Take a Step in Somebody Else's Shoes
I think it is important that we people who have conditions on the autistic spectrum extend our range of understanding beyond ourselves. Our experiences are fundamentally limited, but outsides us is infinity! I suggest we write poetry and short stories that attempt to glean an understanding NTness. Of course, since NTs come in all varieties and flavors, it might be best to split them into bite-sized chunks for easier consumption: ADHDers; crazy, crazy schizophrenics; Downers; young go-getters and assorted whipper-snappers; drama-queen histrions; anal-retentive managers; church ladies and laddies and other Godfellas; and frighteningly average folks such as can be found in the Midwestern United States (where I live).
I'll start this voyage into Deeper UnderstandingTM with a poem called "Schizo."
United we stand
Divided we become
Like Ants
Who killed Kennedy?
That is the question of our time
I think I know who
It was the pot that called the catfish black!
When the catfish shot Kennedy
Hysteria!
Ten years from this day
I captured the catfish
I returned it to the pond
My curse!
Wicked fish!
Even now
The catfish paralyzes me
With its stinging pies
I like blueberry
But it numbs me away
Because the catfish made it
Why did you shoot Kennedy!
I am calling the cops!
You murderer!
Why do you poison me?
And eavesdrop on my sapience?
What do you want from me?
You're evil!
Stay away!
You want to kill me as you killed Kennedy?
I see your whiskers
Evil fish!
One day I will be president
But you won't smite me
I know your tricks
Don't come any closer!
Or I will have to defend myself!
Back!
Now where was I?
Ah yes, would you like to hear of the time I went to Mars on the Rover?
...
I also want to include a poem taking the perspective of a boy with attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD):
I liek green leeft trees
and cats wth flees
Can we go to rceess now please?
Okay, in this one I'll take the point of view of a highly anal-retentive manager.
At 7:00, I entered the office. Not surprisingly, no one else had yet arrived. Some people do not value a good day's work adequately. I sat at my desk and began reviewing everyone's assigned tasks and schedules for the day. It was much like yesterday's; consistency is the kernel of high-quality work. I checked my e-mail; someone had sent an informal proposal to improve the work environment here. That is all well and good; I accept the limitations of my managerial expertise; but the company has established procedures and regulations that must be followed. If she would like to make these suggestions, she should start by getting the appropriate forms and filling them out. I would gladly give them consideration if she did. I will let her know of the specific policy defining suggestions for workplace improvement.
Now the first person has arrived. It's Wally. He's a good man: always on time, always at the meetings, always productive. I am going to leave my desk for no more than one minute to say hello to him. It is important to reward employee's model behavior.
Now the others are trickling in. This last one is George. He's been at least ten minutes late for work three times in the last three weeks; that is unacceptable here. I must have a talk with him about corporate tardiness policy. I have heard the watercooler gossip that people appreciate George's plucky attitude and originality, but likeability has nothing to do with productivity. We are here to work, not have a social hour.
[...]
Most of my day passes like this. It's work. I can't say I enjoy it, but at least it's not fun. It is not easy for me to admit this, but I am intensely fearful of spending time on "leisure." The concept baffles me. The pinnacle of humanity's accomplishments required years of tireless effort to produce. They weren't the resulting of "just letting go" or "enjoying oneself."