This Post Has Nothing to Do With Baseball

I appreciate the intentions of a lot of the ~autism positivity~ stuff I see online that’s like “Autistics are just like everyone else! Don’t treat us any differently!” but at the same time… We’re not like everyone else. Don’t treat us like we’re subhuman, but some of us do have specialized needs and requirements. Some of us do need different treatment, extra attention or more assistance, and so on.

Random Keanu Reeves pic.
Random Keanu Reeves pic.

Treat us like the individuals we are and not a giant Autistic Monolith, I guess is what I’m saying? I just get frustrated sometimes by the types of posts I see on tumblr about autism/autistic people.

I don’t want to be treated like a neurotypical person. I’m not neurotypical! I just want my disorder to be respected? To not be brushed away, even if it’s by well-meaning people? To not be handwaved?

I’m autistic, and sometimes it’s frustrating. Sometimes I don’t like it. Sometimes I even wonder what it would like to be (so-called) “normal.” I don’t want to be neurotypical. Sometimes, though, I just want to tell myself, “There are some things you can’t do because your brain doesn’t process things in a way that would allow you to do them. That’s okay. You’re not giving in to weakness or giving up by acknowledging that.”

[shakes fist]
[shakes fist]

I can’t drive, I have difficulty remembering to do basic things like eat, shower, brush my teeth, etc. sometimes, I can’t handle talking on the phone because I can’t see people’s faces or body language, and it’s very unlikely I’ll ever get to live on my own. But a lot of the autism positivity stuff I see is like “You can do all these things neurotypicals do if you want to! You just have to believe in yourself!” or something, and it’s like, the belief and desire aren’t the problem here.

The kind of autism positivity I’d personally like to see more of is like…

“It’s okay you shut down after that person you don’t know very well touched you! You’re not broken for that!”

“So you had a meltdown when your mom took away the object you were stimming with! You’re not broken or weird!”

“Making your own meals can be really hard and stressful sometimes! It’s okay that you got overwhelmed and started to cry! You’re okay!”

“You may never live on your own or drive a car! That doesn’t make you lesser-than or weak or broken!”

I have limitations because of my autism! I guess I just want that to be acknowledged sometimes, and for it to be okay to admit that.

2012 MLB Draft All-Name Team

1B: Correlle Prime
SS: John Bushyhead
2B: Joe Sever
3B: Zarley Zalewski

OF: Mallex Smith
OF: Skye Bolt
OF: Torsten Boss

C: Austin Chubb

BENCH:
Spencer Kieboom
Douglas Crumlich
Jamodrick McGruder
Sly Edwards

RHP: Zebulon Sneed
RHP: Storm Throne
RHP: Brock Dykxhoorn
RHP: Buck Farmer
LHP: Max Foody
RHP: Kieran Lovegrove
RHP: Lance Breedlove
LHP: Austin Thrailkill
RHP: Damien Magnifico
RHP: Walker Weickel
LHP: Michael Heesch
LHP: Fernando Fernandez-Beltran

Honorable mentions: Anthony Bemboom, Beau Maggi, D.J. Driggers, Rustin Sveum, Justin Chigbogu

If Rachel Gibson Can Do It, I Can Too!

I have in my possession a cache of novels by a romance author named Rachel Gibson. Her works mainly deal with a group of players for a fictional NHL team called the Seattle Chinooks. The writing is pretty terrible, as evidenced by this winning passage:

If not for a leg cramp, Chelsea would have had sex with Mark. Right there on top of the granite island. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind about that. He hadn’t been the only one to lose his mind that afternoon in his kitchen. And just like there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she would have done him, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that it would have been good.

Real good.

Scream at the top of her lungs, rock the gates of heaven, and beg him not to stop, good.

Nothing But Trouble, pg. 260

The main male characters are always rugged and manly, and have a dark past. The female characters are always perky, sexy and unable to resist the main male characters. Which I guess is the point.

The male and female leads hook up after pages and pages of will-they/won’t-they, and vow to have no-strings-attached sex. Of course, they fall in love because the sex is just so awesome or whatever. (In one of the books, the female lead was hired to be the main male’s caretaker. I guess caretaking includes taking care of the male lead’s penis. Who knew?)

Gibson also has this habit of namedropping real hockey players into her novels for . . . I don’t even know. A sense of verisimilitude? Usually, it comes off as completely random, like the Sidney Crosby mention she snuck into True Love and Other Disasters. It went something like Sid the Kid was 22 with a 13-year-old’s beard. The hunky male lead then called him “Cindy”. Brilliant writing there.

To be fair, though, she’s not as bad as Danielle Steele, whose books read more like summaries or story outlines than proper novels. Ahem.

Anyway. I got to thinking . . . I have some writing skill. What if I applied Rachel Gibson’s never-fail instabestseller formula to baseball? Who doesn’t want to read about a baseball player hooking up with a perky, adorable, sexy female character?

But instead of merely namedropping professional baseball players, why not make them the hunky male leads? HA HA, RACHEL GIBSON. I ONEUPPED YOU THERE.

Without further ado . . . I don’t even know what to call this.

Rated D for D-U-M-B. Do not read if you have a history of heart problems or a tenuous grasp on your sanity. This will shatter your soul.

Also, bad semi-porn.

Continue reading

rare non-baseball related post

Don’t get used to this, all one of you who reads this blog.

I went to bed during the first intermission with a feeling of slight trepidation, and when I woke up around five or six in the morning, I checked the score to see if they won. They didn’t, of course, and I wasn’t surprised. I don’t know if they collapsed like a house of cards or if they clawed and fought ’til the end. I guess in the end it doesn’t matter, because they lost anyway.

This isn’t the worst thing, though. It was going to be nearly impossible for them to dig themselves out of that 0-3 hole. The team we all knew they could be finally showed up in Game 4, but it wasn’t enough. The Sharks were just a bit better. Now they get to rest their weary, battered bodies for five months or so, bodies that haven’t really had much time to rest since the ’06 playoffs, if they’ve been around long enough.

This has been a strange season for me, for a few reasons. I think, though, that I appreciate this team a little more than the team in ’09 that went to the Cup Finals and came so close to winning it all. This team had to work so hard just to get in and then improve their spot in the playoffs. They had to work so hard to get through Phoenix, which I think did take a lot out of them whether anyone wants to admit it or not.

I am proud of them. ’09 was such a disappointment for me for a multitude of reasons. I’d been pinning so much on the Wings that summer, to just lift me, my family out of some dark times for a little bit and when it didn’t happen, it was so crushing. The Wings losing felt almost like the team let us down.

I can remember being too drained to cry last year – even though I really wanted to – when the final buzzer sounded and the Penguins celebrated on our home ice. I remember watching Chris Osgood looking for all the world like a kicked puppy and wanting to cry and being unable to. I thought the only way it could get worse is if they didn’t even make it that far the next year.

I was wrong. This was an ultimately satisfying season for me, even if Lidström isn’t going to hoist the Cup over his head this June. It reaffirmed my love of the team after I thought it had been irreparably broken by the disappointment of ’09. We also learned a lot about this team, most importantly who our “goalie of the future today!™” is.

I think my grandfather would have been proud of this year’s team. There’s nothing he appreciated more than fighting through adversity.

Thanks, Red Wings. And congrats, Sharks. Good luck against Chicago (*spits*) or Vancouver.