Unfortunately, my resolve of getting my arse in gear hasn't been going to well, as you can see. In all fairness though, I'm blaming college for this one.
Finding things to talk about is also proving slightly tricky. You see, I want to include a lot of non-ranty posts, but that isn't easy as my life's a bit uneventful at the moment and I don't have much I can witter about. So, for today, I thought I'd fall briefly back on Neurodiversity, and specifically, Autistics Speaking Day, which is coming up this October.
The day itself is a way away yet, but I, not wanting to get caught short, started thinking about what to write almost immediately. That wasn't an easy task, either. I've already written about several of the bigger issues, and I didn't really want to just shove an old blog post in their direction with a "Here you go, take this". I considered writing about my childhood. I considered filming myself stimming and portraying it in a positive light, until I realised you need a decent camera for that, and I don't have one.
In the end, I decided to go back to basics. I will be writing about why I support neurodiversity in the first place. This isn't as lazy as it sounds. In fact, I think it sort of has to be done. A lot of people view ND supporters as kooks, and I've seen the ND movement as a collective compared to all sorts- The Flat Earth Society, Indigo Children champions, people who want to give plants the vote... you name it, somebody thinks ND's worse than it. Now, obviously this is ridiculous and needs to change, and taking steps to convey just how important ND is and what it's real goals are is therefore something that needs to be done. In detail. Which I have every intention of doing. Yeah... I won't holding back on this one, people.
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Day 8: What are your worst and best experiences with non-Goths?
Best: I can't think of anything in particular, but my boots seem to get positive reactions, sometimes Oh-wow-those-are-epic very positive reactions, more often than not. I've had people compliment my hair pretty frequently, too. Plus one friend
Worst: OK, this experience isn't so much bad as it is confusing, but it's more interesting than people shouting 'Emo!' at me from the other side of the road, so here we go:
Dress as you please day. Year 10. Most people who had been into alt clothing in year nine were, by this stage, returning to mainstream fashions, leaving me one of just two Babybats in the year. Needless to say, we stood out a bit more than we had done in previous years. Now, this other Babybat found his feet with Goth quicker than I did, and on this particular day, he was in Steampunk goggles and a full trenchcoat, while I was wearing a Marilyn Manson T shirt, brand name trousers, and... probably just one striped armwarmer (This is something that's never changed- I'll never wear a pair of gloves if I can just wear one). Mind you, l also had my New Rocks and beloved leather jacket, so swings and roundabouts.
So, to summarise the general situation; One fifteen year old was already well acquainted enough with Goth to take large amounts of inspiration from it; another wasn't quite so certain, and was still experimenting with the slightly more mainstream rock and metal subcultures. Not a newsworthy circumstance, really. Or so you'd think.
At Lunchtime, as I was going up the library steps, one of my friends caught up with me and this happened:
Him: (solemnly) I'm sorry, Louise, but Matt's won."
Me: (pretending to not have guessed what he was on about) Won what?
Him: "You know, the Goth thing. Matt's better dressed up than you.
Whether the other Goth ever got informed that, Congratulations, he'd won a Goth-off he'd had no idea he was involved in, and was 'dressed up', I don't know. But for me... I had no idea how to respond. I vaguely remember doing a lot of walking away in bafflement and not saying what I wanted to due to a feeling that it would only get me shunted into the position of 'sore loser'. The whole thing was also a bit of a BLAM- my friend made a couple of comments like this throughout the day (in fact, I've sandwiched two together up there), but once that day was over nothing... ever got mentioned again.
Until now, of course.
Sorry, Old Wyvern Friend, on the off chance you're reading this and recognise yourself. You have my full permission to extract revenge and tell the world about something silly I did as a fourteen year old. Fair's fair, after all.
I also have a best worst experience: I was walking to the hairdressers, dressed down a bit because hair dye and shampoo are best kept away from jewellery and favourite clothes. On the way, I passed a group of kids on the way home from school. They took one look at me and started debating, loudly, as to whether or not I was, like, totally emo, innit. Part of the exchange went thus:
"God, look, emo!"
"What are you on about, she's not emo!"
"Yeah she is, she's walking fire, mate!"
Now... I have no idea what the lad meant by 'Walking Fire', but it's definitely the single most awesome insult on the face of the earth. I couldn't help but smile.