Annalyn is....happy?

Today....actually hasn't been that bad. I've got a little glimmer of a smirk that I'm keeping tucked way down inside of me. Again, this is one of those things that I can't go into detail on quite yet. Not many things worse than expressing joy over something and then realizing that you were mistaken, and then the words that have been said can never be erased. Granted this is a blog, and I can say or "unsay" whatever I want to. I just don't want to get too excited over a potential blessing. Well, I'm off to go play Epic Battle Fantasy 3 and attempt to kick it's butt. Wish me luck?

Yogi Bear, and THe Muffs

I watched the Yogi Bear movie today, and I must say, it was pretty bad. Graphics were okay, but the story line was indesribably predictable. I knew exactly how the movie was going to end about 5-7 minutes in. I need something to shake off all of the numbness that's really starting to get to me lately.

This song is pretty cool. I really started paying attention to it a couple days ago, and it's super catchy.            

Annalyn ranting on her life, and the possibility of Asperger's

I consider this past week a victory. I look forward to my visit with the psychologist to discuss testing for Asperger Syndrome.

I have always known I was different. I would much rather organize a set of information or categorize things in intricate detail rather than use my imagination and play with dolls as a child. I remember I was captivated with collecting those small plastic animals, and organizing them in different ways. I would put them in a line of favorite to least favorite, most/least colorful, height, width, animal type, you name it. I would retype entire animal encyclopedia pages of information in Microsoft Word in a very repetitive and precise way for hours on end, thoroughly amused . I even tried to type the entire dictionary in my alternate language I created. Even now, I do latch hook (one of my favorite pastimes besides drawing/writing/music), and am chuggin along on a project in which I have to tie tens of thousands of knots on a large canvas. I never wanted to "pretend", "play house", or any other make-believe environment not totally controlled by me with lots of the other girls. I would be much more likely to do something very rule-based, or all alone than imaginative and collaborative.

I was always different in grade school. I took 6-8th grade spelling words in 1st grade, rather than learning all of the simple words like "candy", "mother", or "crazy". I don't have any recollection of learning basic spelling tricks, it's like I've always had them. I scored way higher than average on state testing, one of the few things that challenged me. I wasn't always the student with the highest grades, simply because I didn't feel challenged with most of the school work, so I wouldn't really try my best. I loved the competition aspect of school, and the constant need to be the best I could be. I never learned basic studying skills, because I never had to study.

I obviously have quite a bit of social anxiety.  Once the cliques started to form, i began to withdraw. I wanted all of the people I called "friend" in kindergarten to stay friends with me, regardless of silly things like how you look, what sport you play, or what kinds of hobbies you have. I didn't really fit in seamlessly with any of the stereotyped "groups", so I would hover from group to group in search of some common ground. Subconsciously taking this difference of interests as rejection, I began to withdraw even further. I kept (and still have) one very very close best friend, a few nice friends who had remotely similar interests, and a huge pot of people falling into a category that I didn't relate to, or feel welcomed by. Close enough to know their name, but certainly not close enough to invite to a social event, or anything like that. I would go to parties and sit by myself just watching people talk, and be okay with it. Sure, I felt alone, but I'd rather feel alone that have to exhaust myself trying to come up with small talk that makes me irrationally nervous and frantic.

I really enjoy watching other people interact. I'm not good at knowing when to add to a conversation, so I would take myself to a large group setting where I didn't feel the need to contribute on a regular basis. I was perfectly content watching other people talk. I could laugh at their jokes, hear the latest gossip, and develop a "strictly business" relationship with people, without having to have much in common with them personally. I remember writing page upon page upon page of songs, poems, and some basic philosophy to express myself. I could mimic the emotion of someone on paper without ever feeling that way. I recall writing a first-person poem about being a girl whose father died in a war. I, at that point, had never lost anyone close to me. I didn't know what it felt like, but I could imply how it must feel, and the pen met paper. I read it at a poetry reading, and got a perfect score. Perhaps they thought this was a story of my life. I certainly looked distraught, what with my quivering voice and my hands and knees shaking so bad behind that podium you'd think there was an earthquake.

I am also very numb to many feelings lots of teenage girls have. I don't get emotional about most things. In most categories I simply do not care which way the wind blows, so long as each way's outcome has the same positive or negative effect. The only time I really cry is when someone/thing dies or I am in excruciating pain. I'm good at masking my feelings in a passive way. If you say something that offends me, I almost certainly will not question you about it. If someone cut in front of me in line, I wouldn't say anything to them. I am good at shutting out frivolous annoyances, and seeing how purposeless lots of society is. When you ask someone "Hello! How are you?", how many times do you truly care what they say? How many times would you be willing to stay there and honestly listen to how they are doing? Whenever asked a small talk question like this, I almost certainly will say the quickest, easiest answer to get me out of the situation, regardless on the truth behind the statement.

In summary, I have always known I think differently than those around me. Perhaps that's why the solipsistic theories fascinated me so much. Though I certainly doubt this conclusion is accurate, it certainly described the way I felt at most times in my life. So with this blog post I hope to let you know that I am different, and I am proud of it. Though not tested, I am pretty sure I have this syndrome. I also want to let you know that I apologize if I ever made you feel awkward, because that is certainly not my intention. I am not mentally handicapped, just rewired differently than most people.

When in doubt, draw a chibi!

I really miss having a social life. I miss hanging out with people, talking about the latest school drama or viral video. I miss that obnoxious squeeze hug you sometimes get from an over-enthusiastic friend that may or may not have guzzled down an entire Monster before heading to school. I miss the stupid inside jokes, the people who have your back....just people. I miss people. But I'm too shy to make new friends, and I'm always afraid that I'm bothering someone if I text them too much, so I wait. I haven't talked to any of my friends who don't have a Facebook since 8th grade. I can't stand this confinement, yet I know it's what's best for me right now. I simply can't live with a normal schedule, because I am not a normal person. I can't be relied on like most people can be. I'm spontaneous, hit-and-miss, maybe even a little lazy. I'm looking forward to a fresh start when I go to my homeschool/private school hybrid next year. I sure hope I find some people to click with there, and that they aren't all stuck up and fake. There I go again, sterotyping private schoolers.

Anywho, I am actually making leaps and bounds in my social skills online, at least. I like the randomness on the internet, and the way you can interact with someone so very far away. The only bad part is really the creepers, and trust me, there are quite a few. You just gotta know when to hold back. I've got a back-up persona, in case there's a creeper out and about. I'm pretty good at spotting a liar, because I over-analyze everything. And of course the fact that I am a ninja at making sure somebody's bio checks out alright, using muhh skillz. I even felt so inspired to draw this loverly image of a conversation I had on Omgpop.com last night. Do not ask me what is happening in the photo, it would only disturb/confuse you. It was my first attempt at drawing something chibi-like. I'd give it 3 stars.

Happy St. Patrick's Day?

I would wear my "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" socks today, but:
1. I am not going to see anyone today. At all.
2. Those socks are very itchy.
3. Last time I wore those socks, some random chick asked if she could kiss me. I obviously declined on that strange, strange offer.
So I will have to be prepared that some sky ninja leprachaun may bust a hole in my roof and try to pinch me. KEE-YAWWWW!

Inspiration Desensitizing?

Lately I've been lacking a sense of inspiration. Not just artistic inspiration, but any general motivation to do anything at all. You see all these wonderful stories on the news and internet about how people find themselves, or feel as though they have some sort of calling. They rebound from the issues in their life and become better because of it. They battled a disease and won. They escaped from a tragic natural disaster, and live on in memory of those who died.

I don't really feel that. It's like I'm just here. Alive. Existing. Looking for a skill to aid me in my destiny. I haven't had that one life changing moment that shocks you back into reality.

Is it possible that we can become unappreciative of miracles, due to constantly hearing about them? Any time there's some poem or song or short story that is supposedly really moving to other people, I can accurately predict the ending without really feeling the persons perspective. After all, who is going to write a story about a little girl with cancer who dies? An orphan who couldn't find his parents? A broken woman who doesn't find true love, the prince on the white horse to carry her off into a shining sunset filled with little birds chirping, and the townspeople cheering them on? It just doesn't happen. There are so many publicized miracles that they really don't impact me any more. Just another happy ending to me.

I wonder if I will ever escape this numbness? Though it keeps me from being overly influenced by the media (thank heavens), it also makes me feel heartless and empty.

WHOA What Made Me Think Of You Guys??

     WHAZAPP! The psycholicious mama is back from the internet grave! (I love the way NOBODY reads this and I'm practically talking to myself...)
A few new things have happened:
- New youth minister who has the capability of coordinating potentially fun outings and the like.
- Messed up, then fixed, and then re-messed up my sleeping habits.
- Getting three little rat boys next week (Braxton, Morris, and Bing! [or perhaps Theo...])
- Got my hair re-layered, as if you even cared...
- Became obsessed with omgpop.com.
- Has participated in intense philosophical conversations on omgpop.com.
- Found a stash of humorous poems, songs, doodles, and prose I've written over the years dating back to about 3rd grade.
- Experienced a surprisingly low amount of childish drama (then again I've experienced a surprisingly low amount of anything, because I leave my home even less than I used to.)
- Caught a cold that is keeping me up late at night.
     Lately, my memory has been failing me more than usual. At least my stomach is somewhat less aggitated than it usually is. I can proudly call my self a semi-expert at music knowledge referring to Regina Spektor and Anna Nalick now. Heck, throw Cage the Elephant in that mix as well.

     Well, I'm just really congested so I can't sleep and something made me think of updating this skeleton of a page. No promises I will return, but I'll try to. It's a dark, sad day when you realize one of your favorite bloggers/youtubers or whatever ceases to create their art. I shall try my best to keep you all informed of my life, though it will certainly not be as frequently as before. TTFN.