The Lever Dilemma

I suppose it could happen to anyone. It’s unlikely, but not impossible. Anyone could happen by a lever by chance. Some people are more likely to than others, naturally, but it could happen.

In natural existence, I generally recommend not pulling the lever. If you don’t know what it does, at least. Even if you do know, there might be repercussions if you are not in ownership of the lever, or if you haven’t obtained permission to change the geotemporal location of most of the lever.

If it is your lever and you know what it does and you intend for it to do what it is meant to do, by all means, pull it whenever you wish.

But that’s not the sort of lever that I happened upon in this tale. I don’t really know who the rightful owner of the Lever was. I might be able to research the name, but I don’t think it really matters. The important factor regarding this lever is not its owner or even really its purpose. The important bit about this lever is whether or not I should have pulled it. I still don’t know.

It was the sort of lever that one doesn’t normally have access to. It was located in the middle of a crowded boulevard, but surrounded by a chunky iron and wire fence and elevated above the average person’s eye level by a set of 8 steep metal stairs. The stairs were the sort with little spikes surrounding gaping holes in the mesh so as to prevent slipping of a utility worker in inclement weather. I’d walked past it many times, but had never been tempted to ascend the stairs and so much as touch the handle. That day was different, of course.

It was the first really fair day in spring, and the streets were stuffed on that Sunday afternoon with cheerful running children, peppy horses pulling carriages, dapper fellows tossing melting slush balls, and grinning ladies testing out their spring jackets. I suppose there were other people too, but the sort that I remember best were the grim police officers, some on foot, and some on staunch horses, all shouting gruffly to make way as somewhere there had been a bit of tomfoolery and suspicious activity. I can’t really blame them though for my curiosity and hesitance to be crushed by the throng of prospective spectators. Besides, I wasn’t the only one to climb those crusty steps that day to get a view of the new trolley car. I was simply the only one there at the wrong time. Or perhaps it was the right time, depending on how you look at it.

Perhaps one could say that I actually saved a life rather than that I killed those people. It doesn’t really matter though. One way or the other, someone most likely would have died at the expense of someone else. And no matter which it was, I would have felt at fault.

Helpful Language Links

I've decided to go out of my way to publish something actually useful here. Unless you have no intention of ever speaking French. Moi, je parle français. I'm sometimes a French teacher. So I've compiled a list of the sites that I use the most when teaching and practicing my own French.

Tex's French Grammar
If you find yourself wanting to study French grammar, or if you're struggling to figure out how to conjugate, or if you're not really sure what conjugate even means, the best site in the world is Tex's French Grammar. There are awesome explanations of all those confusing grammar concepts and a helpful practice tool for conjugating verbs. Plus you get to read all about le conte epique romantique of Tex and Tami and their scheming amis.

Conjuguemos
Another helpful tool for French conjugation is conjuguemos, which is stuffed full of interactive games, graded verb drills, and of course, helpful hints on how to conjugate French verbs. Recent updates require learners to create an admin account with limited activities for free, but it's still a fun way to enjoy practicing conjugation.

Word Reference
Who doesn't know about Word reference? If you don't, you should! This is basically the ultimate online French dictionary with millions of references for words and phrases. I constantly use word reference while doing translations because it has great examples of word usage and everything a French student could want.

Alt Codes
First, for writing, you'll need some accent marks. You can write them with either 4-key alt-codes, or 3-key alt codes. Or another way that I never use because I have most of the 3-key memorized.The following website lists all the Alt Key Codes you could possibly want :)

Pronunciation
If you're ever struggling to remember how to pronounce a French word or phrase, try typing it into Oddcast's free text to speech. Native French speaker approved! If this link fails, you can also search for words at forvo.com. Forvo is like a dictionary, so you might not be able to listen to whole sentences, but there is a vast collection of words with pronunciation and definitions.

Polly Lingual

Games and vocabulary are put together in Polly Lingual, which includes a number of free beginner activities and reasonably priced lessons for more advanced learners. The activities give you a short lesson on how to use various vocabulary words and you can pick from several activities including hangman, whack-a-word, and others.

Lawless French
The Subjunctivisor is probably one of the best tools available for testing to see if you need to use the subjunctive tense or not. Cuz let's face it, subjunctive tense is hard, mostly because it isn't noticeable in English.

Free Rice
For a fun vocabulary tool, check out Free rice. This quiz tool is set up to test your knowledge while offering humanitarian aid to hungry people. Check out their about section for more information, or just keep testing your French vocabulary skills.

Duolingo
I suppose no list of language websites would be complete without duolingo. This free site (and ap) has taken most paid language programs hostage partly due to its fun games and helpful feedback. Personally, I do not endorse this as a language-learning app because it doesn't have the breadth to teach full fluency skills, but it's great as a supplementary app or to refresh your memory on a few French concepts you may have forgotten because it's been 3 years since you spoke any serious French to anyone besides your dog.

Nouvelles en francais facile
A helpful tool for listening and discerning French words is Nouvelles en francais facile. The hosts of this podcast talk about real news stories in French slow enough for a learner to understand most of what they're saying. The interview natural French people and discuss important topics. While there are many French podcasts out there, this one is my favorite so far. The site that hosts this podcast is not in French or English, so unfortunately, I haven't been able to make use of the "quiz" tool, but there are PDF files of the quizes and transcriptions of all the podcasts available on the site, which are very useful.

News in Slow French
Similarly, there exists News in Slow French, which is a regularly broadcast French news program that listeners can subscribe to for all the latest French news. It is leveled beginner, intermediate, and advanced, with French transcripts, including hidden translation tips, and varying pace depending on which level you choose. For the full audio, you have to purchase a subscription, but there is still a lot of great content on the site for free.

Karaoké FLE
This is a fun site where you can listen to French songs and test your listening skills by typing in the French word after they've sung it in the song. In my experience, the program is confused by apostrophes, so it's difficult to get a good score since you have to skip any words which would have included them, but it's still a great listening exercise. There are several difficulty levels and a variety of songs to choose from Karaoké FLE. This is a system brought to you by http://www.bonjourdefrance.com/ which is a cool site with many helpful French language activities.

NRJ
If you like to know what music French people are listening to, check out NRJ Radio. You can get news in French as well as music. French people listen to quite a bit of American music, but if you pick the right station, you can get mostly French music. This link will take you to the "made in France" station, but there are dozens of others.

Il était une histoire
For a bit of a fresh take on learning vocabulary and grammar, check out these fairy tales and legends. The site is full of short stories in various genres that are free to read. If you create a free account, you get access to audio for most of the books, games, research links, and sometimes videos. The stories are from many cultures, European, African, and Asian, so there's a diverse mix of stories to read and interact with.

The French Experiment
For a bit of extra practice in listening and pronouncing French, the French Experiment has a number of lessons and stories that you can read along with. While there isn't much content on this site, if you subscribe to the newsletter, you'll receive weekly website recommendations for great sites in a variety of topics. What content is available on the site is clear and helpful, and definitely a resource for listening practice. The stories available are also pronounced slowly and clearly, and include hidden translations just a click away in the transcript.

French Together
French together offers a friendly course you can pay to participate in, but I'm always after the free stuff, which is what you'll get in their extensive French Vocabulary section. While the vocabulary available focuses pretty heavily on travel French, the format is easy to follow and includes great explanations and cultural hints on how to use various phrases and terms. This is a great resource for augmenting your pronunciation skills.

Memrise
I honestly don't use flashcards much, but if you're a fan of them, Memrise might be the app for you. With beginning and advanced options, this app will help you review reading, listening, and spelling of a set of classically problematic French words and phrases. It also has fun leaderboards and daily goals to help motivate you. Also available as a mobile app.

Talk in French
For some fun entertainment options, check out Talk in French blog. The blogger has some great suggestions for practicing your French. If you're feeling like dropping $10, Frederic also offers a number of audiobooks to help you learn the French language. I personally preferred the free stories available from Il était une histoire. This article has some great film suggestions.

Last FM
Also, search for fantastic French music at Last FM. You can search by artist or style.

Courrier Picard 
Or maybe you'd like to check out this selection of French comics

Poems
Perhaps you'd like to read some classic Quebecoise poetry Or these Children's Poems

Discord
While not strictly educational, I've been able to meet and chat with a number of native French speakers and French language learners on discord. You can join the Franglish server or French Discord Server to get in touch with a random assortment of French-inclined people. There are text and vocal channels in each server. The conversations can get adult-themed, silly, or may be found to have trolls, but are pretty well moderated. If you don't already have a discord account, you will need one to access these chatrooms.

Well, that's all for today. I'd be happy to add more, so let me know if there are any great French sites you've used as a French student or teacher. Thanks for reading!

Three Simple Syllables (Another Asexual Rant)

Am I a relationship nightmare?

They tell me that men hate commitment but love sex.

What do I want? I want your soul, but you can keep your pants on.

“You know you’ll never get a date if you keep up with this whole ‘asexual’ thing.” Yeah, I know, that’s kinda the point.

It’s strange, though, letting go of the idea that I’ll fall in love, get married, buy a home, have 2.5 kids, raise them, and retire with the man of my dreams. I’m not the first one who has done it, and I won’t be the last, but somewhere it feels like letting go of a piece of my soul every time I say, “no, I don’t really care if I get married or not.”

I don’t think I’m sad about losing this bit of me though. It seems like a superfluous bit. Something that I never asked to be a part of me, but somehow it found its way in there; an expectation that I would eventually get married. Little girls in grandma’s attic, playing dress-up with her old veils and hoop skirts: “aww, what a beautiful bride,” they told me as I clattered down the stairs wearing curtains and lace and shoes too large for a girl of 5. I wanted to be beautiful too. Being beautiful was a good thing then.

I walk past wedding shops and craft stores still and think, “If I ever had a wedding, that would be at the reception.” I try on dresses, but no one tells me “aww;” they just nod knowingly as if a prince might sweep through the doors and carry me off then and there. As if a dress could make me beautiful enough for him to forget that carrying off girls is socially awkward these days.

I stare at myself in the mirror sometimes and think, “damn, that girl is gorgeous. Too bad I’m the only one who has the courage to say so out loud.” Later at the club, though, they whistle at me and call me hot and sexy. Congratulations on coming up with two syllables to sum up my appearance. Somehow, hearing it out loud doesn’t make me feel cherished. It makes me feel exposed and accosted. Too bad I can’t be gorgeous without being sexually objectified.

It’s not that I don’t want to be wanted. I know some people don’t find themselves in need of relationships, but I don’t mind romance. I think it’s stupid, but I still like it. But it’s weird to think that people wouldn’t want me because I don’t want sex. I get it; sex is a big deal, but I’m a lot better at conversation, massages, eating, and cuddling than I am at sex. Can’t you appreciate what I am?

“No one will want you because you won’t have sex. They’ll dump you eventually. You’re not good enough unless you’re willing to have sex.”

No one says it. But it hides in the depths of my brain waiting for my lonely days and my depression to forget how absurd it is. Because it could be true.

“You could just stop. You could just give up on this asexual thing. Why keep labeling yourself if it hurts this much? I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

It’s not about the label. I could have no label, but I still wouldn’t want sex. So I wonder. I think that is my biggest fear (here, exposed in my blog for everyone to see. Classy). I’ve lost friends before because I’ve told them I’m not interested in them romantically. I’ve even lost friends because even though they knew I wasn’t interested in sex, they couldn’t stay “just friends.” Power to you, man, but just because I have a female body doesn’t mean I’m just a potential sexual partner/girlfriend. I’ve lost friends because they’re sexual and I’m not. Could I lose a partner for the same reason?

No. I’m not going to be like that. I’ll tell you right away. I’ll make sure you know. I won’t even start something. I can’t deal with being rejected before you even know me. I’m amazing. I just don’t like sex. If you like sex more than you like me, then let’s not date. I can deal with that. But I also don’t want to be alone. So, now what?

Man-Eating Vegetarians

I already wrote a piece about yoga. Hopefully I’ll publish it before I post this so no one is confused, but I’m going to write this bit anyway.

I found a photo of a clipping from a book today that said, “Beloved, do not take part in any of these components of Satan’s Spiritual Structure! They are doorways to demonic possession.” What followed was a list of classic satanic activities such as Astrology, Wicca, Necromancy, and Marijuana, as well as a few items that might not normally be on such a list. These included cyberpunk culture, vegetarianism, heavy metal, Lord of the Rings, and Twilight films.

Let me start by saying I’m not surprised that these items made it onto the list. If nothing else, I’m surprised Star Wars isn’t on the list as well. There is so much in this world that we have reason to be afraid of. Let’s face it, enough heavy metal can kill a person. Take lead or mercury for example.

Oh, Christians. How is it that the same group of people can contain some of the most caring, grounded, sensible people in the world as well as some of the rudest, most superstitious nuts in modern times? I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure that I’m not going to go to face eternal condemnation for failing to share that “like if you love Jesus, ignore for hell” post.

Well, I don’t think you really worry about going to hell for not sharing a facebook post either. Not when you think about it. All those good luck charms? You might have them hanging around just in case, but you know they don’t actually mean much. When you hit the cold floor, all the luck in the world deserts you and means nothing. Then where can you turn? Suddenly the religion you held to for comfort seems less feasible than anything else. Suddenly it doesn’t matter if you follow tribalism, Catholicism, Pastafarianism, Rastafarianism, Judaism, or vegetarianism.

Here we are at the end of all things (gratuitous LOTR quote). Where can we turn? There is evil in this world. There are things that will attack us and steal our hope. What can we hold onto? There is despair and brokenness and evil. But there’s also good, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.

See, I’m less afraid of bad luck, demons, or unknown things than I am of what I know exists: depression, illness, heartbreak, loneliness, failure, or poverty. What’s the point of fearing the unknown? There’s enough within the known to be afraid of (according to that one fellow who vanished into the crowd in Beyond the Deepwoods).

As Mme Ba indicates, why should we strive for the impossible; to achieve the possible is already a victory. This isn’t to say there isn’t anything beyond what we can physically see and feel. This isn’t to say we mustn’t have dreams. This isn’t to say we can’t seek comfort when we can’t understand what’s going on. It is to say, though, that we can find hope in the fact that there is One who is greater than demonic possession. Avoiding Yoga and punk culture can never guarantee that we’ll be safe. Why are we so afraid?

Another Silent Revolution

“Why did you change your name? Do you have a legitimate reason, or are you doing it just to be different?”

I guess I was sort of caught off guard by this question. It offended me. Of course I did it to be different, but not just to be different. But I didn't know what to say, so I just said, “that's how I think of myself.” To which he responded, “why?” and I didn't answer because I didn't know.

I didn't change my name a lot. Just one letter. The first vowel. When I introduce myself, most people don't even notice, and sometimes I have to repeat myself a few times before they realize it's different. But I think it's just like a nickname. Just a more permanent one. I've had a lot of self-inflicted nicknames over the years, but this one has stuck with me for most of my adult life, and I have a plastic card that says it's my real name now. But why?

At first I guess I thought it was because I didn't want to be the same as everyone else. This is a legitimate reason. There are healthy ways to be like everyone else and there are healthy ways to be different from everyone else. Having a new name is not an unhealthy way to be different from everyone else.

According to my brother, most people name their babies something different because they don't want to attach the association of a negative experience to their child. That's why there are so few girls named Hillary these days. Not that that was ever a really common name, but still. I can't say I ever had a lot of very negative connotation with my former name. I knew lots of people who had the same name as me, and 9/10 were pretty cool. But I didn't ever really like having the same name as something else. I'm different from other people; shouldn't I be called something different too?

So that's got me thinking. There are a lot of things about me that are different. I do my hair differently than most people. I have a few interesting exhibitions of body art. I have some unique jewelry. I don't always prescribe to conventional beauty procedures. I wear clothing that has been described as “the sort of thing only you wear.” Why do I do this? Am I that desperate to be different? Am I doing it just to get attention? Am I trying to make a statement, to get people to notice me and think, “oh, she's weird.”

No.

I am trying to make a statement, but it's not that I'm different. I am different, but that's mostly just a side effect of my choice to do what I enjoy. I wear my hair the way I do because I enjoy it. The fact that it's different from most people's is irrelevant. I wear strange clothes because I think they're beautiful. And if a few heads turn as I walk down the sidewalk, I don't really care. I am who I am and I love what I love, and I refuse to apologize for it.

There have been a lot of movements that have had power. Mobs and protests, petitions, viral videos, speeches and expositions. That's not what I'm about. I don't want to make a statement of revolution or rebellion; my statement is that this is normal. My goal is to normalize uniqueness. I want children to be able to wear clothes that aren't exactly like what everyone else is wearing without being ashamed. I want looking like yourself to be normal instead of having to dress to fit a mold. I want women to feel free to go unshaven without feeling like monsters. I want humanness to be normal. Because there's nothing wrong with being comfortable as yourself. Unless you're evil, which I guess we all are at least a little bit. The power of normalization is greater than most people seem to realize. Bikinis are a great example of this.

To those of you who balk at the idea of calling someone a different name than the one their parents gave them at birth or who consider it strange that someone would want to be called by a different pronoun than the one you're used to, I give you the right to feel how you want, but realize that you'll never be my friend. Names change all the time. Women change their last name when they get married. People assume nicknames in various circumstances. Celebrities trademark specific pseudonyms. Sure, it's comfortable to have something reliable like gender to be able to fall back on, but regardless of your stance on transgenderism, if your goal is to stay comfortable, you may miss out on many thrilling friendships.

I changed my name for a different reason than to be different or to normalize name changes. I can have a classic name or a unique nickname. Either is fine under the standard of normalcy. It's normal to have the name your parents gave you and it's normal to go by a nickname. But I want to be who I am. I want to have a unique name so that I am just myself, not just another girl with the same name as your cousin. Because we can't always help comparing those we meet to someone with the same name. I want to be unprecedented, and I want to be my own category. I think everyone is their own category, really. Sure we all have things in common, but none of us are really the same.

So, to be precise, I didn't change my name just to be different. I already am different. I wanted my name to reflect that.

Life on Hiatus

I don't know if it's possible to define what it means to really live. At least, not in the sense that colloquial Americanism puts it. Obviously we have medical definitions of what it means to be alive versus otherwise, though even that is somewhat contentious since with modern medicine, we can revive people even after they have been declared legally dead. Additionally, if the presence of a heartbeat and breathing along with brain waves are the hallmarks of being alive, what are we to make of that ever-present issue of when life begins in the womb? Yet if we cannot even decide on a medical definition of being alive, how are we to define that feeling of freedom and purpose that each of us seek in our most whimsical tempers?

The matter is further complicated by the broadness of what causes people to feel alive. Some feel alive at the top of a mountain or in the midst of some other breathtaking swell of nature. Others feel this purpose and thrill in dark alleys in desperate situations. Still others find life and purpose in cathedrals or prayer closets, and some find that lavish spending and ownership of expensive items brings them that rush that seems bespoken of life. While there seems to be great variation in what it means to be alive, like so many other slippery definitions, it remains fairly easy to describe what it means to feel dead.

If you are reading this, I find it unlikely that you have ever been dead in the medial sense of the term, though I suppose I have met several self-proclaimed phoenixes in my lifetime thus far, so it's not impossible. But despite this lack of literal deadness, I find it unlikely that you have not experienced an emotional state that resonates with the word “dead.” Perhaps you were listless, tired, bored, stressed, unhappy, or distinctly uncomfortable. Your emotional state was similar to that of a skeleton in a pineboard box, and you felt that you couldn't get out of it for whatever reason. You found yourself with a lack of purpose and your dreams seemed impossibly far away. If you've felt that way for more than 5 days in a row, you may have clinical depression like me.

I bring this up because I have just recently found myself relieved of the shackles of a constricting job, and now that I have time to think, I realize just how dead I have been feeling for the past 3 months. You know it's bad when you are counting down the days until school starts just so you don't have to deal with summer anymore. It's frustrating, of course, because all the things I wanted to do, including writing in this blog, were just shoved aside for the sake of something that I realize I don't even know why I wanted it. No amount of paychecks are worth the many sleepless nights and anxiety medications that I went through for the sake of this job. Yet I needed a job.

Isn't this the crux of it though? My dear free-spirited friend with the camera and the unique clothing choices sends me instagram photos with captions like, “travel while you're young and don't worry about the money,” or, “You were meant for more than just paying the bills.” But most problematically, I find that while my life thus far is not life giving and full of purpose, I find my stressful workload and lack of artistic outlet preferable to that summer I spent homeless. I guess it was nice for a while to have all the time in the world to pursue whatever I wanted (as long as it was free); I painted a lot, and I spent a lot of time driving around just to look at things, but I was also pretty hungry. I appreciate people like YouTuber Homeward Bound who packs up her whole life and drives around in an SUV. It sounds amazing. But the reason most people live in houses and work 9-5 jobs is that we as humans require stability as well as freedom. But how can we keep from being dead while living in a safe place?

A wise man once said that freedom isn't safe; that we can't experience true freedom without giving up a lot of safety, stability, and comfort. But truly, we can't have a great deal of safety and comfort without abandoning a certain amount of freedom. According to the idea cliodynmics, history repeats itself on a generational basis because generation 1 becomes restless and wars and catastrophes break out, and generation 2 grows up in this unrest and insecurity and therefore takes extensive pains to avoid it in their lifetimes. Unfortunately, the grandchildren or perhaps even the children of generation 2 grow up in the relative safety and comfort of this counter-movement and become restless as their ancestors a few generations ago did, and the cycle repeats itself. That is to say, we don't realize how awful war is unless we've lived in it, yet without war to contrast against, we become bored and dream of something more exciting than a peaceful life.

There are those who say that we are currently on the cusp of World War III. This, in my opinion, while a frightening possibility, is less likely than civil war based on the many factions of social and political causes at work in the United States today. I'm no political commentator. Those who know me wouldn't hesitate to say that my political beliefs are rapidly brushed aside in favor of individualism; if you want social change, don't get involved in politics: be that change yourself. But in whatever case, there is the possibility that dramatic civil unrest will rock the country I live in at any time. Will we feel more alive then? Will we find more purpose in vendettas and tactics and affiliations than we do in economics? Could that fix the many cases of purposeless young people that fill up our corporate world? Isn't there anything else that would do this more kindly?

I can only pray that my little brother wouldn't be drafted if it came to that.

So, what is freedom worth? What would I do to rid myself of this feeling of deadness inside me that caused so much lack of blog updating in the past 3 months? Relatively speaking, this has been the worst summer of my adult life, and that compared to a stretch of ridiculous jobs and lack of jobs and uncertainty about my future. I have more than once compared my job this summer to hell. But as a certain fictional military personnel once said on M*A*S*H*, “War isn't hell. War is war, and Hell is Hell. And of the two, war is a lot worse.”

I think we can all agree that the definition of really living does not include war. Meditations Minis says that we can find purpose and life in even the most mundane of activities if we take a moment to love and dream. But while I agree that we need dreams and we need to feel alive and full of purpose, there's also something to be said for finding a place to dream that isn't built on boredom, supposed victimization, or social positions.

(Why is there a picture of a colorful crochet blanket at the end of this post?

Obviously because I crochet when I'm anxious and this seemed like a pleasant photo to put up to trick strangers into reading my article that has nothing to do with crochet or hiatus. But it's pretty <3)

Advice to Me

I don't think I planned on that one summer being the launch point for my adult life. Who knew that first job my aunt got me the week after my 18^th birthday would keep coming back to me as it has? I had no interest in working as a disability aide, and I guess I still don't, but this is what I find myself doing. I didn't realize disability is so prevalent or that it can pop up anywhere.

I don't think I'm qualified to give “advice to 20 somethings” as is a popular trend floating around blogs these days. I have stories, of course, but what I take away from them is not what you might need. Life tends to keep going in a direction you aren't quite sure you like. I don't know why there's so much disability and violence in life. I guess I was surprised to find it in me too.

I'd give advice to my former self, but even I don't know the end of this story. Life isn't an Adventure in Odyssey; you can't usually make a half hour show with exposition, climax, and resolution. You know in a book it'll eventually be alright, because there's always an ending. Life isn't like that. I can't say for sure which parts will factor into the climax and which parts are just needless exposition.

Someone slapped me in the face yesterday (figuratively), telling me that no matter what my circumstances, I don't have to be miserable. I guess that's true, in a sense. Misery is a state of mind as much as it is a sort of thing that just falls on you, or perhaps that you fall into. I don't say this to downplay mental illness. If you don't know, I have depression and anxiety. People joke that “falling in love” is sort of a misnomer because you don't fall in love the same way you fall into a hole. But you fall into depression similarly to how you fall in a hole; you might be walking along not worrying too much about where you're going and suddenly you're 6 feet under and have no way to get out. Is it possible to not be miserable at the bottom of this hole though? I think that's where the metaphor falls apart. Depression isn't something you can see, like a hole. It's so intangible there isn't usually a clear direction you need to go. That's not to say I have to stay depressed, just that it's not really clear how to not be depressed.

I don't know that I have advice for my former self. That 18 year old girl that spent 4 hours a day watching a low-functioning 10 year old alternately tremble and drool in some ways is a lifetime away. That girl didn't have insomnia, a college degree, close friends, artistic aspirations, concrete plans, a political agenda, a liberal arts perspective, or a sexual orientation. She'd never had to pay bills, manage a budget, repair a car, stay up late studying, or weave through the intricacies of trying to date and not date at the same time. She'd also never really been on the internet. I wonder if the current me would do things differently if put back in that place. If she'd still stock up on snacks in her trunk and spend weekends thinking about doing something besides driving and playing freecell. But no matter how much I wonder, the truth is that I'm never going back.

I think that's one thing I would tell myself. I mean, I'd tell me “you're asexual. It's cool.” But I would also say that it's not worth having all those regrets. Of course, I believe in living life in such a way that I won't have regrets, but sometimes everyone does things that shouldn't have been done. But you can't undo them. I think I'd also tell myself that agnosticism isn't for me.

Maybe I'd tell myself to get as much training on disability as possible. How was I to know that abnormal psychology exists everywhere (to the point that it's not really abnormal)? But that field of knowledge is vast and unpredictable. I think one could study for a thousand years and not really understand it. I don't even understand my own depression and anxiety despite living with it every day.

But you know, 18 year old me knew something that I may have forgotten. She used to dream of a day when disability would be no more. There would be a day when that trembling, drooling child would no longer be autistic. He would have words and be able to walk and run and read and sing and create without assistance. He would be free. And I think that it's sometimes easy to stay in a place where disability is crippling and seems like it'll last forever and that there will never be any hope of freedom from it. But I wonder if this isn't just a cry for redemption?