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Neurodiversity Awareness/Appreciation

Neurodiversity Awareness/Appreciation

Monday, September 1, 2014

40 Before 40

I was reading the blog The Fairy Princess Diaries,where Jordyn, the blogger, was posting about her 30 Before 30 list. For people unfamiliar with the idea, it is like a Bucket List, except it is things you want to do before you turn 30. 

I have already passed the big 3-0, believe it or not (I don't really believe it myself) but I thought I might try a 40 Before 40 list. This may be a hard list, because I have actually done many of the things I wanted to do. In my younger days I was much better at fighting my anxiety, and I was also a little more impulsive. If I wanted to do something, I did it. I kinda wish I could be more like that now! My younger self was so much cooler than me! 

I may end up borrowing some ideas from other blogs as I work on this. I'll give them credit if I do. Lets see now.

MY 40 BEFORE 40 LIST (in stream-of-conscious order) 

1. Become a foster parent
2. Become an adoptive parent
3. Learn to ride a horse
4. Learn to play an instrument (Drums???)
5. Have farm animals
6. Grow my own garden and use it for food
7. Learn to drive stick shift
8. Hold a koala bear (Borrowed from My Thirty Things)
9. Go zip lining on a REAL zip line (not one that is only ten feet over the ground and goes over a corn field at the Autumn Fest) 
10. Swim with dolphins
11. Find a REAL best friend
12. Visit another country. (I sort of visited Naussea once. Is that a country? I don't think so. I spelled it wrong. You pronounce it Naw-saw. Yeah. I was there for like four hours once. But it doesn't count.)
13. Learn yoga well enough to do it on a regular basis. (Borrowed from La Petite Noob.)
14. Finish writing my memoir. 
15. Own a house
16. Make amends with some former friends I cut off ties with (Borrowed from Personal Excellence
17. Fly first class (Borrowed from Personal Excellence
18. Ride on the tallest roller coaster in the world
19. Donate bone marrow
20. Stay in a tree house overnight
21. Stay in a haunted house (other than the one I live in now) overnight
22. Climb a wall
23. Pet a penguin (also pet as many animals as I can!) 
24. Ride in a big rig (Ironically, my dad drives a big rig, but his company's insurance policy won't allow riders.)
25. Get hypnotized (Borrowed from Bucket List Journey)
26. Be in the audience of a TV show. (Borrowed from Bucket List Journey.) 
27. Be ON a TV show.
28. Learn to speak Spanish well enough to converse with others. 
29. Do one of those three-day-long walk-a-thons
30. Go on a really long roadtrip with no particular destination. 
31. See Niagara Falls
32. Learn to build a camp fire
33. Go on some sort of volunteer trip. Like a mission trip but without the evangelizing part.
34. Volunteer helping homeless teenagers
35. Get "Tori Joy's Smiles" back up and running. 
36. Improve my credit score. 
37. Rescue a senior dog or cat.
38. Get really healthy. (But I am NOT giving up Dr. Pepper, so don't even say it!)
39. Stay in a 5-star hotel
40. Have a family reunion. In Manitowish Waters, WI. 

Okay, so that is my list! If I can accomplish all of those by the time I am 40, I will feel like I've lived life to the fullest!
Do you have any more ideas for me? I could always add them to my "50 before 50" list! 

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Butterfly Hugs

When I have anxiety attacks or severe depression, I tend to look like I am completely insane. You might see me rocking back and forth frantically (which is something I do on a less frantic level quite often, even when I'm feeling calm) while hugging myself, pounding or smacking my arms or the sides of my head, shaking my head, scratching my skin, and even, on one occasion, biting myself.

If you observed a small child doing these things, you may think, "Wow, that child must have autism and must be really overwhelmed!" (Many people would actually think, "Wow, that bratty kid is having a temper tantrum and needs a spanking." But I know most of my readers are pretty enlightened about special needs and would probably consider that there was something else going on besides just an overindulged child not getting her way.) Depending on how comfortable you are approaching a stranger, you might give the child's parent a sympathetic smile, and go about your business, or you might offer to help in some way.

Now imagine seeing an adult doing these things! What would you think? You might be afraid. You might think the person is on drugs. You might think the person has a severe mental illness and could be dangerous. You might call the police. And if the police also assume that the person may be dangerous, things could become dangerous for the person.

I'm not just writing this to point out to the public that an adult who looks like they're completely freaking out could be experiencing anxiety or sensory overload. I actually have a coping mechanism to share with you.

When I talked to my equine therapist, "Julie," about how severe my anxiety had been when I was about to move to Oregon, she pointed out that I seem to need a lot of sensory input. This can be true of a lot of people, not just those who have autism or sensory processing needs, but also people with anxiety disorders or PTSD. When you are in a state of high anxiety, you can actually start to feel like you're floating, or disappearing, or leaving your body, or dying. I don't know how to explain the feeling, exactly, but if you've experienced it you probably know what I'm talking about. For me, the smacking, scratching, rocking, etc, are ways of trying to get back into my skin and calm myself down.

Julie showed me a way of giving myself more gentle sensory input, in a way that will hopefully help me calm down instead of escalate, and also won't alarm the general public as much. It is called "butterfly tapping" or " butterfly hug."

I looked it up later, and I found a good video where the lady shows you two different ways of doing the butterfly hug, plus an alternative idea for if you feel self-conscious about butterfly hugging yourself in public. This can help adults, teenagers, and kids.


Julie also gave me the idea to give myself a pause button,  to let myself tune out everyone else who may be yelling or talking at me, and to just be aware of myself and what I am doing and feeling. You can actually push a spot on your body, like your nose, to activate your pause button. Unfortunately, others will probably not literally freeze in time and space, which is what I wish they'd do sometimes. So you just have to internally pause things, even by physically leaving the area to be by yourself if you have to. 

Our talk made me realize that I probably really need more sensory input in my life. I've always loved sensory input. When I was very small, I had a little rocking horse, and I would get that thing rocking like there was no tomorrow, to the point that it would actually sort of scoot across the room sometimes. And do you remember those mechanical animal rides that used to be in the fronts of stores? There were two in the front of Sears Outlet when I was little, a pig and a horse. I always rode the pig, which rocked very wildly. My little brother was not allowed to ride the pig, because it might catapult him off. He had to ride the much tamer and slower horse. But I loved that wildly rocking pig! Other things I loved were swinging on a swing (I could do it for hours) or a see-saw or glider, playing in sand, and jumping into the ball pit at Showbiz Pizza. 

My grandparents' house was in an unincorporated area, and they had no sidewalks. But there were rows of those small, white stones separating the road from the lawns. When we'd go for walks, I loved to walk in the stones, to hear the crunching sound under my feet. I was always begging someone to take me for a long walk. I'd even specify, "Can we go for a walk in the stones?" And I could have walked all day, if someone had let me. 

It is interesting how as a kid I instinctively knew to give myself sensory input. As an adult, I'm often concentrating too hard on appearing "normal," and forget that I still do need these things. The butterfly hug is a good way to get some sensory input in public... but sometimes I may need some stronger sensory input. Jumping into a swimming pool is an example that I mentioned to Julie. Except I don't usually have a swimming pool at my disposal. Does anyone have other ideas for this type of strong, whole-body sensory experience? 

That is all for today. I just wanted to share the Butterfly Hug with you guys. I hope it helps somebody!



Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Just One More Thing, And Then I'll Shut Up

 The past week has been a crazy one. If you have read my last two blog entries, you know that I found a job in Oregon and got very close to moving, but then had a huge series of panic attacks and couldn't go. And that the school offered to hold the job for me, but then several days later retracted their offer with no explanation

After writing that last post, I sent an email to the principal of the school asking if there was a particular reason for the sudden change, and reminding them that they had offered to hold the job for me and that I had been looking forward to coming. When I'd spoken and emailed with the principal earlier, she had sounded so enthusiastic about holding the job, saying that she thought I was such a great fit for the children there. So I just wanted to know... why the very sudden change of heart? 

The principal shot back a one-line email message: "We have decided to restructure the program in a way that changes our staffing."

It still makes no sense to me. They were so warm and welcoming before, only to withdraw the job offer in such a cool and impersonal way. And who just randomly restructures a program a week before school starts? A day after assuring me that there was going to be a substitute there for me until I was able to come? There has to be something else going on. 

One possible reason could be that they may have found this blog. I have taken a lot of precautions to keep this blog separate from my legal name, and have avoided even mentioning the names of the towns where I was having interviews, for this reason. But I just can't think of any other reasons for them to suddenly reject me, after all that! And if there was a reason, why couldn't they just tell me? How hard would it have been to say, "Uh, we ran your credit report, and we don't think you seem very responsible after all," or "One of your references told us they secretly think you are really stupid and annoying." Or whatever. Wouldn't that have been kinder than a cold, one-line email?

I would like to call them up and scream a huge "@#$% YOU!" for the hurt this has caused me. But that wouldn't be very professional, now, would it? 

So, instead, this is an open statement to the staff members at that school, and any others that might somehow find this blog. 

I have ADHD and Aspergers. I struggle with depression and anxiety. Sometimes, these conditions get in the way of my everyday life. However, they rarely, if ever, get in the way of my work with children. When I am teaching, I am at my best. 

My conditions also give me a special quality, as they allow me to connect with and understand children with special needs, in a way that many others cannot. I know first hand how these children and their families have to fight for everything. I care about each child as if he or she were my own. I try to be a role model, to show them that they can live a full life, even when their special needs sometimes hold them back a little. 

Your school works with many children with mental health diagnoses. I would hope that you would teach them to advocate for themselves, and to realize that they deserve everything that their more neurotypical peers deserve. And I hope that you, and the rest of the world, show those children more understanding and fairness than you showed me this week. 

I am hurt that I did not get the opportunity to prove what I can do. But if I really was rejected for the job based on what you read in this blog, then this school probably wasn't the best place for me after all. I'm going to move forward, now, and not look back. 


Tuesday, August 26, 2014

LifeSux

Guys, life is just knocking me down lately. I don't know what is going on. Every time I pull myself back up, something comes along and just kicks me in the throat.

So I wasn't going to write anything about this for a while, but I guess now I will.

After my complete nervous breakdown and my failure to move to E-Town, I had come up with another plan... I would try again, but more slowly. I was going to continue to look for jobs in Oregon, and meanwhile spend some time visiting my Auntie M and cousin BT so that I could get to know the area better and get to know E-Town. At the time I had already realized I wasn't going to have the job I was supposed to have, but there was some glimmer of hope that let me think I could find another job in the same area... or maybe go back and apply to that same job after a year or so.

And then it seemed like God gave me another chance. The people from my would-be job called me up and said they thought I would be such a good fit, that they would be willing to hold the job for me even until December. They would have a substitute until then.

I got so excited! I told them, yes, please hold the job for me! I was planning to go to E-Town and look around, get to know the area, see some apartments for myself, and even stop by the school to meet people there. I thought I could move out there in early November. This way I'd be able to come home for Thanksgiving after only a few weeks, and then there would be winter break, and by then I would be more or less assimilated. I told my mom and my aunt... we all agreed that this was some sort of sign that E-town was where I was supposed to be. It was a second chance! I was thanking God! I was vowing that I was going to do it right this time!

I even started making lesson plans. So that I would be ready, when I got there. Starting the lesson plans helped me to get excited about the school. I had this great unit started, for November, which would lead into Thanksgiving... we were going to learn about children around the world. We were going to write about what kids like to do, eat, play with, etc, in the USA, and then read stories about what kids like to do in other countries and cultures, and learn some games, art projects, words in other languages, etc. I was going to have the kids choose a country and do little reports about what life was like in that country (with a lot of guidance for the kids who couldn't read or write that well yet) It would end with a small cultural fair where the kids could show off everything they had learned, made, and done. There would have been a lot of reading, writing, geography, and social studies, involved.

 I thought of making a poster or a book of some sort about myself, to send to the school before I got there, so they could show the kids and the kids could get to know me. I was going to include pictures of my dogs and pictures of Chicago.

And then...

The principal sent me a text.

A text.

"I regret to inform you that we have decided to go in another direction with the teacher position and are withdrawing our offer. We wish you the best in your future endeavors."

That's it. No explanation, or anything. Just, cut off. 

I know I have no business even being sad, because I was the one who decided to turn down the job in the first place. But it was because I was sick! Anxiety and depression are sicknesses, and when they attack, they attack. When they offered to hold the job, I thought it was proof that I was going to be okay. Proof that I could recover and keep going. 

When I got the text, I cried. Harder than I even did when I was having straight anxiety attacks for three days in a row. I laid on my parents bed and screamed into a pillow with sobs that ravished my whole body. 

I am lost. I lose. 

I want to move to Oregon... I still do. And I really wanted to move to E-Town. I needed to do it more slowly than I tried to do it last week. As some people have pointed out to me, even a "normal" person could have had a nervous breakdown at the idea of having one week to find an apartment sight unseen, move across the country, and start a new job in a town they've never set foot in. And I've got Aspergers, dudes! We don't do well with changes... especially when we know almost nothing about those changes ahead of time! 

I know I will go eventually. Except maybe not to E-Town, now Maybe not near B.T. And probably not until next school year... at which point I will be in the same traumatizing position of trying to find a job in some random town and then being able to just pick up and move there at a moment's notice. And what do I do until then? Sub for another year? I hate subbing. It makes me feel like a ghost. 

When I think of that text, my whole body feels cold. I know it is my fault... I blew it. But then they gave me hope, only to rip it away from me in a sudden, cruel way. I wish I could take a break from existing. I feel hopeless and lost and alone. 

Sunday, August 24, 2014

A More Cheerful Post

Hi everyone! In light of my recent, somber posts, I thought I'd brighten things up a little bit. I am going to write a real post later, but for now, I will let you watch me dump a bucket of water on my head! I participated in the Ice Bucket Challenge. I actually did it twice, because I was nominated by two different people. I've edited out the people I nominated, for their privacy, and I've only left the important part... the dumping of the ice water.


I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did!

Friday, August 22, 2014

Broken Dreams Of An Alien

People with ADHD and Aspergers have poor motor planning. That means organizing your body to do a movement that isn't a habit. So, for instance, learning to play a sport. Learning how to make the exact movements you need to kick the ball as far as it can go or swing the bat the right way. This was why I hated it when my parents put me on a soccer team as a child. It was what all suburban kids were expected to do. I begged my parents to let me drop out, and they eventually did. It was also why I couldn't learn to ride my bike until I was almost eight. I eventually learned how to do it by sitting on it, running with it to get the wheels going (picture the Flinstones in their car) and then putting my feet on the petals while the bike was still balanced. 

My lack of motor planning was also evident when I was in swimming lessons, at around the same age. My brother and I both took swimming lessons at the local pool. Since neither of us had ever been in a swimming pool before, as far as we could remember, we both started at Level One. My brother took to it like a fish and quickly advanced to higher and higher levels. I stayed stuck on Level One. For several years in a row, I was on Level One. I mastered front glides and shallow water bobs. (I loved doing shallow water bobs. You basically just jump up and down in the water. I could do this for hours. It was stimmy. I also loved using a kickboard to swim around the pool, and I'd do this for hours too, even during public pool hours. My brother later told me that I'd be kicking and splashing all sorts of people, and they'd be turning around to yell at me or frown at me, and I'd just kick away obliviously.) But I could never do the actual swimming part. I couldn't coordinate my arms and legs and head to all do these different, specific moves that would keep me from sinking to the bottom of the pool.


One of the requirements to pass Level One was, you had to jump off the diving board. Not dive, just jump. I was terrified of this. Because I couldn't swim. I would land in the water that was over my head, and then I would surely drown. 


The young lifeguards teaching the class coaxed me and begged me. I cried. They promised that one of them would be waiting in the water to fish me out and bring me back to shore. I sobbed. I could not. I wanted to. I was embarrassed to be the oldest kid in Level One, and the only one who couldn't go off the diving board. I wanted to be like the other kids. I would convince myself that I was going to do it. I would get as far as the ladder, and start to climb up. Then I would freak out. I couldn't picture myself jumping off the diving board. It just didn't seem real. 


The exhausted lifeguards devised a plan that would help me pass Level One on a technicality. One of the lifeguards went up on the diving board with me. Another stayed below in the water. The first life guard picked me up and lowered me down, and the second life guard grabbed me. I was crying the whole time, afraid they'd drop me into that five-foot-deep abyss. 


Eventually I learned to swim well enough to keep myself alive for a few minutes... basically my own version of the dog paddle. I could thrash my way from one end of the pool to the other without drowning. And by the end of junior high, I was able to jump off the diving board. I even liked it. But I could never dive. Even now. I could never contort my body into the correct position to avoid a belly flop. 


Fast forward many years. 


I was all set to move to E-Town, Oregon. I had a job lined up. I had a temporary place to stay, with my cousin. I had mapped out the best way to get there in my car, and found inexpensive or free places to stay along the way. I had bought a crate for my dog and trained her to go into it, so that she'd have her own safe, familiar place no matter where we spent the night. (She sleeps with me in bed... but if I left the house or room for a minute, I would have put her in the crate, so she wouldn't feel so overwhelmed.) I told everyone I knew. I announced it on Facebook and got 30 "likes." I said goodbye to my little cousins. My neighbors made me a great gift basket as a going away present. My grandparents gave me money.

But then it was time to start packing. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. I would really be leaving. Forever. It would be months before I'd get the chance to hug my mom again. There would be no more sitting around the living room watching "Family Guy" or "Gun Smoke" with my dad, or keeping my mom company while she ran endless errands. All of my ordinary, day-to-day routines would be gone. I'd also be leaving Trixie, and separating her and Lily. and taking Lily away from everything that was familiar to her

I'd be getting a new, great life. I'd get to know my cousin BT, and see my Auntie M and Uncle J on a regular basis. I'd be able to visit Bro, Sunny and Squeak whenever I wanted to. I'd have my own apartment. I would be close to nature. I could hike, and swim in rivers, and visit the ocean. (But probably not swim in it much. The water stays pretty cold there.) But, although I knew all this, I couldn't really imagine it. It would all be new and unknown. 


I sat on the floor and bawled my eyes out, shaking and rocking. Any of you who have, or know someone who has, autism, understands what a "meltdown" looks like. It is not pretty. My Small Dog tried to calm me by putting her paws on me and licking me. When I managed to stop crying, and breathe right, I still felt panicky. My skin burned so badly, I thought for sure I had sunburn, even though I was still pale. My chest felt like someone was sitting on it. 


This went on for days. I would remind myself of all the great things awaiting for me on the coast. I would tell myself I would do it. Then I'd feel the walls melting away and the floor disappearing under me, and I'd be a mess again. 


I thought, maybe if I didn't have to drive all that way alone, I would be okay. So my dad took three days off of work so he could drive there with me. And I thought that would be great. But then the thought of saying goodbye to my dad... and then having to go to my new job an hour later... would overwhelm me, and I'd start to feel sick again. 


I couldn't eat. I took Tylenol PM to help me sleep. I wanted to go. I wanted to stay. My Auntie M promised that she would stay with me in E-Town until I felt comfortable. She told me I could always go home after a few weeks. My dad told me I couldn't... he would not drive me all the way there if there was a chance I would beg to come home two weeks later. 


My cousin BT told me to just come. It wasn't a big deal. I had family there. Just come. I wanted to. I wanted to see him. When we were kids, he was the best friend I had. (I probably wasn't his best friend. After all, we lived about ninety states away from each other, and only saw each other for a few weeks each summer. But he was the only kid around my age that talked to me and spent time with me and didn't make fun of me. Well, he did make fun of me... but like a cousin, not like the jerks at school. ) 


My brother ridiculed me for considering not going. He said if I didn't go now, I had better just accept the fact that I was going to live and die in Chicago. He asked me what I would do if a comet hit my house and killed my mom and dad. I told him I'd probably die too, because I'd be in the house with them. 


In the end, my dad and aunt were the lifeguards trying to carefully pass me off the diving board so that I wouldn't drown. But I was still terrified. To the point of being physically ill. I lost weight. Anxiety works better than aerobics. Eventually I crashed and burned. 


I never wanted to be the middle-aged, childless woman still living with her parents and following their rules. As a teenager, I assumed that by the time I was twenty-one I'd be living on my own and adopting a child. (I was somewhat right. I did live on my own by the time I was twenty-one, and I did unofficially adopt many children in the different places I stayed. But I never really ws able to live completely independently. I could never keep all of my ducks in a row at once.) 


Tanya Savko writes about getting her newly-adult son with autism into an independent living program. He gets to live like an adult, in an apartment, but also gets plenty of guidance and support, and has people to teach him how to do different things. Tanya writes, "His ever-expanding vocabulary belies him, as his emotional age has plateaued at around age 11 or 12, and he requires assistance." I don't require as much assistance as Nigel, but I probably did when I was 18. Unfortunately, at that time I was a wild little street kid. But that sentence reminds me a lot of myself. I am smart in my own ways. I learned to survive on the streets at a pretty young age. I learned to find the bright side of any situation. I am good at understanding children and animals. I am able to find creative and new ways of teaching children. I like to think and learn. Yet I am still afraid to go into the garage by myself (because there is obviously a ghost in there), I sleep with a teddybear at night, I cannot understand a lot of what people my age say and do, and I cry like a baby any time I am separated from someone I love. 


I hate the person I am. I hate that I could not do what I wanted so badly to do. I hate that, while parts of my brain are very smart, other parts are like a little kid who still needs her mama. 


My dream of moving to Oregon has died. But I don't want to say it is dead. It is in a coma. It is on life support. It needs help to breathe. But it is not dead. And there is still hope that I can revive it. Hopefully sooner than later.


Saturday, August 16, 2014

Update On My Impending Move!

I haven't written in a few days, and it is pretty much like a million years went by, with everything that has happened.

The last time we met, I was feeling a lot of anxiety because many things were up in the air. I was waiting to hear back about two different job possibilities, one in W-Town and one in E-Town. Although we collectively decided that it might be better to move to W-Town because I'd be closer to my aunt, fate did not agree with us. The job they offered me turned out to be something entirely different than I had wanted or interviewed for. They actually sort of tried to pull a fast one on me, because I had told them I was open to possibly doing the second job but that I preferred the first job. And they just decided to place me in the second job. So, yeah.

Meanwhile, the job in E-Town was emailing me, literally telling me that they wanted me to come! So I finally told them, yes, I would come.

So.

I haven't really managed to save up as much money as I had hoped, and I won't have enough money to get an apartment right away. Just getting out there is going to take up a lot of my savings. But I actually have a plan. I found this website where people will let you stay with them for a little while, in their spare bedroom or on their couch.

Before you say, "HOLD IT!", let me explain!

It is a pretty safe site. You can search among a lot of different people who are offering up their places. Some of them are "verified" through the site, and some of them have references. You can also use their full name and address to do a little background research on them. To me it is actually a little safer than renting a room, because you can preview the person ahead of time, and if you don't end up getting along, you can just leave.

I signed up, and I already got a place to stay for the first night of my road trip. The girl I will be staying with sounds very nice. She works with people with developmental disabilities, and has an Australian Shepherd!

So. Here is how it is going to roll. I have this week to try to tie up as many loose ends as possible. Then, on Friday, I will set out on the first leg of my journey. I am going to drive only 8 hours a day, in order to not burn out, since I don't have anyone to share the drive with me! Of course, my tiny sidekick, Lily, will be with me, too.

I will get out there by Sunday night or Monday some time. By then, I will hopefully have arranged a place to stay in E-Town. (I will probably either rent a room, or find another place to stay through that website.) On Tuesday, I will start orientation at my new job!

I don't know what I am going to do with Lily during the day time, yet. I am going to get a little crate and start training her to go into it for short amounts of time. The reason is, Lily has never really been home alone for any amount of time. And by alone, I mean, completely alone, with no other pets or anything. If I just leave her in a random new place all of the sudden, she may freak out! So I am going to try to make her crate her familiar place and have it out for her wherever we stay, so that she still has that safe little cave no matter what. And if I am allowed to at whatever place I end up staying temporarily, I will just crate her while I am at work. Not because she would cause any destruction, but just so she would feel safe and cozy in her little house. If I can't leave her home alone, I will have to put her in doggie daycare. I have already found one I like, and it costs $20 a day, which isn't too bad.

When I get my first paycheck, I will be able to strike out on my own and get my own place to stay!

As for anxiety, I think I have been using the wrong word. I really am excited for everything ahead, from the solo road trip, to meeting new people, to being closer to my aunt and uncle and cousin and also to my brother and sister-in-law and nephew, to my awesome new job. I am not fearful or apprehensive about any of this. But I am SAD about one thing... saying goodbye to my family here in Chicago. Including my other dog, Trixie, who is really my parents' dog. I am going to miss them all so much! The only thing that makes me feel better is telling myself that I will fly home every chance I get. I can't even think about it, or I start feeling panicky.

So anyways... this blog is about to take an exciting turn! You may want to keep on tuning in!

And now, because this is my favorite video in the whole world and I want one of these, go watch this!