Can you smell that smell?

I've never been too terribly concerned with the social delays of my ASD/Asperger's. Well, not now that I am a 41yr old woman with a husband, two children, and a close group of friends. I will admit it does still operate like a mangled jack-in-the-box at the workplace sometimes... most of the time. But, it equates more with a having to do and tolerate things/people I don't want to. Things I don't understand. Like, why should I have to listen to you talk incessantly about your dogs. I mean, I'll give you the first few times. But, when you regularly talk about your dog's bowel movement just for the sake of talking, I've got to move on. I grew up with dogs. I understand dogs. Likewise, although I have children I live my life for, I do NOT want to hear about the plans for your baby shower. Not unless it is on the moon Europa-- that would be cool.

I don't understand how neuro-typical people can handle that. Social exchange: you tell me something about yourself and then I tell you something about myself just to fill space. People are scared of silence. I never needed that. There are times I am genuinely interested. Overly interested. And, there are times when I am  listening to you because I know those are the rules. It is kind of like how I tack on, "And, I hope you're doing well" to the end of my phone messages. Reciprocation. I figure people should just assume I care. But, they don't. I am not a sociopath or a monster-- I care. But, that doesn't change day to day, so I have trouble understanding why I need to express it everyday.  Aside, I have very rigid ideas about friends versus acquaintances. It is a concept that looks like a bull's eye. I will not call someone my friend if they are not. I'll use the words acquaintance or co-worker, but not friend. That word means something and carries weight.

 Because I saddled up with the misfits, heads, and punks during school, especially high school-- I was never forced to do much of a social waltz. I was revered for my stand-off-ish persona. Yet, I am working hard to get my daughters the early intervention because they need to learn things people call simple like: asking for help, inviting children over to play, and acknowledging children when they come over to play. These are all skills that can be integrated. And, ones that will eventually help them find and keep friends. Find and keep jobs. So, if I feel that is important for my children, it must be important overall (throwing a blanket in a sweeping gesture).

Wait! This blog was supposed to be about sensitivities. I have briefly mentioned some of mine when I spoke about turtleneck tortures and caraway seed assassins. But, one that smacked me right in the face recently? Right in the first half hour of the IMFAR conference? Odors-- positive and negative. In many situations, they are one and the same. Let me start this off with a little anecdote. People do seem to love those. I don't really. You know, like GET ON WITH IT ALREADY!

While working as a clerk in a record store (one selling used vinyl, CDs, videos, super-8s, what have you), the director Stephen Frears was filming the movie High Fidelity in my neighborhood. He did a casting call for extras in our store. Chaos! Every star in Chicago waiting to be discovered showed  up. It was good for a laugh. One of the casting people approached me and asked if I would be interested in letting them use my vintage motorcycle in a scene... and if I'd like to be an extra. I let it soak a bit, and said "yes" to the extra part. I had never done anything like that and wanted to see a movie being filmed. I said "no" to the motorcycle part. I spent two days sitting around during halted production, making minimum while some starlet got her haircut. I befriend some of the gaffers, makeup people, and other tech persons by being curious and asking questions (lots of). Soon, they were showing me pictures of their kids and getting me bottles of water. Eventually, I would get on film, playing a bartender. Big whoop. I recently bought the DVD, ten years after the fact. Because, I think it would be good ammo when my girls are teenagers and don't think I am or ever was "cool". At that point I will blow the dust off the DVD, pop it in the player, and say, "See! See! Your mom was in a movie. Now, go clean your room."

I have never been one to understand the cult of personality or people's fascination with celebrities and all things Hollywood. Of course, I have my personal preferences, but they seem to be based more on being intrigued than starstruck. For example, Klaus Kinski or David Lynch or Crispin Glover or David Cronenberg.  So, when I got to stand right next to John Cusak, I was pretty calm. I didn't approach him. I kind of watched him out of the corner of my eye. Like you watch to see if a bird can figure its way out of a house through an open window. What was the most striking thing about John Cusak, besides being pretty tall? He smelled of Indian food, spicy. That's all I've got. Not really enough to phone Entertainment Tonight, huh?

Jump ahead ten plus years of the nose knowing. Ye know too much, my dear nose! I made sure I positioned myself nicely in reference to an audio speaker, in good view of the screen, and empty seats to either side. Toward the back row, of course. Suddenly, less than  fifteen minutes into the IMFAR conference introductions on the first morning, the seat beside me was pulled backwards. What the?!?!?! Well, that is pretty clever-- so you don't need to crawl over people, interrupting them. Then, it sat. The human flesh carrier of an overabundance of PERFUME AND POWDER! Good god, I thought. Are you kidding me, I beseeched. Wouldn't perfumes and colognes be ban at a conference on autism?! Apparently, no. The woman not only reeked of flowery scents so artificial that they would kill any true flora or fauna, but she looked like a huge powder puff. I am not trying to be unnecessarily cruel here. I was immediately distracted. I pulled my jacket collar up to my face. Deep breath, whew. I can do this, I encouraged myself. Something, somewhere is placing hurtles for me to overcome, I divinely rationalized. Then, she pulled out the BIG GUNS! Well, actually, a small travel sized bottle of baby powder. It applied a fresh dusting.  For God's sake! The inhumanity! Was she doing it on purpose? Then she flipped off her shoes. My aversion to other people's feet is a different blog entirely. My karma must have been fairly decent, or maybe I didn't mask my agitation as well as I thought. She moved after texting a bit and slipping her shoes back on. I don't need to  mention the breath of the person next to me during a later seminar. I think my point is clear.

I am not trying to be overly dramatic about these things. But, I am trying to show how sensitive, how overwhelmed, and how distracted I can get. I would rather smell the garlic someone ate last night wafting from their pores than someone' musky attempt of masking their own healthy odor. I would rather you stand next doused to me in sweat, then have you hang your jacket contaminated with perfume residue next to mine. I often don't want to hug close relatives because their perfume will get on my clothes. I would go as far as saying I know what my husband, children, and friends smell like. I try to focus more on scents I appreciate like wet dirt and cardamon. Sometimes, I will keep a cardamon seeds with me to diffuse adversesituations. It's all about coping mechanisms. There is some show on American television these days based on a Japanese game show. Contestants are placed in an over-sized, wet, moving, and loud obstacle course. This is as close as I can come to a suitable comparison to my day with my five sense. If they only made a helmet for that!