Autism is no mere ignorance. It is an achievement. There is much learning and memorizing involved to perfect autism. This learning is beyond the world of history and mathematics where one just has to learn what every one learns - formulas and names of battle heroes. Perfecting autism is by far a journey of an explorer. I explored right from the beginning.

When I was beginning to categorize my memory, smelling on the starched white table cloth corners at a doctor’s traditionally decorated office in India, where white ironed creases of the table cloth had captivated my vision, I realized I needed to rise up to the moment. I rose up to explore.
Since I was getting a label anyway, what did I have to lose?

I went across the room and picked up a thing or two like paper weights and clips to inhale their ‘out of the world’ smells. Vision is cognitive; smelling is limbic. Smell creates a mood and you smell once more. Emotions evolve and you remember. Never mind the emotions! At least you remember those creases and the smells.

One memorizes the smells better than sight. I will never be in a limbo if I smelled starch again. That day I was given a diagnosis. As the Pope coronated Charlemagne The doctor coronated me with a whole world. ‘He is in his own world!’
I was supposed to be in a world of my own.

And I memorized straight lines and creases. I lined up my toys as part of my duty to organize them in a system. I traced the corners of the walls to perfection.

In a time called ‘meanwhile’, I was happy to be as ignorant - as those simple unidimensional creases and lines. Don’t even tell me there are plane two dimensional surfaces. Then one day I learned about chaos.

We were passengers of a train taking us from Mysore to Bangalore. I was focussed that day, gravitating all the possible points of the world at that newspaper crease - the familiarity of the line, the backbone, the meridian - separating printed this side of the paper from that side of the printed newspaper. I was waiting for the man sitting in front of me in the train whose face never mattered to me, to finish reading it and fold it along that crease. The train moved with gentleness.
Then he got up abruptly, grabbing the pages in the carelessly managed manner and left the train at the next station. The creases were ignored - as if there was nothing called folding the paper along the crease! I had to get up to follow that newspaper. ‘Where are YOU off to?’ Mother put me back on the seat. ‘We don’t get off here. We have an hour left’. That day I learned there is more chaos and nobody actually has anything to lose. I lost interest in lining up my toys after that.

Once I learned chaos I recognized it everywhere. In the randomness of airports, people’s dialogues and in the great American special education system. But I am not here to detail every chaos. This essay is about the awareness of entropic journey towards perfection.

Generations of doctors have given names to the human differences to create some kind of organized category. There are some children displaying certain traits of repetitive movements and focussed interests. They ought to have a diagnosis. A diagnosis, after all - helps in the reduction of human dignity. My focussed interests evolved from one thing to another.

I was studying the reflection of the light on this specific door knob - how light converged in that central point with diminished deformity. The humiliation of that reduced outcome of reflection was a parody towards all that external properties of light.
There was much to lose. All the luminosity of the glowing bulb was reduced by several lux, lost in the understanding of a brass door knob. Polishing up the door knob wouldn’t glow the reduced reflections.
That day I learned the final chapter - what can one expect out of door knobs? Understanding of autism by collective masses is like the light trapped within that knob. Arguing and advocating is a futile waste.

Meanwhile let me perfect my autism.

-
Tito
Autism is no mere ignorance. It is an achievement. There is much learning and memorizing involved to perfect autism.
This learning is beyond the world of history and mathematics where one just has to learn what every one learns - formulas and names of battle heroes. Perfecting autism is by far a journey of an explorer. I explored right from the beginning.
When I was beginning to categorize my memory, smelling on the starched white table cloth corners at a doctor’s traditionally decorated office in India, where white ironed creases of the table cloth had captivated my vision, I realized I needed to rise up to the moment. I rose up to explore. Since I was getting a label anyway, what did I have to lose?
I went across the room and picked up a thing or two like paper weights and clips to inhale their ‘out of the world’ smells. Vision is cognitive; smelling is limbic. Smell creates a mood and you smell once more. Emotions evolve and you remember. Never mind the emotions! At least you remember those creases and the smells.
One memorizes the smells better than sight. I will never be in a limbo if I smelled starch again. That day I was given a diagnosis. As the Pope coronated Charlemagne The doctor coronated me with a whole world. ‘He is in his own world!’ I was supposed to be in a world of my own.
And I memorized straight lines and creases. I lined up my toys as part of my duty to organize them in a system. I traced the corners of the walls to perfection.
In a time called ‘meanwhile’, I was happy to be as ignorant - as those simple unidimensional creases and lines. Don’t even tell me there are plane two dimensional surfaces. Then one day I learned about chaos.
We were passengers of a train taking us from Mysore to Bangalore. I was focussed that day, gravitating all the possible points of the world at that newspaper crease - the familiarity of the line, the backbone, the meridian - separating printed this side of the paper from that side of the printed newspaper. I was waiting for the man sitting in front of me in the train whose face never mattered to me, to finish reading it and fold it along that crease. The train moved with gentleness. Then he got up abruptly, grabbing the pages in the carelessly managed manner and left the train at the next station. The creases were ignored - as if there was nothing called folding the paper along the crease! I had to get up to follow that newspaper. ‘Where are YOU off to?’ Mother put me back on the seat. ‘We don’t get off here. We have an hour left’. That day I learned there is more chaos and nobody actually has anything to lose. I lost interest in lining up my toys after that.
Once I learned chaos I recognized it everywhere. In the randomness of airports, people’s dialogues and in the great American special education system. But I am not here to detail every chaos. This essay is about the awareness of entropic journey towards perfection.
Generations of doctors have given names to the human differences to create some kind of organized category. There are some children displaying certain traits of repetitive movements and focussed interests. They ought to have a diagnosis. A diagnosis, after all - helps in the reduction of human dignity. My focussed interests evolved from one thing to another.
I was studying the reflection of the light on this specific door knob - how light converged in that central point with diminished deformity. The humiliation of that reduced outcome of reflection was a parody towards all that external properties of light. There was much to lose. All the luminosity of the glowing bulb was reduced by several lux, lost in the understanding of a brass door knob. Polishing up the door knob wouldn’t glow the reduced reflections. That day I learned the final chapter - what can one expect out of door knobs? Understanding of autism by collective masses is like the light trapped within that knob. Arguing and advocating is a futile waste.
Meanwhile let me perfect my autism.
- Tito
Autism is no mere ignorance. It is an achievement. There is much learning and memorizing involved to perfect autism.
This learning is beyond the world of history and mathematics where one just has to learn what every one learns - formulas and names of battle heroes. Perfecting autism is by far a journey of an explorer. I explored right from the beginning.
When I was beginning to categorize my memory, smelling on the starched white table cloth corners at a doctor’s traditionally decorated office in India, where white ironed creases of the table cloth had captivated my vision, I realized I needed to rise up to the moment. I rose up to explore. Since I was getting a label anyway, what did I have to lose?
I went across the room and picked up a thing or two like paper weights and clips to inhale their ‘out of the world’ smells. Vision is cognitive; smelling is limbic. Smell creates a mood and you smell once more. Emotions evolve and you remember. Never mind the emotions! At least you remember those creases and the smells.
One memorizes the smells better than sight. I will never be in a limbo if I smelled starch again. That day I was given a diagnosis. As the Pope coronated Charlemagne The doctor coronated me with a whole world. ‘He is in his own world!’ I was supposed to be in a world of my own.
And I memorized straight lines and creases. I lined up my toys as part of my duty to organize them in a system. I traced the corners of the walls to perfection.
In a time called ‘meanwhile’, I was happy to be as ignorant - as those simple unidimensional creases and lines. Don’t even tell me there are plane two dimensional surfaces. Then one day I learned about chaos.
We were passengers of a train taking us from Mysore to Bangalore. I was focussed that day, gravitating all the possible points of the world at that newspaper crease - the familiarity of the line, the backbone, the meridian - separating printed this side of the paper from that side of the printed newspaper. I was waiting for the man sitting in front of me in the train whose face never mattered to me, to finish reading it and fold it along that crease. The train moved with gentleness. Then he got up abruptly, grabbing the pages in the carelessly managed manner and left the train at the next station. The creases were ignored - as if there was nothing called folding the paper along the crease! I had to get up to follow that newspaper. ‘Where are YOU off to?’ Mother put me back on the seat. ‘We don’t get off here. We have an hour left’. That day I learned there is more chaos and nobody actually has anything to lose. I lost interest in lining up my toys after that.
Once I learned chaos I recognized it everywhere. In the randomness of airports, people’s dialogues and in the great American special education system. But I am not here to detail every chaos. This essay is about the awareness of entropic journey towards perfection.
Generations of doctors have given names to the human differences to create some kind of organized category. There are some children displaying certain traits of repetitive movements and focussed interests. They ought to have a diagnosis. A diagnosis, after all - helps in the reduction of human dignity. My focussed interests evolved from one thing to another.
I was studying the reflection of the light on this specific door knob - how light converged in that central point with diminished deformity. The humiliation of that reduced outcome of reflection was a parody towards all that external properties of light. There was much to lose. All the luminosity of the glowing bulb was reduced by several lux, lost in the understanding of a brass door knob. Polishing up the door knob wouldn’t glow the reduced reflections. That day I learned the final chapter - what can one expect out of door knobs? Understanding of autism by collective masses is like the light trapped within that knob. Arguing and advocating is a futile waste.
Meanwhile let me perfect my autism.
- Tito
Autism is no mere ignorance. It is an achievement. There is much learning and memorizing involved to perfect autism.
This learning is beyond the world of history and mathematics where one just has to learn what every one learns - formulas and names of battle heroes. Perfecting autism is by far a journey of an explorer. I explored right from the beginning.
When I was beginning to categorize my memory, smelling on the starched white table cloth corners at a doctor’s traditionally decorated office in India, where white ironed creases of the table cloth had captivated my vision, I realized I needed to rise up to the moment. I rose up to explore. Since I was getting a label anyway, what did I have to lose?
I went across the room and picked up a thing or two like paper weights and clips to inhale their ‘out of the world’ smells. Vision is cognitive; smelling is limbic. Smell creates a mood and you smell once more. Emotions evolve and you remember. Never mind the emotions! At least you remember those creases and the smells.
One memorizes the smells better than sight. I will never be in a limbo if I smelled starch again. That day I was given a diagnosis. As the Pope coronated Charlemagne The doctor coronated me with a whole world. ‘He is in his own world!’ I was supposed to be in a world of my own.
And I memorized straight lines and creases. I lined up my toys as part of my duty to organize them in a system. I traced the corners of the walls to perfection.
In a time called ‘meanwhile’, I was happy to be as ignorant - as those simple unidimensional creases and lines. Don’t even tell me there are plane two dimensional surfaces. Then one day I learned about chaos.
We were passengers of a train taking us from Mysore to Bangalore. I was focussed that day, gravitating all the possible points of the world at that newspaper crease - the familiarity of the line, the backbone, the meridian - separating printed this side of the paper from that side of the printed newspaper. I was waiting for the man sitting in front of me in the train whose face never mattered to me, to finish reading it and fold it along that crease. The train moved with gentleness. Then he got up abruptly, grabbing the pages in the carelessly managed manner and left the train at the next station. The creases were ignored - as if there was nothing called folding the paper along the crease! I had to get up to follow that newspaper. ‘Where are YOU off to?’ Mother put me back on the seat. ‘We don’t get off here. We have an hour left’. That day I learned there is more chaos and nobody actually has anything to lose. I lost interest in lining up my toys after that.
Once I learned chaos I recognized it everywhere. In the randomness of airports, people’s dialogues and in the great American special education system. But I am not here to detail every chaos. This essay is about the awareness of entropic journey towards perfection.
Generations of doctors have given names to the human differences to create some kind of organized category. There are some children displaying certain traits of repetitive movements and focussed interests. They ought to have a diagnosis. A diagnosis, after all - helps in the reduction of human dignity. My focussed interests evolved from one thing to another.
I was studying the reflection of the light on this specific door knob - how light converged in that central point with diminished deformity. The humiliation of that reduced outcome of reflection was a parody towards all that external properties of light. There was much to lose. All the luminosity of the glowing bulb was reduced by several lux, lost in the understanding of a brass door knob. Polishing up the door knob wouldn’t glow the reduced reflections. That day I learned the final chapter - what can one expect out of door knobs? Understanding of autism by collective masses is like the light trapped within that knob. Arguing and advocating is a futile waste.
Meanwhile let me perfect my autism.
- Tito
Autism is no mere ignorance. It is an achievement. There is much learning and memorizing involved to perfect autism.
This learning is beyond the world of history and mathematics where one just has to learn what every one learns - formulas and names of battle heroes. Perfecting autism is by far a journey of an explorer. I explored right from the beginning.
When I was beginning to categorize my memory, smelling on the starched white table cloth corners at a doctor’s traditionally decorated office in India, where white ironed creases of the table cloth had captivated my vision, I realized I needed to rise up to the moment. I rose up to explore. Since I was getting a label anyway, what did I have to lose?
I went across the room and picked up a thing or two like paper weights and clips to inhale their ‘out of the world’ smells. Vision is cognitive; smelling is limbic. Smell creates a mood and you smell once more. Emotions evolve and you remember. Never mind the emotions! At least you remember those creases and the smells.
One memorizes the smells better than sight. I will never be in a limbo if I smelled starch again. That day I was given a diagnosis. As the Pope coronated Charlemagne The doctor coronated me with a whole world. ‘He is in his own world!’ I was supposed to be in a world of my own.
And I memorized straight lines and creases. I lined up my toys as part of my duty to organize them in a system. I traced the corners of the walls to perfection.
In a time called ‘meanwhile’, I was happy to be as ignorant - as those simple unidimensional creases and lines. Don’t even tell me there are plane two dimensional surfaces. Then one day I learned about chaos.
We were passengers of a train taking us from Mysore to Bangalore. I was focussed that day, gravitating all the possible points of the world at that newspaper crease - the familiarity of the line, the backbone, the meridian - separating printed this side of the paper from that side of the printed newspaper. I was waiting for the man sitting in front of me in the train whose face never mattered to me, to finish reading it and fold it along that crease. The train moved with gentleness. Then he got up abruptly, grabbing the pages in the carelessly managed manner and left the train at the next station. The creases were ignored - as if there was nothing called folding the paper along the crease! I had to get up to follow that newspaper. ‘Where are YOU off to?’ Mother put me back on the seat. ‘We don’t get off here. We have an hour left’. That day I learned there is more chaos and nobody actually has anything to lose. I lost interest in lining up my toys after that.
Once I learned chaos I recognized it everywhere. In the randomness of airports, people’s dialogues and in the great American special education system. But I am not here to detail every chaos. This essay is about the awareness of entropic journey towards perfection.
Generations of doctors have given names to the human differences to create some kind of organized category. There are some children displaying certain traits of repetitive movements and focussed interests. They ought to have a diagnosis. A diagnosis, after all - helps in the reduction of human dignity. My focussed interests evolved from one thing to another.
I was studying the reflection of the light on this specific door knob - how light converged in that central point with diminished deformity. The humiliation of that reduced outcome of reflection was a parody towards all that external properties of light. There was much to lose. All the luminosity of the glowing bulb was reduced by several lux, lost in the understanding of a brass door knob. Polishing up the door knob wouldn’t glow the reduced reflections. That day I learned the final chapter - what can one expect out of door knobs? Understanding of autism by collective masses is like the light trapped within that knob. Arguing and advocating is a futile waste.
Meanwhile let me perfect my autism.
- Tito