Why All the Emmy Love for Temple Grandin Was Awesome

I need to interrupt my four cranky kids (8 days until school starts - YES!), two deadline copyediting assignments and my general WordNerdGirl-ing to take a sec and talk about all the love shown to -- and by -- Temple Grandin at last night's Emmy's.

Temple Grandin has long been a rock star in the autism community, and last night, she proved why. She's been a symbol of hope for people with autism and their caregivers (in some ways, even more so for the latter.) So seeing all the recognition for the HBO biopic chronicling her life, and all the affection heaped on her by the award honorees, didn't just honor her and the movie, but also gave a nod to everyone who has been affected by this disorder. (My 8-year-old is PDD-NOS. As the film's director described Grandin last night, he used many of the same adjectives I use to describe my son.)

But even more importantly, last night, Grandin also managed to dispel for millions of TV viewers one of the most hurtful and longstanding myths about autism: People with autism can feel love. They can show affection. And they are not just "autistics." They're people -- full and complete. Decked out in her quirky, country-western regalia, she enthusiastically (and in a "socially inappropriate" manner) stood and waved from her seat in the audience, interrupted one of the honorees to give a shout-out to her mom and -- most movingly -- effusively hugged the film's executive producer. She not only dispelled the myth that autistic people are withdrawn, but -- even for the most severely-afflicted -- she also showed that it is possible for autistic people to engage and contribute to the world, in ways big and small. And she did all that just by being herself.

Referenced links: Temple Grandin Wins Big at Emmy, but Who Is She?; Temple Grandin's Official Autism Website

My next house will be...

This House Made of Books on BoingBoing. I really have no other commentary other than AWE-SOME!

George Carlin: Rethinking a free speech icon

While catching up on everything I've missed over the last month, I found this tribute to one of my all-time favorite comics, writers, and truth-tellers, George Carlin. More than a recap of his career, the article focuses on Carlin's evolution as a comedian and his influence on free-speech in America.
Referenced link: George Carlin: Rethinking a free speech icon

Attack of 'The Thing'

Good-bye July 2010. May you never pass my way again.

I rebooted my blog a few weeks ago, only to have it derailed once again by a Thing. I cannot get into details about the Thing right now because it involves other people. But it is a big Thing. It has been -- especially the last three weeks -- an all-consuming, life-altering, soul-crushing (non-health-related) Thing, and it is going to take a long time to get through it, recover and move along. As time goes on, I will likely get into details about the Thing, but for now, let's just call it a Thing.

Since I've been faced with this Thing, I've been looking for ways to cope that don't involve hard liquor, binge-eating, the Dark Arts, major property damage, randomly screaming at unsuspecting strangers or calling a distant cousin to find out if he can help me hire someone "to take care of it" for me.

I don't know if it is because I am a writer or because I'm weird (and really, is there much of a difference?) but  so far, the best therapy has been over-sharing my drama in long, detailed emails to my closest friends and family. I started out writing to explain what happened, just looking to vent and for a shoulder to cry on via email. But without consciously realizing it, I was also writing my story, from my point of view and shaping the narrative so that it makes sense, both to me and my friends (who, at this point, are probably cringing every time they see another message from me in their inboxes.)

I've also, in a way, become a character in my story. (Hopefully, by the time story is over, I'll be "the hero," but that remains to be seen. I certainly don't feel like one right now.) I've been thinking a lot about some of my favorite fictional characters and, when depressed, overwhelmed or if I suddenly find tears welling up at inappropriate moments, I try to get through it by channeling the sexy confidence of Joan Holloway, the free spirit of Mona Ramsey, the hilarious spunk of Mary Richards, the kick-ass sense of duty of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the fuck-it-all-I'll-do-it-myself action hero attitude of Lt. Ripley in "Aliens."

By doing something I love to do anyway, I'm coming up with ways of finding my long-lost mojo. If nothing else -- as I've already said to my friends -- this situation has been a goldmine of comedy. I've lost 10 lbs. in three weeks on the High Anxiety Diet. If Richard Pryor can set his head on fire and turn it into one of stand-up comedy's greatest performances, I should be able to -- at the very least -- get a book deal out of this.

I came across a quote a couple of weeks ago (that I have since been unable to find). The gist of it was: people read and tell stories because it helps them practice how to live their lives. Not to get all self-help-gooey and group-huggy, but it is my favorite stories that have helped me through so far, and retelling my own in a way that is helping me see all the possible endings. So I will write, and read, and watch, and deal. And the Thing is not going to stop me.