Devil in the Details

 As research is progressing along the lines of learning how to be a freelance writer, I've come across the unwashed underbelly of content writing. 

A quirk of my personality is the inability to lie. I can stretch the truth, I can expand on an idea to incorporate possibilities and hypotheticals, I can even stretch my opinion to witness and incorporate the perspectives of others, but outright lying for the sake of content production is not within my realm of abilities and makes me a bit sick in the belly to acknowledge lying as a means of income production. 

When an employer calls for content producers who are able to write against their own opinions or who can produce for the sake of content production, the ethical bunny in my head rears up on its back legs, flicks its little bunny ears and reaches into its little bunny basket for the most accessible incendiary device (my ethical bunny wears camo and carries a basket of grenades). 

There is too much noise for the sake of noise in the world. I can't tolerate it as it is, why would I contribute to the incessant din for the sake of contributing to the din? That is contra-self-care for a person who is seeking pure self and value in this extended breathing period. 

Since leaving the hill (several years ago, now) I have been confronted over and over again with my naivete, idealism, and simplicity as if they were a calf-skin glove to the face, but what is the point of living this autistic life (thump chest with autistic gang sign) if I can't be true to my naive, idealistic and simplistic self? A half-truth or outright untruth writhes in my chest like a bag of snakes, fills the pit of my stomach with the bile of diseased culture and forces me into the blank-stared overwhelm of facing the demon of what is wrong with the world and its doomed occupants.

It will be quite a while before I attempt to pitch for a freelance writing position because I have to prepare. I must establish a writing history (this blog and Twitter should do for that, perhaps?). I have to establish with myself what my limitations and abilities are, along with developing the skills I will need to communicate with the people who are responsible for hiring writers. Underscoring all of that is a deep dive into attempting to uncover the aspects of interaction I am ignorant of along these lines of professional development. 

{There are entire scopes of communication I am not able to access because the levels of social interaction that are required to communicate successfully to certain groups are alien to me, like what it takes to catch the ears of young people who gather at night-time establishments to meet and converse with strangers in a manner that isn't polite and yet develops relationships (?! What is that about? How can you talk to mean people and want to spend time with them? How is that a thing?).}

I will interact with this world on the terms that will allow me to sleep at night. I cannot complicate this life because I cannot tolerate complication, it's the way my brain works, and I have to go with what I've been given. I stretch myself as much as I can, while recognizing my limitations and talents.

 I am anomalous. I am pure Tania. I keep moving, one foot in front of the other. 

A Crossroad: Blog Revisited

 It seems I have found myself at a crossroad with infinite paths.

I am a 47-year-old female with autism and PTSD from a really fun high school senior activity that has become pretty common these days (school shooter, anyone?) and a lifetime of trying to get by with a cracked psyche that could only positively contribute to a successful writing career that will indefinitely begin with, "It seems I have found myself at a crossroad with infinite paths."

Today, I find myself tooling around the internet looking for SOMETHING in this modern world that I can lend my innate talents to that will prevent unnecessary mingling with the unvaccinated and over politicized masses while, with great hopes, contribute to the mothballs in my savings account and simultaneously keep my Amazon Prime account active, and I should mention a girl has got to eat.

My search began this morning for strictly online employment possibilities. All of my previous employment searches were for in-person, travel-required positions that paid way too little that I would have to be desperate to take, but with the type of desperation that required the ability to be around other people without making the inevitable social flub that usually happens awkwardly, ever so awkwardly, within the first hour or so of being in my presence. I can sell 10 minutes of Tania time as if I'm the most levelheaded social butterfly you will ever meet, but then that mask starts to melt not long into the "getting to know you" phase. I have never been fired, but I have very quickly accepted the fact that the situation I have put myself into as an employment relationship will not be sustainable for my peace of mind.

I did love being an Operations Manager for Guitar Center for 3 years, but Covid is a bitch. Damn you, Covid, for destroying the peace and potential and progress of my previous position. It had taken a while to find that thing that I was naturally good at, that I enjoyed doing, that kept me sharp and focused and involved in something I was passionate about with other people who could take the waves of Tania as they crashed upon the shores of limited social contact. That was a fun job. Once again: Damn you, Covid.

So, here I am trying my hand at Freelance Writing. I'm an intelligent and creative cookie, I can do this. Now, all I have to do is learn this website, inside and out, partake in the offered courses and one-on-one instruction (and hope the money that I had to borrow from my parents because I am that pathetic at this point in my life will give me a lift out of the hole I have found myself in over these past few months), navigate the "selling myself" obligatory application phase successfully, understand the details of the writing prompts/demands of content production, prevent myself from feeling lost in the humanity-eating machine that IS content production, and become prolific enough in the production of said content that I can sustain the needs of an adult single female with a demanding feline dependent in a world with constantly increasing demands of modernity and unnecessary technological progression- i.e. I gotta stay current. (Here is where I mention my soul would much rather melt into the natural cycle of the woods and winds and peaceful chatter of the untouched forest than dip my toes into the explosively progressive world of man.)

Not with the intention of using the fact of being Neurodiverse as a crutch or excuse pointing at the failings, or apparent failings, of this current lifecycle do I mention it. No, I mention my Neurodiversity as an extra tool that I have to draw from in order to offer perspectives that others may not have access to. I can see things other people can't, frame thoughts that are unpopular in an abstract dimension, point to the unspoken and the awkward without fear because this is how my brain works. I am not afraid of death, so I am not afraid of words. I will own this new opportunity for growth and altered direction. I'm going to see where this path of the infinite paths leads me, and I will do it with verve.