I got my second coronavirus vaccine yesterday, the Moderna option. I have many friends who work in healthcare, and I’ve been following their experiences with COVID-19 vaccination as they have revealed it on social media; I know that some of my friends have had flu-like symptoms with the first and second injections, and a few…

…a neurodiversity advocate, a public speaker, a conference organizer, and an IASAS board executive. I’m also a published poet and essayist. I host a podcast called Weird Sister, and I’m writing a memoir about my very strange brain. I have ADHD, Tourette Syndrome, and many forms of synaesthesia, a trait that confers blended senses. I…

I was doomscrolling Twitter this morning, a practice that I simply must stop, although in all fairness, it’s been a tough 48 hours here in the USA. The vast majority of the people I follow on Twitter are smart, compassionate, and creative, and many of their messages in these days after the January 6th coup…

I am freaked out by things that have holes in them. Swiss cheeses like Emmentaler and Gruyère. Trees with their bark peppered with stowed acorns, the clever work of industrious woodpeckers. Various corals. Honeycomb. And the worst of the worst, the Surinam toad. There’s a name for my fear of holes, trypophobia, which is an aversion to…

Last night, I saw the astronomical phenomenon known as the Christmas Star. Just after sundown, on the winter solstice, the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn hung like a glowing orb over the waters of the Pacific Ocean. Callisto, the second largest of the Galilean moons but the outermost in orbit, was visible as well, all…

In these pandemic days, advocating for human neurodiversity feels like my full time job. With my therapeutic massage practice shuttered due to COVID19 restrictions, I have at least a few hours each day to focus on my efforts to promote neurodivergence as a natural part of human genetic variation. I feel fortunate to know so…

It’s been creeping toward me since late October, when the crops in our garden began to die back. By November, the spectacular autumn gloaming that my neighborhood is known for faded long before I returned home from work, leaving me feeling undernourished by the sun. And now that December has ushered in the dark days…

I’m weird. I’m weird. I’m weird. I say this to myself over and over again, with a great sense of satisfaction paired with relief. I’m weird. I always have been, and I always will be. Nothing’s going to change at this point in my life except my understanding of what it means to be weird.…