Short Stories — 8

This post is part of Project: Inception, written ~8 years ago. It has been untouched from its original, pseudonymous, form. It is also part of the larger “farewell” tour and countdown as I turn-off this blog and head to the metaverse where I will live out the rest of my wonderful days. I hope to see you there!

Short Stories

I have already written about one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life which was the time I was learning about origami and how that literally changed my life and for the next few posts I believe I’m just going to expand some of those experiences a little more.

Again, this is an important part of self-discovery and an opportunity to fully uncover the the things that make you unique as well as the things that you can maximize and then leverage for your future job, relationships, vocation, and much, much more. These exercises have helped me find patterns of thought and behavior as well as been a source of exceptional catharsis as I walk through therapy and into this new aspie-centric reality.

It’s as if I’ve lived with it my entire life but I’m finally seeing it as it originally was and by going back through these memories I can understand not just the what but also the why.

Short Stories for my Brother

I learned to type at a very young age, spending summer afternoons in my basement on my mom’s old IBM Selectric typewriter. I remember how cold the basement was compared to the rest of the house, and especially in comparison to the summer heat. I remember loving this because instead of being forced or coerced to go outside and play with all those “other” kids I was able to spend time with myself, blissfully engaged with something that wasn’t tied to social cues, relationships development, and the “right” behavior. Consequently, while my brother was out at play dates and doing more normal social things I was writing and I fell in love with it instantly.

I loved the challenge of learning the keys and optimizing the timing and rhythm of contacting my fingers to them. It was pleasant, intimate, and it definitely did not give me any weird looks or stares when I started rocking in my seat or making funny noises. In many ways it the rhythmic contact was very much like music to me but engaged my entire body, my mind, and my spirit and soul. I had no idea at the time that I had discovered something that would eventually be a very large part of my future and my life.

And thanks to my mom I discovered one of the very first life-long passions because it was her that had suggested that I start writing, but not just for myself but for others. In this case, it was for my brother who still “sleeping in mom’s belly” – he apparently would be delivered at some point (which I didn’t really understand but I’m sure it involved pretty white storks who flew around and dropped kids through an open window). I can also remember from as long as I can remember hearing the tap-tap-tap from the typewriter as my mom used it for her administrative work for the church where she volunteered. I can remember hearing it off in the distance and always being drawn to it and wondering when I could have a shot at trying it out for myself.

When she gave that shot to me I took it and never looked back. I remember the firm crisp paper that she would put in for me the first few times and watched as I tapped away at the very big keys. I was in heaven. I loved the click of the keys, the absolute control over the entire machine, and how it smelled and responded to every single command that I gave it. I was master and this was my slave. Where the rest of the world was a complete black box of anxiety, disruption, confusion, and the complete unknown I found peace, satisfaction, responsiveness, understanding, and absolute certainty.

And, I loved mastering it. I loved increasing my speed. I loved seeing literal results in my effectiveness as well as all those black letters on white paper. It was so obvious a fit that it made it even more difficult for me to accept any other activity during those periods of time. Eating? Whatever. Sleeping? No thank you. Friends? Wait, what friends? No, nope. And even playing video games which have always been a serious source of entertainment and comfort was no longer as-interesting. And sure, I was alone, but I liked that. I coveted that time. It’s what I still try to find even as an adult.

But then she gave me a mission: To write for my brother and I dove in with earnest. I went through tons of paper to just get started but I finally landed on a story of my brother and how he had decided one day to escape from the 2nd floor of our home and climb down the rain gutter. That short story made such an impression on me that even after he was born I was certain that he would actually do what I had written. I loved the feeling of accomplishment, I loved the use of technology, and I knew that I really, really loved typing. I was passionate about it and I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing it.

And it all started with writing short stories about my baby brother. It all started with my mother encouraging to type. It all started with technology. Is there any wonder, then, that I’ve found myself in a place where I tell stories about technology? Go figure.

Thanks mom.