Late last night I posted about my epiphany and how I think I’d lost some friends because of that Last Guy… Today, I need to write a very short (for me) follow up about it, because it hurts. Because I’m frustrated, and since there are several people who aren’t speaking to me, I have nowhere else to vent it but on here.
Seems that since my summer has ended (so, since Thursday) the world has turned topsy turvy. I don’t know what is going on with the Alt-Right/Neo-Nazi/KKK stuff, or with North Korea. I don’t understand it. I have been too busy and too tired to pay much attention to it. I know it’s important, but I can’t wrap my brain around it all right now.
Instead, I want to explain my epiphany I had about my dating life as it relates to my Aspie-ness. It really blew my mind.
This weekend, if we were discussing our lives over caffeinated beverages, we’d be again at the Panera Bread near my house. It’s tax free weekend here, which (for those of you not in Texas or various other states in the United States) is basically a shopping holiday. It’s like Black Friday, but there’s no sales tax on clothes and school supplies. I was supposed to be shopping, but instead I got my nails done and am now enjoying a delicious Caesar salad with Chicken while I compose my actual shopping lists.
I’ll venture out tomorrow… if I have time.
This weekend, if we were talking over coffee, I’d tell you that my summer is almost up.
And I am decidedly not ready for it to be over!
The wheel turns again and we’ve come to the first of the harvest festivals, for those of you of the witchy persuasion. It’s a holiday that I always enjoy. Mostly because I bake a blueberry pie in honor of Lugh the Long-Armed. Blueberries are in season, and I add lemon for the light of the sun, and poppyseeds, as poppies are used to decorate the wreaths in honor of John Barleycorn, who sacrifices himself so that the harvest can be made and the seeds can go back into the earth to be reborn again next year.
Actually, I always put poppyseeds in my pie, but only just learned that poppies go on the Barleycorn wreaths… Sometimes happy accidents happen.
This weekend, if we were sharing our lives over caffeinated beverages, we’d be at Panera Bread. Recently my roommate brought me here for the first time, earlier this week as a matter of fact, and I really enjoyed it. I didn’t order wisely (I’ll explain in a bit), but what I’d ordered was tasty. I came back to try to order something that was within my points allowance…
For those of you not in the know, “points allowance” is a Weight Watchers term.
Occasionally I’ll see something in the news (or, more likely, on Facebook) that makes me particularly introspective. This one in particular also hearkens back to the issues I had with the last guy and the handful of men of a similar ethnic background.
I hate even making that distinction.
I’ve spoken before about how being raised in a family of a different ethnic make-up than my own has given me a particularly different view of the world: I don’t “see” color. I’m told that just saying such a thing is somehow racist because I’m denying the intricacies of a person’s heritage by not acknowledging their race. Or I’m told that people who say that, generally don’t mean it, and yet I do (again, the reason why I hate that I feel the need to make the distinction about several guys of similar ethnic backgrounds and an issue that seems to come from that).
I suppose it would be better to say that I try not to have preconceived notions of a person’s character based on their race, because to me it doesn’t matter where they’re coming from, but where they are and where they’re going and if (at least when thinking about potentially dating them) I want to join them on their journey or have them join mine.