I can not stop thinking about his bare feet. Not his. His.

Amerie – Rolling Down My Face. This is not about him either. I want to hear this in a club and shake this shit out.

Inhale. They keep trying to fix me, but I am not broken. I’m just put together differently. I am OK with that. *I* am OK with *YOU* not getting me. I don’t care, it’s your limitation not mine. So Dear Dore and other related organisations please kindly Fuck Off. If ever swearing was necessary it is now. Dizlexia iz not just about readin and ritin. how mani more times.

Today, I had maybe eight browsers open, was engaged in 3 different conversations, filling in two forms, and listening to Radio Four. The only difficulty that I had was listening and typing, because I tend to type what I hear. Does that sound like someone with a ‘Learning Difficulty’? What I have is a Learning Difference. The only reason why I am Disabled is because of Dore and related people telling other people that I am Disabled, other people believing that shit and treating me accordingly, or if they are particularly stupid talking to me with a patronising or condescending tone. With an IQ of 126 (average) and a Weisler Scale 133 in Verbal Ability, I am not the one that is stupid, you tool!

I keep this shit bottled up so you don’t consider me impolite. My manners are impeccable. Those times when I cut you off, I already know where you are going and have solved that problem. Sorry. Sometimes, you can ground me with a gentle touch. Do you know that I can actually declare that I am Disabled. I do not identify with that label. Really, my biggest problem is the closed minds of others and their unwillingness to think differently. That, is not my problem, that is their problem, which they make my problem. Bloody hell.

You can identify Dyslexics a mile off when you know how and it is quite easy to spot people who are Dyslexic friendly. I love those linear thinking friends of mine. Together there is no avenue that we cannot explore. It is wonderful and wise, when two things complement each other so well that they manage to maintain their own identities and yet still build something of wonder bigger than them both. I get my rocks off when the world turns thus.

I do love being with other Dyslexic people though. It is different. One example I have is about five years back myself and ‘Jane’ an older colleague at the hostel I was working at blew our bosses mind. He was stood in the door way watching and when we reached a natural pause he just sat down and asked what was that?

We had these massive desks but not so big that most people would feel comfortable sharing. We had about 8 client files out, the usual desk paraphernalia, her sat at the length; me at the width and we just did what we did.

What he saw was chaos. We seemed to talk over each other, leave sentences hanging, questions unanswered, broke off to speak to clients, answer the telephone, talk to him, and write up the days events. It only stopped because Jane got a visual on something that I had said, found it so funny that she snorted tea through her nose, of course I knew what she was laughing at and saw the same myself, so whilst falling apart laughing we cleaned up the desk. BAM! We did about 4 hours work in 1/2 hour and loved every second of it.

When a Dyslexic person looks like they are being lazy, non-committal or unresponsive, what they are actually doing is thought experiments. In their minds they have walked through an issue, made mistakes, back tracked, gathered equipment, made a rota, gathered data and will be ready to rock before you have even got your coat on. You would be unwise to mess with a Dyslexic person in this state, they have just done a days work with out the inconvenience of having to make the mistakes real time. Just because *you* (the proverbial you) don’t get it, doesn’t mean that they don’t understand you. They have already out performed you. In their minds.

Why do they get shirty? Because they are tired of not being trusted, listened to, consulted and generally treat with dignity. Think about this, my mother herself Dyslexic, came back from skiing (or was she going?) there where about 10 other people talking and jostling and she was starting to get antsy. I knew that she was in a good mood, we were in frickin Norway! Who wouldn’t be in a good mood!? I walked over to the stereo and turned if off.

No one noticed, but my mother left her spot near the ceiling and started to talk calmly again. Dyslexic torpor, the other hazard. Too much input. Thoughts backed up, stop asking questions. We miss nothing. We might need some time to process, or just a little quiet. And the other thing that really makes us cross. People lying. We cannot forget what we have not been told. You can not tell us we have forgotten, to get yourself out of the shit. When reminded we will remember. Just because you don’t get how our memories work doesn’t mean our memories are lacking.

I am erudite, succinct, verbose, snappy, take the round the bush route, prone to silence, ‘lazy’, prone to high octane bursts of activity. It might look random and illogical and a waste of energy to you. Except for woolly head days, where we smile and nod. (that’s for ‘other thinking’) we have already out performed you.

And you will do the same to us. We will never understand your linear thinking, your inability to think tangentially. We love it when you fill in forms for us. LOVE IT! The ability to spot the obvious. I know you have other talents, but you don’t need to be told what they are, this world is set up for you and your linear thinking privilege. Be our allies, not another speed bump and together we will rule the world.

If I look like a woman waiting to exhale, that’s because I am.