What it's like.

I've never really been the normal girl.
People think I'm really unconventional; I've been able to make my quirks skew more charming than queer. I don't know why I'm like this. I just know that I've never been able to quite manage being standard, in any way. I was precocious. I was bright. I was a well-spoken eight year old. I was academically extraordinary. I've always been able to achieve without really trying (except at bennington). In average surroundings, I am above. I don't even remember how to read things I think are dull, like textbooks or assigned reading. At UMass, I can make A's without trying. I can't quite seem to not be shy, not be weird, not be a little different. I know, every time I go out, get dressed, do something, say something, I'm just a little off. I never really get how to dress, how to choose my clothes.

The best explanation for this is something called right-hemisphere dysfunction.It's a non-verbal learning disability. Everything that's written about it seems to apply to me, but the interpretations piss me the fuck off. People try to pin it onto the autistic spectrum. That's bullshit. I'm not autistic, I'm not aspergers. I'm not any kind of motherfucking rain man. I'm just me. And I'm good at things with words. Very good. Brilliant. I can pick up languages quick. I can play with words and rules. I can find subtexts, interpret film like it's an essay. Sometimes writing is a game to me. Other things are harder. I can't read people very well; I'm empathetic (fuck aspergers, I don't have fucking aspergers. I UNDERSTAND people, I'm intuitive, it's not any anthropologist on mars shit), but sometimes it takes a bit to pick up individuals and group dynamics. If you meet me once, I'm weird. If you know me for a year, you forget I ever was. I'm funny. I'm fucking hilarious; but sometimes, it's true, I have trouble with non-literal uses of language. When I was in college for real, it was hard for me to answer "What's up?" with "What's up?".

That's it, though. When I was a kid, I didn't just seem articulate, I was. I didn't just seem bright, I was. Everything that's written on this NVLD bullshit seems like sour grapes. The literature talks about children using words they don't really understand, appearing intelligent in elementary schools, with their 'true', delayed nature, coming out later. Reccommendations for life include predictable careers and very little secondary education. Remember, kids, if someone seems smarter than you, they're not. People talk about children with NVLD seeming to have wide vocabularies, but lacking comprehension. About shallow understandings, and shallow interpersonal relationships.

How do you fucking know, guy? How do you know how smart I am? Because my mind works differently than yours, it must be worse? Even (and especially) where it seems better? I am smart. I am a bad student. I am a good writer. I can be frustrating. I'd rather write around the rules than within them. People think I'm being difficult on purpose. Mostly, I'm not. My co-workers call me lazy, call me stupid. It's hard. There's a lot of ambiguity at my job, a lot of things you're supposed to know to do without ever having been told or having seen it written down. And if not, you must be lazy. Must be stupid. It hurts. It hurts to know that I am smart and stupid, but it's better than believing that I'm stupid and seem smart.

I know I'm not normal. I've never felt normal. I feel the cracks between what I can do and what everyone else can do; for years I walked around, feeling about to be found out as the fraud I felt like.

I lust after normalcy. I want it so badly. I want to do everything that everybody else does. I want to have what my friends have. I want a normal job and a normal boyfriend and a normal life. I don't want to make A's without trying, while pissing off my professors with my apparent slacking and bad attitude. I want to make B's with professors on my side. I want to have someone with me at thanksgiving dessert. I don't want to have to win people over for once.

People don't understand. My parents don't understand. They see what I achieve as proof that there's really nothing amiss. No matter how many diagnoses I have, they'll always see their brilliant daughter. They don't know that I can't figure out things that are dead obvious to everyone else. Sometimes I get myself into trouble, deep trouble. And there's no help for me. If I had dyslexia , and got myself into trouble taking a course load that was too heavy, there would be tons of things academic services could do for me. If I had ADD, and couldn't concentrate, I could see a specialist, given ritalin or adderal, and feel normal.

But if I work hard and quiet, never miss an assignment, never give someone reason to dislike my work; I can still get in too deep. I run through professors, term by term. I never get anyone on my side. Professors see me coming in late to class (disorganization is part of the disability- the most easily combated part, but part of it), never coming to office hours, and turning in work (BRILLIANT work, guy) that obviously wasn't even started until the night before. I know how much time it takes me to write a 13 page paper- one evening. I know how long it takes me to write a 7 page paper- one evening. One evening, one draft. It simply wouldn't be useful to start it the week before, and come in for feedback. That's not the help I need, lady. I need you to tell me what I have to do to get a recommendation from you. That's why I got kicked out of Bennington. Simply, my disability isn't charming enough. I don't cast a sympathetic figure.

I want to be normal. I so want to be normal.
A friend of mine graduated from Bridgewater State last year, same major as me. Her family threw her a party in the basement of a Chinese restaurant. She danced with her boyfriend, her mother drank too much and embarrassed everyone. In the middle of the party, my friend swelled up huge with an allergic reaction.

I'll never have that. I could hope for the allergic reaction. But the normalcy, the sheer grimy shady, peeling wood-paneled life of it...not for me. Not ever.

My boyfriend has had girlfriends before me. They did everything real. Everything. Everything that people do. They knew eachother's families. His friends knew them. I'm sure everything was normal. I'm not saying it was fun, or didn't have problems, but my boyfriend has had normal. He's had miserable. He's had depressing. He's had painful and pointless, but he's had normal.

So now I'm wondering- am I going to fail next? Or am I going to excel? There's a good chance I'll do amazing on the LSAT. I might go to law school and rape it, kick its fucking ass. I might make it my mewling, screaming bitch. Or it might be one of those normal things I can't have. There might be tons of ambiguous requirements, errands, busy work and obsequities that I can't navigate. I might be stuck doing well without support. I would be labeled as aptitude without attitude. Smart but lazy. How can I even get there if I can't even find a recommendation? Or know where to get the form to officially declare my major? Will it be UMass or Bennington? Friendship or Romance?