Okay, I don’t know what to say about this, but we went today to Palmetto Island State Park.
It certainly was interesting, but I am not sure that it was fun.
First, I need to so some food preparation.
Onions are important.
Okay, so, in the afternoon, we entered the park.
We found a bathroom.
Then, we found someone that we knew, and, while that was nice, it was also an experience that only furthered my feelings of isolation, irreversible loss, and shame.
There are so many metaphors here. He didn’t even ask how I was doing or show any interest in who I now am, what I am doing, or what I have become. I truly have fallen.
We were at the boat launch.
The encounter was a pleasant diversion despite the hurtful feelings that it caused in me.
It’s really nobody’s fault.
They’re good people.
The interplay between that encounter and the feelings that it fostered with this natural landscape in which the encounter happened has meaning.
It has meaning due to my perpetual feeling of, at once, being both at-home and very out of place in the flat, humid-subtropical wetlands of my homeland.
I understand that my sensory profile due to autism is a factor.
I think that I might feel most naturally at home among the usually-cloudy regions of the Pacific Northwest and southern British Columbia or similar lands in the northern part of the Appalachian Mountains on either side of the US-Canada border.
Sometimes, I do live the sunshine, but, more often, I need shade.
I don’t know how I’d feel any better if such an encounter with these people happened back home and had I never been evicted from home.
I mean, I do know how it would feel better.
I know myself much, much better now, though.
There was this neat pond.
I was trying to extract some joy from this outing.
It was tough, though.
I wish that I could do better than just having “learning experiences”.
Well, I came here.
I am glad that people get more joy here than I am getting here.
This is southern Louisiana!
Okay, we are leaving.
That was nice. I’m glad that I came. I doubt that I will come again.
This is the end.
Merci.
Jim
