about sound advice, but some will try and change you just for giggles. They may come off as your friends, but they may be anything but.

2: Joy to the world: When people have talked about me, I’m amazed at how much of a part I’ve played in other’s lives when I thought I was invisible. Just as you have a hard time expressing yourself, others too may not let you know just how much of a joy you are.

1: If you’ve met one person with autism… Your story is going to be unique. No one is going to have the same path or ride in life as you, but so too you won’t have others. Some are going to excel in art, and you are still carrying around the badge of shame of achieving an F in kindergarten art. Never think that another person on the spectrum should be you, or that you should be them. Drums will be the worst sensory thing you feel, and yet you’ll meet a mom that has three daughters and they are all drummers. It will be confusing, and after seeing Temple Grandin you won’t have heard of the sentence that, if you’ve met one person with autism you’ve only met one person with autism, but this will be the most important thing you’ll ever hear and it will help you carve out your own story, and your own destiny.

 

 

 

 

 

The Names of the Past

Jet lag has hit, and it’s hit hard. Getting up at 2AM and being unable to go back to sleep is the cost of international travel, and as I’ve been unable to sleep I’ve been going through my friend’s list on the Xbox and that spurred me on to look up people that weren’t on my friend’s list but I remember. 

It’s a rabbit hole, isn’t it? The people of the past, for me, creates a sense of dizziness that is simply overwhelming. What happened to them? This is a question I ask about someone that I remember racing on ToCA Race Driver 3 but haven’t talked to since 2005. It’s… it’s unique. 

I laugh when I think of the misnomer, “people with Asperger’s don’t care about others.” I do care. The amount of emotions this trek down memory lane has conjured up tells me I do. Would I say something vocal to someone? Oh, most certainly not, but the almost mourning I’ve done for people I’ve never met and were just a screename to me is, well, it’s emotional. 

Perhaps this is just the jet lag talking. I’d like to say so, but I know otherwise. I wish I would’ve done better at keeping track of the people I used to race with. The people that could be anyone and anywhere now. Maybe I have met some and didn’t know it, but it’s the infinite questions that spawn more questions that leaves a tired person wondering. 

Thoughts at 40

It’s 10:49 at night. I look out of the hotel window and reflect on the 12 hours of travel today. I’m in Paris for the night on my return trip home, and I turned 40 today. 

I have feared this day since I turned 30. It didn’t help that, a few days after turning 30, I presented at a school in Doniphan, Missouri and a sixth grader asked how old I was, and after I mentioned that I had just turned 30, she said, 30?! EWWWWW!” I wonder how she would’ve reacted to 40…

But yes, I have feared this number for ten years and its scope grew to something much larger than what it should’ve been. In my 20’s, my age was a reminder of everything I hadn’t done, and probably never would. That’s how I saw life. I didn’t see it as a life full of potential, but rather a constantly ticking time bomb to the next let down, the next tragedy, and the next opportunity unfulfilled. 

40 is a big year, but not in the way you think. This year will mark 20 years since I got diagnosed. This year will mark the passing of more years knowing that I’m on the spectrum than not. 

On the long flight today, I reflected on my life and just how fortunate I am. I’ve said this many times, but I wish you could go back and see me in 2005, right as I started my writing journey. I never thought I’d be capable of travel, and employment, and if you saw me then you might have thought the same. Somehow I made it through the pit of depression that happened at my diagnosis and somehow, others saw potential in me that I never thought possible. 

I no longer see 40 as a number to be feared. I’ve made it this far, I’ve been blessed with so many readers and attendees at presentations, and I have one of the coolest jobs on the planet as a starter for the NTT INDYCAR Series. The change from 30 to 40 has been immense and I’ve lived so many seemingly impossible dreams, so I can’t wait to see what I can achieve this next decade. I can’t wait to see what venues I present at, and what types of changes happen in society so that all on the spectrum can reach their full potential. And, most of all, that sixth grader from 10 years ago will be turning 30 in about eight years so I hope she thinks back to that February day in Missouri and, for a moment, says “EWWWWW!” as she thinks about her age. She too will realize, it ain’t so bad. 

Relocation Theory: a Thought

It was back in 2006 while flying towards Paris as I looked down at the lights of cities in Ireland. Like a sudden wave, I was flooded with this idea and wonderment on if I could “make it” down there. If I was transported down there, would I be able to navigate, communicate, and survive in a foreign land? As time went on and I evolved this thought I came to believe that the only real way I could expand my skill set was in this relocation example because I would need to delete all the existing routines I had to allow new ones, and new skills to develop. Today, though, I wondered if this was too shallow. 

Today, while being hit with waves in the Indian Ocean as I was snorkeling, I wondered why I had the ability to develop new skills in new areas. Was it simply the deletion of previous routines? As I say in my book, Finding Kansas, “firsts” are of the utmost importance and “whatever happens first must always happen.” This makes it quite crowded for new things to develop so, to supersede this, there must be a new environment. As I saw a school of Moorish Idol fish fight over a hiding spot in coral, I began to wonder if it isn’t the deletion of routine, but rather the deletion of fear. 

Yes, when I’m talking about firsts I so often talk about routine of day, or foods to order, but there’s also a menu of firsts on daily dangers. Has a certain pair of clothing shocked you repeatedly? Have you been burned by water that was too hot coming out of the tap? Have you ever fallen on black ice? If you said yes to any of these you check twice for ice, you barely touch the water before you commit to putting your hands on it, and in terms of static, well, hopefully it isn’t too shocking, but in all of these examples you have this fear that’s attempting to protect you. So too, does my body do this with social situations. 

In a foreign land I am unaware of the social barometer. I’ve always been a barometer of the room and if tensions were going up, say in school, the upping pressure would drag me down and I’d be fearful for whatever outburst was coming up next. It’s odd, isn’t it? The fact that I’m poor at reading facial expressions but the ability to be a barometer for the tension in the room. It’s true though, the dragging down impacts all of my body’s ability to process. Here, in Réunion, this doesn’t exist. However, as the sun beat down on my back and already sunburned legs today as I pondered the dangers of a stonefish, I wondered if this could last. 

If I were in any place long enough, wouldn’t logic dictate I’d eventually have an ice experience (maybe not here in a literal sense) or too hot of water? Eventually, I would learn some French words if I stayed here forever, and I’d learn the difference between French spoken in a conversational manner and French spoken in an angry tone. If this is accurate, then eventually every place would have the same fears. However, and I don’t have the answer to this, would the personal gains made when traveling somewhere new outlast the new fears that take over? Is it truly the relocation that creates the growth I’ve experienced, or is it a naivety to the same social stressors that exist anywhere but simply can’t be processed or understood due to language and cultural differences? It’s an interesting notion, one I hope to dwell on and come up with more answers down the road. 

A Most Engaging Story on a Volcano

"Aaron!" my girlfriend Kristen yelled, "There's a cockroach in there!" Indeed, there was, a bigger one than what I've seen back home in the states, but I'm on the island of Reunion and they seem to be larger. This wasn't how I wanted this day to start. This was going to be THE DAY and starting it with a creepy crawler wasn't how I envisioned this day to begin.

It wasn't first light yet, and we had a two-hour drive ahead of us on our way to Piton de la Fournaise. This island isn't well known in most of the world, and if you have heard of it, it's either because you've heard of this most active volcano, or perhaps the most shark infested waters in the world, or this is also where the aileron from MH370 washed ashore. This island is remote, and as our drive down the N1 progressed I thought back to the third e-mail I exchanged with Kristen in which she asked me where I'd travel if I could go anywhere. I mentioned this island and she, like most, had never heard of it and I said that exact same description to her about volcanoes and sharks. Somehow though, she was seated right beside me as the sun was now up in the East.

The drive to the volcano seemed to encompass four different climates. One minute it's a tropical shore, then we were in a rainforest, and as we neared the volcano, you'd have sworn you woke up on Mars. Between the moments of awe, I knew what I wanted to do today... would she say yes?

As we pulled into the park that has the volcano, I smiled back to our fourth e-mail on Match.com when she asked, "Are you doing anything fun this weekend?" I was, perhaps, a bit smug when I said, "I think so, you can watch what I'm doing this weekend on NBC." What else could I say? It was June 2021, and I was in Detroit for the NTT INDYCAR Series race there. It was going to come up at some point in time, that and she also was wondering why I had a selfie with Milo Ventimiglia on my profile so I answered both when she asked, "NBC"? 

Surprisingly, she watched both races that weekend and that certainly caught my attention. She had said she hadn't watched motorsports in the past, but now here was someone that was returning my emails,
loved to travel, and watched two INDYCAR races in one weekend... as intrigued as she was with my selfie with Milo, I was doubly intrigued by her.

I attempted this hike seven years ago and it was ill-fated. It was foggy, rainy, and had I continued onward when I abandoned it, I'd probably have ended up dead. So, could there be a better way to ask the ultimate question than here? Maybe, but I've never done anything traditional.

The start of the hike is hell. It's 560 steps down and none of the steps are the same height. It's 700ft downward of switchbacks, loose handrails, and uneven surfaces. I couldn't erase the thought that the cockroach was somehow a harbinger of the disaster that could come later and that the cockroach could, quite possibly, be the highlight of the day with everything else going downhill.

We survived the stairs and in front of us was the Formica Leo. This was a smaller volcano that has been dormant since the 18th century. There were dozens of people climbing on it and it was here that we made the mistake and went right instead of left. We didn't know it at the time, but this wrong turn added 1.61 miles to our day and about an extra kilometer of elevation we didn't need to do. 

As we rejoined the path and discovered our error, I quickly thought that this was such a perfect metaphor for our lives. I didn't know if I'd have the nerve to pop the question at the summit, but this was churning my thoughts on how to ask and utilizing the fact that, in life, we may end up on roads that we didn't intend to be on, but eventually we will end up exactly where we need to be. 

I couldn't believe, when we were emailing back and forth back in June of 2021, that she was going to wait to meet me. After Detroit, there was a race at Road America, then I had a USAC .25 race in Toledo

(almost got hit in the flag stand... imagine that) followed up by another INDYCAR race at Mid-Ohio. It would have to be a month, but she waited and all we had were emails followed up by texts and one phone call. I don't like talking on the phone, she respected that, and I couldn't wait to get home to meet this Kristen I had been chatting with for a month.

The weather turned. It became foggy, rainy, and the term "Middle-Earth" would've applied quite easily. Walking on the side of a volcano, if you haven't, is surreal. It doesn't seem real and as the rain came pelting down, the volcanic rock maintained a high level of grip. Had there been any slick spots, I'd probably have fallen, but then, behind me, I heard some loose gravel, and I looked back and saw Kristen slide, but she made a great catch to prevent from falling. Oh cockroach, don't be the best part of the day.

It was about then I had my first bit of doubt on this grand idea. Who proposes on top of a volcano? Who attempts such a hike when neither of us truly were prepared for just how daunting of a hike this was with these awful conditions? From the first time I mentioned it on Match, to meeting in person, Kristen has fully accepted me as me and has never once questioned any quirky behavior the autism spectrum plays out in myself. Never. Not once. I thought that maybe proposing on a volcano would add to the uniqueness and besides, we had just been in Paris and that's just way to cliche for me. A volcano would make a much cooler story. However, this hike was getting dangerous and all of a sudden it got real.

Kristen's foot got hung up as she tried to make a step down. Even ground simply doesn't exist on the latter half of the hike, or rather the whole hike, but this hang up caused her to fall. She did great preventing a faceplant into rocks, but instead she got her hands and shin. Her palms were scraped, and her shin started to bleed. At about the same moment the rain picked up and visibility dropped, and it felt like my ill-fated 2016 expedition which, I was sure I was going to die because it was at least two-hours back to the stairs we had descended and if it is hell going down, what would you call the same except going up after such a strenuous hike? The level of concern grew. 

When people fall in my presence, I don't usually know what to do. The other person can be hurt and yet they're the one comforting me... awful, I know, but in this instance, I asked for tissue to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. It wasn't bad, and after a minute the bleeding stopped, and now it was decision time. 

"Should we head back?" I asked. Just then another group passed us headed back and Kristen asked, "Are we close?" and the wife turned to the husband, speaking French, and the husband looked at us with a bit of disgust (maybe he thought we were ill-prepared? If he had, he would be correct) and he said, "for you two? At least an hour!" It was now 1PM, and we had been hiking since 7:55AM. We had already heard other people give us wrong times so if this hour turned into three hours, we might not make it back to the car in daylight. This was serious, it was dangerous, and again I asked, "should we go back?"

In one of our earlier emails, I talked about my regret on not seeing the summit. I felt as if I had come up short on a goal I had and I don't set many goals. She knew this, and despite bloody wrists, and an awful looking shin, she said we would continue onward. She didn't respond in question form. It was factual, with confidence, and with unwavering resolve. It was a no-brainer now. This day was exactly a metaphor for our lives. Her confidence in life, and in me, has been about as foreign of an experience as being 10,000 miles away from home.  

There was a signpost up ahead, it said summit in 20 minutes. It lied. The whole hike seemed to be false hope after false hope. "That's gotta be it!" was mentioned by both of us at least a dozen times. The times on the posts lied as well. However, we kept getting baited by thinking the next crest would be the destination, but we'd be met with another valley and more white dots.

On the ground every meter or so are painted white dots. They mark the path, or suggested path, as the fog and rain can get so bad that a meter is all you can see. For us, the visibility got down to maybe 50 feet, but we kept going, and we finally saw a new sign, this one mentioning that there's burning and unstable cracks below the path so we'd be best advised to stay on the path. Surely that meant we were close, right?

The clouds started to part as we made another climb and then, up ahead there was a new sign and then... nothing! The summit. I stopped as Kristen was 20 feet behind. I didn't want to see the glory of the crater by myself. This journey since the first emails we exchanged had been us, together, and I was going to make sure we made the final push together.

It was unbelievable! The silence at the top is unexplainable unless
you've been somewhere so vast and marked by nature's savage fury and heard the silence. It was still. The clouds were above, behind, left, and right of us but the view of the crater, which caved in in 2007, was unobstructed, and it was hard to process what was being seen. Also, the ring box in my pocket felt like a five-ton anvil. It needed to see the light of day, and I had been thinking about what I was going to do, so as Kristen ventured to the left to look, I told her I wanted to do a video blog and she should stand in front of me looking off to the horizon. The rest, I think, is best to let my real voice and her expression do the talking, and thank goodness that cockroach wasn't an omen and we somehow made it back with no water left and just an ounce of daylight left.

The Normal Pain in a Foreign Land

An hour prior I had been staring at the Indian Ocean, and

 I had a sensation that I find rare and that’s a feeling of serenity. Typically, I’m over analyzing every aspect of life and a sheer moment of peace is hard to find. The usual processing of “what I’ll be doing in 10 minutes, 20 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour, two hours… 10 minutes…” is repetitive and exhausting. My brain is always thinking, always analyzing, always exerting more effort in absorbing my surroundings than is anywhere near necessary, except here on Réunion. However, that sense of tranquility was smashed, burned, and obliterated by the all too common pointing out of an autistic trait I have. 

We had come in from the beach, and I had spent about 45 minutes out in the lagoon. Life was good. I told my girlfriend that, “I could cry I feel so relaxed.” Anyone that knows me knows “relaxed” is a word I don’t use to describe myself. Ever. Anyway, we got back into our AirBNB rental and the owner of the place stopped in for some papers to be signed. 

My girlfriend had been chatting with him for maybe five minutes while I was finishing up getting cleaned up. I eventually joined the conversation and he was as nice as could be. For saying he didn’t speak English well, he spoke English rather well and the words he did know he spoke without any issues at all. Communication was a two way street, and he showed up places we should visit and tips on driving. It was a flurry of information and as my girlfriend asked questions I did my normal, “stand there and listen” technique. 

I’m not good speaking in a group. I never have been. One-on-one I’m great, and speaking as a public speaker is far too easy for me, but put me in a setting where it’s one-on-one-plus-one and I will give one word, or shorter answers. It’s simply too much processing, and my attempted timing is akin to trying to square dance to a 1830’s waltz. 

A few more minutes in the conversation went by and the owner, perhaps jokingly, looked at me and said, “you don’t talk much, do you?” My paradise, was just crushed. 

If you’ve never had something pointed out that you wish you could do but you do poorly, I envy you and you might not be able to relate. I know I’m quiet, or as he put, “in French we say ‘you timid’”. I know I struggle, but I try. To have it noticed, and thrown into my face, even in a joking tone, makes me not want to try. Why should I try? This is the second time this month a person made such comments, previous one was back home in Saint Louis, so no matter where I go I’m in line for a crushing dose of reality. 

It’s hard to rebound from this. The event took place 26 hours ago and I’m just now to the point of going from the numbness of an event like that to feeling the emotions. It’s not a fun ride. 

Society has a long ways to go in understanding the invisible wall that Asperger’s creates. I wish I could be vocal, and engaging in a group, but that simply, most of the time, isn’t possible with my brain. I do have great talents, I know this, but the weaknesses too are great and when they’re blatantly mentioned and noticed, well, it makes me forget who I really am. 

I’ve never let a social snafu like this being me all the way down, and I’m trying to fend it off now. It does however show that whether at home, or 10,000 miles from home, there is no running away from who one is. I hope I can get back to that feeling of serenity, but I also know that my timidness will be noticed in any language on any land. Perhaps I was foolish to think otherwise.