When you’ve been stuck in bed - or at least around the house - for a week, things can get pretty boring.

Trust the sick girl on this one.

Now, I’m never really bored. My favorite thing to do when I need to relax is Wikipedia article hop - and I can get lost in that for hours - but this simply doesn’t cut it for an entire week.

Here are some things I found myself doing during this latest flare. Think: “limited mobility” and “nerd.”

• Organizing and updating my Outlook contacts. Now every person I know a birthday, anniversary, spouses name or nickname for has this information noted in my contacts on my computer and my phone.
• Learning to talk like the lady in my phone - MS Voice Command - so she’ll understand what I’m saying.
• Writing reviews for everything I own on Amazon.com. This way I’m helping humanity and my fellow consumer while I’m stuck under my laptop.
• Organizing and backing up files (mostly pics, vids and music) on my home server.
• More fun with Outlook - assigning pictures to contacts, ya know, in case I forget what they look like. This is something I always thought was silly but, hey, I had nothing better to do.
• Organizing my purse and laptop bag with smaller bags for everything inside.
• Researching sodas I’ve had in other countries or parts of this one and then order them.

Yup - I suck at finding things to do while I’m sick. Send me suggestions.

I have finally combined my PDA and my cellular phone utilizing nothing more than the power of the debit card. These things happen when you have faith.

And, yes, it did take me long enough, thank you.

My Dell Axim 51v has a beautiful, huge, responsive touch screen and is loaded down with the after market essentials like a registry editor, a task manager, a program to make it a remote for, like, any TV - but I found that even though I loved her so dearly I was getting sick of carrying her everywhere. She wasn’t only great to show off but capable and quick. Some days, though, I felt loaded down and I had to choose between her and the phone. The phone always won.

The phone, though, unlike a simple PDA, must always be within reach. I could put my Axim in it’s case and let it fall to the bottom of my laptop bag or purse and that was fine. It was protected from harm and that was first and foremost. The phone, on the other hand, not only didn’t have a touch screen to look out for but it was a clamshell so it was it’s own little fortress.

My new verycleverphone (a Sammy SCH-i760), though, needs something special and, as is usually the case, I know what exactly I want.

I’ve been salivating over this phone for months and when she finally arrived in my hands - unprogrammed, thanks to the not so clever smartphone selling gents at the VZW store … good thing I have half of an idea what I’m doing - I realized that I had no idea what I was doing. Alright, I know Windows Mobile like the back of my hand and I’m pretty sure I’m keen to the phone thing - but I wasn’t sure of some key items. Screen protector or not? Metal, rubber or something else for a case? Cradle? Holster …?

So I started researching my options. Since this phone is targeted at a small niche market (the Connectivity Cult) it’s proving difficult to find high quality after market cases and holsters. Especially those that don’t look completely butch - and for those of you that know my “business lesbian” look, it’s obvious that I could use a little touch of girly. Or at least not an extra touch of manly.

(Imagine less makeup - this is me wearing my game-night countenance with my IT clothes.)

I won’t lie to you, either. There is a certain side of me, as I’m not a Fashion Administrator, that wanted to embrace my inner-geek and buy this gadget holster to wear around everywhere. If I can’t have a blaster on my side I may as well have my second choice weapon readily available.

On to the Point:

I figured out almost exactly what I want - but I have yet to find it. I want a fitted case with an extremely strong snap on belt clip - similar to the i-volution case from Vaja. I want it to have a removable (zipper? snaps?) flip open screen cover and, like some of the Vaja cases, have the flash card holsters inside. I also want a small sleeve on this removable cover … tight, like in a wallet … where I can throw in a debit card, my drivers license and a few bucks.  I would also prefer that the keyboard not be covered in plastic.  That annoys me.

I’m even flexible on whether or not the flap-cover is removable - but it’s gotta have the sleeve.

(ETA: the reason I wanted the cover over the face to be removable was so that I could have screen protection when I needed it but also pull that bad boy off when I’m using the phone for long calls - that way I don’t have a flap sticking up making me look like I’m using a big ol’ oversized flip-phone.  Thanks for asking.)

Here’s where I’m, apparently, asking too much. I want it to have two little hooks, one on either side, and a thin, color matched strap with an adjustable drop length similar to that of a cross body purse.

I got the small cell phone bag idea while I was looking around eBags and stumbled on the Baggallini Flip Phone Bagg and fell in love with the idea of a cross body bag whose primary purpose was to hold my phone. The straps come off and it has a belt clip which, in my world, is essential. Chicks pockets aren’t big enough for gadgets (even my RAZR’s itty-bitty form factor annoyed me when I shoved it in there) and I’m more than a power-user, here- I need my device with me at all times while I’m working. You can also use the short strap to attach the bag to your purse or laptop bag. I love the idea. Something like this could simply be dropped in a purse or thrown over your shoulder on it’s own - depending on what your needs were at the time. This teeny, tiny bag, though, is too big, IMHO, for belt clipping. I’m afraid it would look and feel like a fanny pack.

So I want a smartphone on a string, basically. But sometimes on a clip. Also with a little, tiny sleeve.

How do men get by without purses?

I have only known a few adults named “Justin,” but every one I have met has failed to convince me that the name is befitting a grown-up. For some reason - and I’m almost sure that I’m the only one who even has thoughts like this run through their head - I only think the name sounds appropriate on children. I feel pretty much the same way about the female names “Ashley,” “Brittany,” “Emily,” “Lindsay,” “Tiffany” - well, a lot more girls names than boys. Especially since the only other boys name I really feel that way about is “Dustin” which, we all know, is just the poor-man’s “Justin.” In my head, there are some names that just sound like they belong on children that aren’t meant to grow into adults - or, perhaps, are meant to grow into adults that act like children.

I’ve never looked at a fully grown man and thought, “he looks like a ‘Justin.’”

Use of diminutives and common nicknames for adults can be weird sometimes, too - but at least you can get away from that. “Robert” definitely sounds more grown-up than “Bobby” (and “Bob is just too old sounding). Same with “Billy”-”William”-”Bill” and “Joey”-”Jospeh”-”Joe.” Chick names don’t suffer from this as much, in my humble O, because we’re allowed to be cutesy, especially if it’s only part of the time.

But, “Justin” … I really think that sounds like a kid name all around.

That’s just me.

Whatever - my name sucks. I dig it, ya’ know, since it’s my name but no man has ever been like “Denise, what a beautiful name!” I wouldn’t believe anyone if they told me that, anyway. It’s peak popularity in the States was apparently in the years 1955-56 where it ranked 23rd - not exactly modern. In ‘55 it shared it’s ranking on the dudes side with the name “Dennis.” That’s pretty interesting, I suppose, since that’s the name my father and brother share. Also, considering that neither of them ever broke into the top ten, it’s pretty weird to see them sharing a ranking at any point on the time-line. At least it’s a grown-up name, right?

Oh, hell, now I’m second guessing whether my name is a grown-up name or not.

Either way, “Justin” is not. That was my point.

I’d love to find out what other people think about this grown-up name business but, seriously, who would even waste their time thinking about this? I almost can’t believe I do … I’m a pretty busy person whose brain is typically used for decisions in matters that are much more pressing.

Still, though, “Justin” equals kid name and “Dustin” … well that ones just weird - like a dirty “Justin.” Where did the name “Dustin” come from, anyway? “Justin” was an early Christian martyr or something (at first I thought he was the argonaut guy but that’s just ’cause I’m tired - corrected myself as soon as I said it out loud). It’s also probably not a good idea to give someone a name whose beginning could be pronounced by kids with an exaggerated first syllable to color it’s holder as retarded - trust me. At least it’s good to be “just.” It’s never good to be “duh.”

… and those are my thoughts on the name “Justin.”

Like any good hammer, when I die I want my body converted into radio waves with a text information tag included, RDS style - from LF all the way up into the micorwave spectrum - and sent off into the dark so aliens from the future can DX me and send word back to my heirs for a QSL card.

I have this sinking feeling, though, that this isn’t really going to happen.

Thinking as an alive person - and I often do - I have slight issue with both common options of being burned up and being buried deep under ground. Being thrown into the ocean is slightly more appealing than those choices, I suppose, but still not ideal.

I don’t really mind being confined to small spaces - in fact, I’ve always kind of loved the security of it - so a mausoleum-type deal seems alright. Especially if it has a bench of something so people can come visit me - oh, and electrical power and internet access (or mobile phone reception) so I can have a computer set up from which they can read me Wikipedia articles and try to describe new Lolcats (Living - Ur doin it wrong). Also, this way, when I come back as a zombie, I can do a little research into the world in which I’ll be wandering out into. Everyone has a better survival chance with a little understanding of their world - even zombies.

I really do like the idea of someone keeping me in their house - but the fact that I don’t want to be burned up or embalmed (hello, I am already filled with fluid, no need for formaldehyde, Douche bags!) probably doesn’t make keeping my decomposing body around seem like much fun for those picky-ass breathers. If someone did want to keep me, though, I’m perfectly fine with being rolled up in a blanket and thrown in the closet or under the bed. Like I said - I’m cool with tight spaces. Be wary, though … if you keep me in your house you may end up as my first zombie meal. Just something to consider.

There’s always the Lenin-style permanent display but, to be honest, I think I’d feel pretty awkward with all those people staring at me. If my dead body somehow ends up with healing powers, though, I’ll make the sacrifice.

I think I’ve just figured it out and this is totally doable - unlike making me into a carrier wave. I want to buy a garage with just enough space for my car. It must be nicely chilled so that I last a while. My car must have a full tank of gas (my Evo takes premium, kids) and I’ll need the remote to the garage door on my passenger-side visor. I want to be left in the drivers seat. There should be a bench so that people can come spend time with me without having to get in the car - but they can if they want to - I think that’d be pretty cool. This way, if I never turn into a zombie, I at least have a nice rad, comfortable, fun display case and people will see how freakin’ cool I was. If (more like “when,” IMHO) I do turn into a zombie, though, I’ll totally have a sweet ride instead of walking around all “ggggrrrrrrr” with my arms stuck out like a T-Rex.

Or the regular old mausoleum thing is OK, too.

I’m an insomniac - I always have been. I have to be so tired I can barely stand before I can slow my wandering mind down enough to allow me sleep. I have spent many evenings laying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling trying not to think but most of the time I give in and Wikipedia-hop till four or five in the morning.

I didn’t get home from work until 0030 - late game and then a friend needed a flat replaced with her spare - and since I actually worked until 2300 I’m pretty tired physically but even now I can’t stop my thoughts. Once a question creeps in I have to find the answers to alleviate the brain-strain-pain.

I NEED to know everything about Myanmar (or should I call it Burma?) and the military junta there - NOW!

On my way home from work tonight I almost called my mom and last night I did call one of my best friends pretty damn late. I think one issue with my particular brand of insomnia is having absolutely no natural awareness or sensation about what time it is. I’ve called friends at midnight on a Tuesday thinking it must only be ten or so - in fact, I’ve just never been much of a clock watcher. Maybe I’m flashing a constant 12:00 and my clock just needs to be reset.

Sometimes I get my best housework done in the middle of the night. My fully-clad pots and pans aren’t dishwasher safe and since I hate washing dishes (for a reason that makes me seem like I should be put in a padded room - it has to do with my not enjoying being only partially wet - weirdo) they tend to sit in the sink and “soak.” Sometimes I’ll walk through the kitchen for a snack at 2am and see them there and just get ‘em all cleaned up. The stupor brought on by the lack of shuteye makes busting out the Bar Keepers Friend and scrubbing the pots seem like no big deal.

I’m so tired now that a post about my inability to sleep seemed like a nifty idea. What’s with that?

I’ve had quite a few people in my life - mostly men - who can fall asleep anywhere and almost any time. I can only sleep in a bed or on a sofa, fully prostrate and with covers up to my eyebrows. I can never sleep in a car and you won’t find me falling asleep if there are people around me, no matter the relationship, that are still awake. I’d like to, though. Talk about a strange thing to find romantic - I’ve always wanted to be able to fall asleep in the arms of someone who is still awake. What’s weirder than that - the fact that when I do sleep, I sometimes dream about that.

About my dreams - the little bit of sleep that I do get is filled with amazingly vivid, realistic, exciting dreams. It’s like an IMAX experience every night and I’m one of those who will wake up and have to take a few minutes to get my bearings, realize where I really am and shake off the emotions left by the things I imagined while asleep. My dreams are so wild - just so damn cool sometimes - that I have to restrain myself from trying to have conversations with my friends about them … and I never forget them.

Isn’t it strange how something as natural and seemingly simple as sleep can draw forth so many words from an exhausted girl at one-thirty in the morning? Isn’t it strange how I can be so extremely warn out from a work day that didn’t end until after the evening news was over and still not be able to find sleep? I kind of hope it’s not all that strange ’cause, hell, this has been going on as long as I can remember and I don’t want to be strange! Not while I’m awake, at least … which, for better or for worse, is most of the time.

Dear people that know about such things:

I’m desperately seeking information about a bird. Whether this is one bird or an entire school/herd/pack/tribe, I haven’t an idea. This bird lives in the north Tampa/south Pasco area and I do not know if it is a native or invasive species.

This bird is definitely nocturnal. It tends to sing it’s … song, which sounds oddly similar to a car alarm … at about 0230 EDST every. single. night.

chiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIRP. chiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIRP. CHIRP, CHIRP, CHIRP, CHIRP, chIIIiiiiiiIIIIiiiirrrRRRRrrrp, chIIIiiiiiiIIIIiiiirrrRRRRrrrp, CHIIIIIIIiiiiirp, CHIIIIIIIiiiiirp - sorry, my bird-to-English transliteration skills are truly lacking.

I’m wondering a few things like what type of bird this might be, what it looks like, what it eats, what it’s natural predators are, whether or not it’s flame retardant and/or worth any money on the black market.

Please feel free to contact me any time, day or night. I simply can’t sleep until my, uh, curiosity is quelled by knowledge about this interesting creature.

Please help me,

Denise Sisko

I was going to buy Cheez-Its anyway (they’re yummy) - so, why not buy the box that could have a free toy?

I like sports cards. I like autographs. I really like Cheez-Its. What’s to lose?

How about … my self esteem.

I hate to be a presumptive bastard but I kinda figured that if there’s no card in the box then I’m out of luck and, conversely, if there is a card in the box then I get to keep it. Did I need all that fine print … which covers the inside of the box? How much legalese do you need concerning a Kristi Yamaguchi card?

And, seriously, who needs their box of Cheez-Its reminding them that they are a loser? Excuse me - “not a winner.”

I already knew that, thank you very much. I’m sitting at home - alone - with bronchitis and eating Cheez-Its. No disclaimer necessary.

Deborah Palfrey has allegedly committed suicide here in the Tampa Bay Area (at the home of her mother in Tarpon Springs). This is according to the NEWS ALERT Fox 13 just broke in to bring me.

So, I guess it’s interesting and all … I mean, in a sick, voyeuristic kind of way … but is it really the kind of thing you interrupt other shows for? Would they do it for me?

“… she was found wearing her blue spandex and clutching a photo of Steven Stamkos.”

I guess we’re just feeling special that she chose our area. Hmmph.

Ruth Eckerd Hall has a great little auditorium that seats, from what I recall, about 2200. There is only one level of steeply sloped, stadium style seats and there are no seating balconies. The walls are plaster and paint covered concrete block and the lobbies on the east and west sides of the theatre are filled with natural light and unnatural plants. The color scheme is a very Florida-esque teal and eggshell and the plush seats are so perfectly padded that I was surprised that anyone who’d worked an entire day was actually motivated to stand up when Panic at the Disco took the stage last night.

Then I remembered that I was at a Panic at the Disco concert and most of the audience hadn’t worked an entire day because they are all twelve years old. They probably even all took naps before the show - and that’s not meant as an insult, kiddos! I love naps.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

The show itself was pretty darn good. Phantom Planet’s show opening performance was, for me, a pleasant surprise. Perhaps not owning any of their albums would get me tossed from some hipster sets but now that yuppie is apparently again hip, I’m fine with this. Actually, I don’t know what I’m talking about when it comes to all this cool-kid stuff but I was pleased with their performance - even though they did play that damn California song. They were fun, sounded good and they made cute jokes. For one, anyone that attends concerts with me with any regularity knows there is one sure way for a band to win my heart. A lot of the shows I see are in St. Pete or, like this night, Clearwater, but we are the Tampa Bay Area and if you want me to love you, you’ll call me Tampa. Alex Greenwald of PP looked at us and asked “do you want to be called Clearwater or Tampa?” and then joked “well, you all definitely said Tampa so, how are you tonight, Tampa?” That won me ten times over. I’ll always remember how he called me by my favorite concert going pet name. The Hush Sound was also very impressive - no fun jokes and they called me Clearwater - but I think Motion City Soundtrack was my favorite act of the night. I guess it helps that, of the three openers, I actually knew most of their songs but Justin Pierre was really on vocally and they crammed as many songs as they could into their 45 minutes of stage time.

Now, from what I’ve found, in every group of peers where musical tastes tend the same way there will be at least one person in said group who will claim that a certain band “sucks live.” In my peer group I will be this person when speaking of Angels and Airwaves (whose recorded music I like) and The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (whose recorded music, I believe, should not have been). Even though I usually go into every show with an open mind, for some reason I believed the person who said this to me about Panic at the Disco. I’m glad they were wrong. While there’s nothing super-complex, Panic’s songs are filled with constant sung harmonies and every single one of those harmonies was spot on. They are energetic, funny, good looking and they sound better live than on CD. They played some retoolings of their older, more popular songs - toning down the electric and blending in a more natural sound and their new stuff is just as impressive and destined to be just as well-liked. They won my heart, though, when Brendon Urie looked out at the crowd and said, “wow, I feel like we’re in a high school battle of the bands!”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

I attended this concert alone and while that may seem strange, I find it extremely enjoyable for a change - I’d say, one in every twenty shows. I go to a lot of concerts. On this night, though, my solitary state may have added to the strange feeling I had with me all evening - a feeling that overshadowed all of the great tunes and, for me, lasted well into the next day. The aforementioned small theatre was, without a doubt, the largest contributing factor but the youthful age of many of it’s sheltered and the smell of that cologne … that Brut or High Karate or whatever all the boys starting soaking themselves in once we got to eighth grade … put it over the top. The flood of feelings the olfactory sense forced combined with my surroundings made me feel as if I was spending the evening at a Rock n’ Roll show in the 50’s or 60’s. Perhaps it was even being filmed to be broadcast like the Ed Sullivan show. Like I said, Ruth Eckerd is already small for a full-sized playhouse with a fly system and large proscenium ensconced performance area. In fact, seeing a concert of this type in the setting of a proscenium theatre is rare these days, especially in a big MSA like the Tampa Bay Area. We have two arenas - one of which seats 20,000 - an outdoor football stadium and an indoor baseball field which occasionally hold shows, an outdoor amphitheatre which holds 20,000 guests and several smaller venues like Jannus Landing which, I believe, squeezes in 2,000. Hell, Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center’s larger playhouse seats over 1,000 more than Ruth Eckerd if proscenium is what you’re going for and perhaps that wouldn’t have felt so strange what with multiple seating levels and all. Instead, we were in this tiny box, standing in front of our plush seats and feeling like the Beach Boys should come out next.

And then dude from Panic said it and it all came together for me. I felt like I was in high school. It was weird - but both a little scary and a little fun - and my actually being alone that night made me remember what it felt like to be a teenager and I was suddenly very glad I wasn’t. I was even more glad when I left the venue and had to pass through hundreds of kids waiting for their rides while I got to jump into my very own, very cool, grown-up priced car (coincidentally, a car teenagers tend to pepper me with questions about) and drive myself to my very own home in what I like to call Tampa.

It’s strange how many feeling one silly concert brought forth but, last night, I was glad to be me.

Although I don’t talk about it often, I’m one of those people whose really cool with my learning difference. Also, as you’ve surely just noticed, I’m one of those assholes that calls it a “learning difference.” This isn’t to be PC or anything overly bleeding-heart like that. This is because Dyslexia, as it affects me, is not an out-and-out disability. It’s a pain-in-the-rear sometimes and I’ve cursed it before but I certainly wouldn’t say I have a disability - especially when it comes to my favorite hobby of cramming as much knowledge into my brain as possible.

I’m having a bad day today, though. That’s what I’ve always said to myself on days like this and those close to me may have heard me confess this aloud when I accidentally call a door a window or use an antonym even though it’s obvious I mean the opposite (I’m known to stumble over shorter/taller/longer, even if I’m gesturing it correctly). I don’t know what brings on a bad day - could be stress or perhaps it’s just when I’m trying to process too much information. Either way, today is one of those days.

On a day like today I will often find myself stuck - digging though my thoughts for the appropriate name for an object and anyone that’s around can usually see my figurative gears turning. I’ll stop mid-sentence and sometimes I’ll stare at that … whatever that thing is … I’m trying to assign a word to that I’m thinking of and if it’s a really bad day I’ll talk it out.

Stove, microwave, blender … refrigerator!

I try to only do that bit when I’m alone as I’ve been appropriately trained (through rulers slapped on desks) not to stutter. Even if no one else can tell, though, a bad day can still make me feel pretty stupid.

I went to a private religious school as a young child and in kindergarten we were learning how to read military style. We’d stand next to our desks and look up at the alphabet. First, we’d point at the letter and say it’s name aloud. Next we’d point at our mouths and pronounce it’s sound and then we’d point back up at the letter and say the name of the picture next to it.

“‘A’ - /æ/ apple”

We did the same thing with blends (bl, br, pl, pr), prefixes, suffixes and the way we learned our addition, multiplication and division was very similar. As an adult whose more inclined towards the Montessori way of teaching I’m surprised that any school in the 1980’s was using this method to teach “mainstream” kids - but for the little girl with Dyslexia it worked. It may not have worked in the way it was intended to but I can certainly read and write.

Here’s one thing I always struggle to explain and let me first say, I’m no doctor and I can’t give anyone the answer to “why.” I see words as pictures. I truly think most people do this but when I try to communicate it to them they always ask for examples and tell me how strange or interesting (read: weird) it is. The same way I look at that certain red fruit and know it’s name is apple is the way I look at letters grouped together and know what to say. I guess you could say I’ve memorized the word’s name. I cannot sound out words. Strike that (figuratively, of course, as actual strikeouts look silly and would not further my point). I can if I take what will sometimes amount to a few minutes thanks to my alphabet boot-camp. Now, at this point in my life we’re talking mostly medical and scientific terms - stuff with ten or more letters, I’m not a total barbarian - as I’ve memorized all your everyday stuff. It helps if this is a word that I’ve heard a bunch of times. Even though this becomes more and more rare with every new word I decode, it’s still pretty embarrassing when it comes to reading names that are spelled in a way I’ve never seen (thanks modern American parents!) or, more often, transliterations.

I think having two distinct alphabets in my head actually helps, though, I can’t tell you how. It’s just an idea. No one reads Slavonic anymore, anyway and people here think the Cyrillic alphabet is just a bunch of commie scribbling.

So, at private school, I ended up getting the kind of intense training older Dyslectics get before anyone even figured out I needed it. This was a miracle, in a way, and has saved me years of potential headaches.

I did have a lot of other give-a-ways when I was a kid. I couldn’t figure out how to tie my shoes till I was about nine or ten. I’m not sure exactly what this has to do with Dyslexia but I’m told by smart people in white coats that it’s “classic.” It has to somehow relate to the reason I have a terrible time following written or spoken directions in order. It sucks when you love to cook but your eyes won’t allow you to look at the next step in the recipe instead of darting around the page until, at some point, you’ve read and understand it all, just not in proper order. Same with factory service manuals, board game instructions - pretty much everything that goes this-than-that.

I also had a terrible time with “right” and “left” and on a bad day I still can’t assign these two relative directions names. It certainly doesn’t help that if you turn around you’ve effectively swapped their meaning.

I can’t read an analogue watch/clock. Look, I get the concept but if I have to stare at it for a couple minutes for it to make sense, than it’s not doing it’s job! Anyway, if “3″ were meant to mean “15″ than it would look like “15.” Can we stick to plain old base-10 with no algorithms, please.

Here’s something I’ll never forget. In first grade we started to learn cursive and this new alphabet really threw me for a loop. The first thing we learned to write was our name - and my name became “Dense.” I dropped the “i” and changed the spelling of my name for a good few months. I didn’t realize how unfortunate this new spelling was until I learned what it meant to be considered “dense” and even at five I was mortified. Now I write in some strange cursive/print blend that looks different every day. Some days I can’t even read my own writing.

Writing. Now there’s something that’s a challenge on a bad day. Say I forget a word in a sentence that I’m typing. “I went to store today” - I’ll type and I catch the mistake and go to correct it. I will invariably place the cursor after the word which I want to place the missed word before making my “corrected” sentence: “I went to store the today.” I almost always catch it after I’ve typed it but even though I do it every single time, I’ve been unable to correct this practice.

There are a few ways that Dyslexia has rendered me an absolute terrible person to deal with. The major one is that I have no patience for people who refuse to at least attempt to learn the proper terminology for equipment they come in contact with on a regular basis. I do my absolute best to never refer to any object as a “thingy” even though this can prove to be a difficult task for me some days. If you have a router in your house and it’s something you rely on every day to provide a network connection between multiple appliances in your home than you should know what it’s called! At least try to assign it a name, even if it’s the brand that stamped on it’s case. It’s been pounded into the heads of Dyslectics everywhere that no one will understand us if we use phrases like “the thing connected to the thing that gets me to the place is broken.” We will force ourselves through repetitive and exhausting exercises to memorize appropriate names for everything so that all the mainstreamers will understand what we’re trying to communicate. Dyslectic kids are the most hurt by this as they are still trying to mentally assign names to simple things like TVs and toasters. Even I’m still confused when people use improper terminology and I’m twenty-six years old. And I’m not saying do this for all of those around you that may be learning while having Dyslexia - do it so you don’t look stupid. That’s why we do it. It’s all vanity.

I’m not sure if it’s just me or if it’s all of the crazy memorization exercises that aware Dyslectics are always performing but me and a few others I’ve met share the common trait of excellent long term memory. This serves me extremely well in my line of work and I rarely have to write certain things down, such as complex passwords that I use frequently. I also tend to remember entire conversations, dreams, trivia, silly facts and the exact wording of songs, movie dialogue and emails. Don’t ever tell me or another Dyslectic something you’d wish we’d forget, because we won’t. This is great for remembering friend’s birth dates and favorite colors but when you reveal that you remember someone’s middle name because you had to check their ID once two years ago or you recite facts of a story a coworker or mere acquaintance rambled off to you in passing, people will think you are weird. Even weirder than they think you are when you call a wall a window. You will always look cool, though, when you’re the one that remembers every play of last nights game so it’s a win-lose.

As with any common learning difference there are some common Dyslectic traits - or perhaps they are straight up myths - that don’t affect me. I very rarely swap or reverse letters in a word, though, I do sometimes reverse order of words in a sentence so I suppose there is some sequencing difficulty there. I do not have ADD. I don’t suffer from any motor skills disorders … that I’m aware of. If I’m walking crooked, someone, please tell me.

I am, though (vanity), always afraid that it’s obvious and when I say something incorrectly I’m fast with my correction and apologetic for my apparent stupidity. Then I take a step back and I know that this makes me look meek and ashamed and I become angry with myself for my lack of subtlety. I’m overtly confident in most things that I do and I fear these two sides I exhibit - my Jeckyll and Hyde - will expose my biggest fear as a Dyslectic which is, simply put, looking stupid. I guess there’s an emotional element to Dyslexia just like there is anything else.

So, anyway, like I mentioned, I’m having one of my bad days and when I’m in the middle of something that’s causing me stress, I like to talk (type) it out. I wouldn’t give up my weird way of reading and assigning sounds/names to objects, though, even if it’s worked for Tom Cruise which I would argue that it didn’t. Even though he’s “cured,” he’s way weirder than I am.