I had no idea there was a blog page. I've been on this website for nearly 3 months and I had no idea there was this thing.
I suppose I might as well do something with it, then.
This blog will most likely not be updated regularly, since my internet access is limited (I can only be on it while supervised, per parole). On top of that, I really don't do anything, except breathe, consistently (actually, I have sleep apnea, so I don't even do that regularly, either).
I don't know how to do this blog thingy, so I guess I'll just start out by saying I have know idea how to do this blog thingy: "I have no idea how to do this blog thingy."
There. I said it.
I dunno, I guess I'll just go over my week.
My parole officer told me, "People with Asperger's (funny how the spell check doesn't recognize that word) have an easier time meeting people in online dating sites. Thus she told the person only allowed to be on the internet while supervised. I swear, the lady's IQ has to be lower than 100.
My therapist told me that if I wanted to meet someone, she could help me. I told her 'no,' but it's a group therapy deal, not a one-on-one type, (and I'm the only Aspie in the group) so it was awkward to begin with. What's funny, is her name tag says 'therapist' but there's just enough space in between the 'e' and 'r' that it looks like The rapist.
Got my hair cut earlier this week. I hate it, but at least the guy did a good job. I usually end up looking like my head is a mushroom (no innuendo intended, but still is appreciated). I wouldn't get a haircut at all, but my grandparents are Conservative Holiness Pentecostals (my grandpa used to be a preacher), and believe that men should have short hair, and that if they don't they are sinners going to hell. Even though, the Bible says that it is a SHAME for a man to have long hair, not a SIN. There's a difference.
But I figured, since I'm living with them, I might as well give them this minor compromise. Out of respect. Besides my grandpa has cancer bad. And I don't deal with conflict well, so I go out of my way to avoid it. Except when I was locked up. It added some variety to the very very very very very mundane and repetitive life that goes on there.
Being on parole sucks when you want to go to school, or get a job, or a girlfriend, or a life. Texas was worse than Indiana though.
When you're on Texas parole, they (parole officers) will tell you "You need to socialize. Get out some. Go on some dates. etc... Just as long as you don't do it between 12 in the morning and 12 at night." and the ever lovely "If you open you window after night falls, you're violated." or "You're non-rechargeable ankle bracelet's battery went out. You're violated."
Indiana parole says "Why are you on adult parole? You committed your crime when you were 12." and "You don't need an ankle bracelet. You're crime wasn't as serious as most." but then they give me an officer that is probably about as smart as Ozzy Osbourne is now. Not to mention that she has a bad combination of a ghetto accent with a lisp. I have a hard enough time understanding people that speak normally. I can't hear people unless I have my glasses on, because half of what I hear is what I see, and if the sounds don't match up with the mouth, then I just let them talk and pretend I know what they're saying. But she smiles and laughs a lot, so I guess she's probably a nice person.
That's about it for today. Back to job searches. Yuck.
I suppose I might as well do something with it, then.
This blog will most likely not be updated regularly, since my internet access is limited (I can only be on it while supervised, per parole). On top of that, I really don't do anything, except breathe, consistently (actually, I have sleep apnea, so I don't even do that regularly, either).
I don't know how to do this blog thingy, so I guess I'll just start out by saying I have know idea how to do this blog thingy: "I have no idea how to do this blog thingy."
There. I said it.
I dunno, I guess I'll just go over my week.
My parole officer told me, "People with Asperger's (funny how the spell check doesn't recognize that word) have an easier time meeting people in online dating sites. Thus she told the person only allowed to be on the internet while supervised. I swear, the lady's IQ has to be lower than 100.
My therapist told me that if I wanted to meet someone, she could help me. I told her 'no,' but it's a group therapy deal, not a one-on-one type, (and I'm the only Aspie in the group) so it was awkward to begin with. What's funny, is her name tag says 'therapist' but there's just enough space in between the 'e' and 'r' that it looks like The rapist.
Got my hair cut earlier this week. I hate it, but at least the guy did a good job. I usually end up looking like my head is a mushroom (no innuendo intended, but still is appreciated). I wouldn't get a haircut at all, but my grandparents are Conservative Holiness Pentecostals (my grandpa used to be a preacher), and believe that men should have short hair, and that if they don't they are sinners going to hell. Even though, the Bible says that it is a SHAME for a man to have long hair, not a SIN. There's a difference.
But I figured, since I'm living with them, I might as well give them this minor compromise. Out of respect. Besides my grandpa has cancer bad. And I don't deal with conflict well, so I go out of my way to avoid it. Except when I was locked up. It added some variety to the very very very very very mundane and repetitive life that goes on there.
Being on parole sucks when you want to go to school, or get a job, or a girlfriend, or a life. Texas was worse than Indiana though.
When you're on Texas parole, they (parole officers) will tell you "You need to socialize. Get out some. Go on some dates. etc... Just as long as you don't do it between 12 in the morning and 12 at night." and the ever lovely "If you open you window after night falls, you're violated." or "You're non-rechargeable ankle bracelet's battery went out. You're violated."
Indiana parole says "Why are you on adult parole? You committed your crime when you were 12." and "You don't need an ankle bracelet. You're crime wasn't as serious as most." but then they give me an officer that is probably about as smart as Ozzy Osbourne is now. Not to mention that she has a bad combination of a ghetto accent with a lisp. I have a hard enough time understanding people that speak normally. I can't hear people unless I have my glasses on, because half of what I hear is what I see, and if the sounds don't match up with the mouth, then I just let them talk and pretend I know what they're saying. But she smiles and laughs a lot, so I guess she's probably a nice person.
That's about it for today. Back to job searches. Yuck.
