Please Block NHS Choices From My Phone

Having a cold at 20:

"Ahh, I'll take some Beechams, maybe chill for a day, but I'll just carry on. Isn't my red nose funny? What's a smartphone?"

Having a cold at 30:

"I'm dying. I'm going to sneeze/vomit my brains up. I have a brain tumour/Addison's/fetus/MS/some sort of blood parasite. WebMD told me."

#NotHypochondriajustGoogleeducated

A Problem Must Always Be Solved

Part of what comes along in the aspie way, is a very strong need to solve any problem that presents itself. Immediately. For example, if I remember I have a book I'd like to skim through for something and can't find it immediately, I will spend around two hours tearing through my flat to find it. The Boyfriend needed sweatpants the other day to chill in and even once he'd put on jeans, I couldn't settle until I'd located said sweatpants, even though he wouldn't be wearing them.

So I have this obsessive/compulsive streak. This proved to have disastrous consequences last night.

Twelve years ago I had my eyebrow pierced and happily, it never grew out. Eighteen months ago I had it taken out by a piercist (I was having a MRI scan soon) who said as I'd had the piercing that long I could easily go three months before it started to close up.

Since then, I've had my piercing in and out, but this time it was out for around six weeks. I tried for ages to get the bar through and wound up giving myself a NEW piercing. I basically forced this tiny bit of metal through my own head, all because I've 're-pierced' before and refused to stop until the job was done. Or it goes wrong and can't be done. 

So, old piercing more or less healed, but aggravated, and an angry new divet in my head. I look like Pinhead.

Luckily the nice people at Holier Than Thou gave me good advice and now have to use healing oils on my perforated eyebrow and then get the original piercing re-done when it's better. All because I have the compulsive need to complete tasks.

And yes, it hurts.

A Surprise In The Inbox

I wrote this email, not expecting a response:


Friday 20 February 2015

"Dear Mr [Chuck Palahniuk's agent],

I hope this email finds you well.

I apologise for writing with a 'fangirl' question, but I wondered if you may be able to answer this for me.

I have read that Chuck Palahniuk prefers to sign prosthetic limbs rather than his fans as people were then getting the signature tattooed. I also read that a possible reason for this is the worry of Sharpie ink entering the skin. I know someone who has a signed letter from Chuck. Would he still discourage his signature from that as a tattoo for them?

Also, I've been a fan of Chuck Palahniuk since I was a teenager and am now 30 and still follow his work. Seeing him read in the UK at the International Anthony Burgess Foundation (and listening to him read 'Romance') was possibly the highlight of my year. I'm looking forward to 'Make Something Up'.

With best wishes, 

SK Harrison"


Sunday 22 February 2015

"Dear Ms. Harrison,

Can you let us have your mailing address as Mr. Palahniuk would like to send you a gift.

Thank you.

[Chuck Palahniuk's agent]"

Wahooo!!!!

A Day Crunched Over The Netbook

Today I had to wait in for two viewings at my flat. Neither arrived. So I cracked on with some distraction so I didn't feel on edge about plans being changed.

Wrote: 
a chapter featuring a school reunion, a barman, and a blowjob;
transcribed a friend's interview that at 22 minutes ran to 3,500 words;
yet another job application...although it's not due for three weeks.

Picked up a book that may just make me laugh, as I'm hoping it's sassy and not soppy.

If not, then I have this to balance me out:

Nip And Tuck

"The first draft of anything is shit."

- Ernest Hemingway

I know, I know. Once a draft is done, it is recommended that you leave it to ferment, compost down. Give it a few weeks of being ignored. But I can't resist adding a bit there, cutting a bit there. It's like I'm stuck in the story I made up.

Doesn't that sound pretentious? But it is 3.02am...

Public Displays Of Emotion

It is reaching the point where leaving the flat on my own, even to the local shops is proving very difficult. So much so, that it takes me hours to pysch up to it. So, I thought a Tuesday afternoon in town with The Boyfriend doing fun things would be some welcome relief.

Uncharacteristically, it was me that refused to get out of bed in good time. I did not want to go out. But we got to town and saw Big Hero 6, which we'd been dying to see. That was when we realised it was half term. The shopping centre was completely packed. Got through the film fine, but quickly my brain was losing its filter. I was taking in relevant and irrelevant information until I started to feel queasy. We went round a few shops, but Sports Direct finished me off. Too many furrows of clothes, not in a good system, and I started to overheat and had the urge to cry. I told The Boyfriend I had to get out for a bit. I was hand-twisting outside with a drink and then finally we could go home. It took hours for me to come back to an even keel and I hated that on one of The Boyfriend's days off he ended up basically being my carer. 

I am now stuck with the dilemma of knowing that staying indoors all day will drive me crazy, because I can hear every single noise inside and out, but if I go outside I'm faced with hundreds of people that I can't decode.

Managed to get out today to see friends, but it was a very anxious affair. Diazepam barely works anymore, my sleep cycle is back to front and I feel like I have to solve every problem immediately.

The funny thing is, to most people they wouldn't spot a problem as I'm so good at 'passing'. It's only when the hand movements start that someone knows something's up.

Kate Middleton's Pledge

Okay, Kate Middleton, let's talk. How much money are you prepared to lay down to train and pay for school psychologists, counsellors, bigger CAMHS teams, and age-appropriate wards?

Talking isn't enough. The system needs a cash injection and a culture overhaul. 

The Supermarket Wars

I have started doing something that many people who don't drive (or like me, don't like going outside very much) do: online shopping. I opted for a 1-Hour Slot to keep waiting down to a minimum. 

At 9.01am I received a text:

"I'm sorry to let you know that due to technical issues at store, your Home Shopping order that is due for delivery is currently running late by 2 hours. We understand making other arrangements at short notice is inconvenient. We do everything we can to deliver to our customers on time. Our apologies for any inconvenience this may have caused.

Kind regards

Asda Home Shopping Team"


I was unhappy. And being British, I have been blessed with the art of "making a fuss".


"You texted at 9am to say deliveries are  running up to 2 hours late.

That means that potentially I now have to stay in until 2pm. I paid for a ONE HOUR SLOT. How will Asda make this up to their customers? I am currently eating Nutella from the jar with a spoon as I have no other food in.

NB my partner works at Tesco so I know what 'technical issue' means: driver called in sick/site crashed/you didn't fill up on petrol/half of the items have to be substituted.

Also, your site has a number of broken links in the Contact section with no email address and I had to run a Google search to find this form.

Kind regards

Stuck Indoors, Manchester"

NB. I have absolutely no idea what "technical issues" means. I just wanted to piss them off. Tesco gives lovely service. 

And I Never Even Named It

I would be lost without this little guy. It goes everywhere with me so that I never have to worry about losing it or having it stolen. It has years of my work on it.

Sadly, he is nearly full. Time to upgrade to a 64GB.

Just Jump

So....I sent a covering letter, synopsis, and sample of the book to a very good literary agency. Fuck it. Enough playing in the shadows and playing 'What If'.

Got my automatic response, so at least it's in an inbox somewhere:

"Many thanks for your submission to [...], we are looking forward to having a read! Due to the large number of submissions we receive every day, it may be 6-8 weeks before you hear back from us with a response.

With best wishes

The [...] Team"

Six-to-eight weeks to find up if it's thumb's up or thumb's down. I'll find something to do. Read, perhaps.

If No Ideas, Shop

When you have handed over a book for people to read, you want to keep writing, but I tend to need a few days to reboot and find a new idea.

At times like this, I shop. 

I found this beauty on etsy.com from JLarsons.

https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/JLarsons

Whoo...

My most successful work to date...an 10+ year old Amazon review. FFS...

Review of JTHM by Jhonen Vasquez

"Black has never been so dark"
- 25 Aug. 2004

Where can you start with this? Jhonen Vasquez has proven himself to be a formidable presence in the alternative comic market and with good reason. His work is both terrifying and hilarious...trust me, it's possible.

The surreal, dark and exceptionally twisted Johnny inhabits a small world in his mind that has been skewed by something in his past - what it is we don't know and as insensitive people, we don't much care. Because of this Johnny has developed a nasty habit of torturing and killing the majority of people he comes into contact with - people who kick his chair at the cinema, people who 'gotta have a smoke' and any person that could actually love him. Scratch that; it's people in general. 

The only person exempt from his onslaught is Squee, his highly-traumatised-only-weighs-as-much-as-a-cheeseburger-neighbour, who despite Johnny's efforts to watch out for him always ends up psychologically scarring him. Tragic, no? Not only that, but Johnny is often suicidal, but even this is funny - 'It's such a beautiful night...I think I'll kill myself.' or when he attempts to commit suicide, fails and then is rescued from his depression by a dioreahha [sic] advert on TV.

The artwork is a dense geometrical black and white labyrinth, with the panels not in conventional rows and columns, all the more adding to the insanity that is Johnny. Also, what makes the artwork so alluring is the way the panels are drawn in the style of camera angles as opposed to traditional forward-facing comic characters.

The stories are a mixture of horrific levels of violence and Johnny's insightful soliloquies where he tries to justify his actions, the main one being that there is a 'thing' behind his wall and if he doesn't keep the wall wet with blood the 'thing' will get out and do more damage than Johnny ever could.

Whilst this could be a recipe for a bad blood-soaked comic that's only good for lighting the fire, Vasquez has an explosive sense of humour that makes you burst out laughing even when disembowelling his one and only fan. Vasquez has created a complete universe of death, torture and Frooty Pops that is perfect to curl up with on a Sunday afternoon. No, really, it'll make you smile!

18 of 19 people found this review helpful

Collaboration

Last night, unable to sleep, I hit upon a non-fiction idea that could be done with a close writer friend. We already have all the material, just needs scanning and editing. 

A pitch has been made to a small publisher. We'll see if they're interested in us...

The Art Of Stimming

If there is one part of being on the spectrum that is guaranteed to make you look "disabled" it is stimming.

Stimming is characterised as repetitive movements that are either triggered by anxiety/stress or a need for sensory input. It can be quite soothing. Examples include hand-twisting, hand-flapping, finger-flicking, rocking, humming, or thumping/slapping a part of the body. This is not an exhaustive list.

Something that I have noticed only recently is my tendency to hand-twist when I'm overwhelmed. And yes, it happens in public.

I was waiting by the side of a road, already stressed from navigating a large supermarket and now faced with crossing the road. I was trying to judge the traffic and my hand-twisting became so extreme that a bus driver looked at me and stopped the bus so I could cross, probably because I looked "disabled" and needed assistance getting across the road. Note: city buses do not stop just to let someone cross a road except at traffic lights.

My friends rarely see it as I'm not usually stressed around them. But The Boyfriend has and once I've started it's like I'm locked in a repetitive cycle and will need hands-on support to stop it, such as holding my hands firmly or bear-hugging me.

If I'm on a bus and feel the need for sensory input, I am always extremely tempted to start banging my palms against the window. It's an almost overpowering urge. Maybe it's too quiet. Maybe it's too loud. Maybe my brain is itchy. This action would stop the bus and an ambulance/police would probably be called. So I have to sit on my hands and press my head against the glass instead.

I have a point.

If you see someone making repetitive movements or trying not to make them, don't write them off as stupid or insane. It is serving an important need and we really don't need comments like, 'Look at that retard on the bus.'

It's Done

The novel is complete. 

Pause for commemorative moment of bafflement that I did it. Probably because there's a deadline creeping up and I'd kick myself if I missed it.

So. Getting feedback at the moment from some readers and nibbling my nails.

How does it feel to have finished?

A bloody relief. Now I can start on something new. And begin the cycle of antisocial behaviour and window-gazing once more.

Not a lot else to say. Other than I recently had some wonderfully artificially coloured ice cream that made me so happy I had to take a picture. 

Bit sad, really.

Things I Have Learned Today

1. The word for someone who is half European and half Japanese is hāfu. The original word was ainoko. In the 1950s konketsuji replaced both words because of prejudice, but hāfu seems to be the most widely used word today. 
2. What the ingredients are for a Silk Stocking cocktail.
3. What the statistics are for someone to have both red hair and blue eyes. 
4. The word corprophagia, a form of Pica. Pica is the compulsion to eat inedible objects. Corprophagia is eating faeces. 
5. That Dale Cregan, the one-eyed murderer from Manchester who killed PC Nicola Hughes and PC Fiona Bone, is currently at Ashworth Secure Hospital. He is there on hunger strike, alongside Ian Brady.

V Day Is Coming...Shit

Sally: Hey you guys, why is everything so red on Valentine's Day? I mean the greeting cards, and the candy, even the tire ads.

Dick: Well, red represents the blood that was spilled at the massacre.

Harry: Massacre?

Dick: Yeah, the St. Valentine's Day massacre. It's a very big deal here on Earth.

- Third Rock From The Sun

There are three days to go and so far all I've got for The Boyfriend is a card. I don't like all of the saccharine teddies and boxes of chocolates for sale. It just isn't us. Should I get him something he really wants, like a Xbox One game? Or do something classed as soppy? Hard part is that he's much better at present shopping than me. 

Rather than a day celebrating romance, I would prefer Oxytocin Day, celebrating the hormone that allows you to feel love, bonding, and orgasm. That makes more sense to me than romance. It feels more real to me. 

There's a lot of pressure to 'do' something special for Valentine's Day. I love him every day. I tell him every day. What more can I do on the 14th?

So, I shall ponder on on what to buy The Boyfriend. We have both said that our anniversary means much more to us, so hopefully this day will be a quiet affair without too much gooey eye contact but with sex. A lot of sex.

Going Lowbrow

Literary novels with themes of family, relationships, mortality, personal exploration, and quiet emotions get reviewed in The Guardian and are included on university reading lists. Odd speculative fiction sort of goes underground and doesn't often appear in WHSmiths, but is very fun to write.

I write this based on feedback I had from someone about a short story I knocked out and also the first six thousand words of my current novel in progress:

"[...]when I was reading your short story with the lovely/grosse [sic] worm and time in hospital that was tonally [sic] like reading a literary book. The introduction of humour / fantasy in that world would have been brilliant, but it would have still remained a literary book because it was so well grounded whereas this one [current work in progress] feels like a comic fantasy novel which I reckon is a shame if you can do the other one."

I actually like the idea of a comic fantasy novel. I like silliness juxtaposed against horror a.k.a. tragicomedy. I like comic books. I like things like Kick Ass, JTHM, Ghost World, The League of Gentlemen, Psychoville, and Jasper Fforde's books. Is that 'low' fiction compared to literary fiction?

So, go with gut or go with highbrow? 

It Doesn't Have To Be A Doorstop

For many years I have driven myself on to write big books. It seems only fair that if someone is going to pay £7.99 for it, they should be able to feel its weight.

However, during my learning in creative writing, I was told my work needed to be more economical; less of the 'purple prose'. This now makes me think my writing is too pithy. 

But a Google search has happily revealed 5 great books that didn't even crack the 50,000 word mark (60,000 is usually considered the threshold for a novel). Behold:

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

This has made me feel much more relaxed and can start ignoring my word counter. 

A Dear Friend

This block of pages has kept me going for at least ten years. Thanks to Instagram, you may not be able to see that it is stained with dust, nicotine, and fingerprints...

Reading List For When I'm Not Scribbling

Goodhouse by Peyton Marshall

Hollow City by Ransom Riggs

Sex Criminals: One Weird Trick by Matt Fraction and Chip Zdarsky 

Thirteen by Tom Hoyle 

The Romance Of Rejection

Advertisement

Socially Awkward Writer Seeks Agent / Publisher To Validate Life Choices

I believe I have all the characteristics needed to be a bestselling author:

I obsessively re-read rejection slips.
I don't sleep much.
I eavesdrop at parties and on buses.
I want to win The Booker Prize, but almost always loathe the winners. 
I have a stationery fetish.
I collect 'How To' writing guides.
I politely stalk my favourite authors online.
I know the Underground quite well, because you're all based in London, right? 
I have too many tattoos to get a 'proper' job.

In exchange for getting me a book deal, I can guarantee I will deliver prose peppered with obscenities, themes of sex and death (because that's what you like, right?), stupid jokes, and almost always a kitten. If you give me a nice advance, I can take you out for dinner. Do you like KFC? If you need bone marrow I have some I'm not using.

Contact: SK Harrison @ The Blanket Fort, This Flat Will Have A Bluee Circle Outside It One Day, Speculative Street, Manchester. 

Operation TINA

Adult life is not what I imagined when I was a teenager. I have been Sectioned 13 times, been addicted to alcohol, and seen way too many deaths. But I also have two degrees, a wonderful boyfriend, and have spoken out on BBC Breakfast about mental health. 

My life is currently pending. I am unemployed, but have a job interview soon. I am working on a novel, but have been rejected from every competition and magazine I have submitted to since I graduated (one magazine, Black Static, has, to date, rejected me 5 times). The Boyfriend and I are looking for our first place together and I'm waiting to see if I get funding for a diagnostic assessment for Asperger Syndrome. He is a great artist and I want to be a great writer. 

Things I Like:

Writing

Reading

Tattoos

Rubber duckies

Deep pressure

Unusual facts

Medical information

Pepsi Max / Diet Coke

Japanese culture

Comic books

Things I Don't Like:

Fish

Green food

Bronze coins

Eye contact

Light touch

Insomnia

Headaches

Change

I spend a lot of time on Facebook. I don't call my friends or family enough. I have collected every personal letter I have ever received since I was a child. I have 15 tattoos. I fractured my skull at 11 weeks old. I'm barred from entering the USA. 

Until I met The Boyfriend I succumbed easily to peer pressure. This is part of the Asperger's way. You do things you think might be wrong, but do them because social convention is all about fitting in. I've been trying to fit in all my life, with limited success. This is called 'passing'.

I struggle with personal care, managing money, bright lights / colours, noises, eye contact, and not being obsessive. For example, I struggle every day to overcome an entrenched ritual that I cannot leave my home more than once a day unless with somone. I do constant checks when I'm leaving the flat and when out and about. I get upset if I'm away from the flat for more than 3 days. I do a lot of things in 3s. I can spot small details, but miss the big picture. And when agitated I bang my head or thump my chest. My emotions are not well integrated and I struggle to understand my own and other people's, particularly when they are meant to link up. I don't know if I feel true empathy, except perhaps with The Boyfriend. If my friends or family cry I don't really feel the reflecting emotion. I act like I do, but I don't feel it. I can understand people's thoughts on a cerebral level. Is that a type of empathy?