It's an anxious time

Well, my book goes on sale in four weeks. The countdown starts. I am about to place myself in front of the larger public. For those of you who came out of the closet, that pre-emergent anxiety is just how I feel now.

So far, the reviews are all good. But what if I miss something, or screw up? There are so many things I don’t see and hear. Conversational nuance. Take the simple phrase, “Don’t crush that dwarf! Hand me the pliers!”

Normal people, hearing that, just know where the emphasis lies. I don’t. Is it the dwarf? Do they emphasize “dwarf” so the others grab him instead of the other drunk guy on the stool? Is it the pliers? Instead of the wire cutters? I grabbed little Mikey Parks back in seventh grade, and they packed me off to the principal’s office when he yelled.

Or is it “crush” that’s the key word? Maybe there’s a choice there. . . squash him or toss him. I’ve had that happen to me. Maybe you have too . . .six drunk guys grab you and who knows where they toss you. In the pool . . .off the edge of the building . . .

I got tossed onto a table once, in a bar, and then one of the guys sitting under me got up and walloped me with the chair.

But I digress. That was then, and this is now. Today, I appear much more civilized. I have already mastered the skills of personal appearance and hygiene on my own. Now, I must master the skill of Being in Public. A scary thought for many Aspergians like me.

I will try and stop by our Asperger Association of New England group meting today, and seek inspiration. There’s an interesting crowd there, for sure.

Two days ago, I had a British photographer here, with his Irish assistant, to photograph me for a magazine over there. What a strange feeling. I’ve taken tens of thousands of photos, but I have never before been the subject . . . “Step over there. Forward a step. Right-o” Changing setups, changing places, changing clothes. Even my hair.

Very curious.

Tomorrow, I go to New York for something called Media Training. I’m not exactly sure what that consists of, having not yet been trained, but I think they interview me on camera, and we watch it together, and we talk about improving my performance.

What sort of improvements will they have in mind, I wonder? Will I leave the training with my back straight and my head tall? Will I become an ardent Bush supporter? Will I leap from a building, convinced I am Superman?

People are skeptical. They say, “Yeah, right! When pigs fly! You’re always gonna be a geek!”

But pigs do fly. Right now, at the Champlain Valley Fair, pigs are flying around the track, and I am missing it. Just to get ready for this, the appearance of my book. I sure do love a pig race, though. The gate opens, and those pigs thunder around the track, thousands of pounds of rolling bacon-sandwiches-in-the-making, chasing that mechanical Snickers bar. Damn! Thos pigs are fast.

I was seated by the edge of the track once, and two champions tangled it up and hit the railing. Almost crushed me as the rest of the field thundered by. One of the handlers came by, with a bag of Gummi Bears, and got them off me.

I hope at least a few of you will think of me when you attend the pigs races at your county fair. And while you’re there, think of me at the tractor pull, the pie eating contest, and the concerts.

Next week I have reporters and interviews for all sorts of big magazines. Then the Today show is coming to film me. They’re the first of the network television people. There’s radio to get ready for too. Diane Rehm has invited me onto her show, on NPR, and there are more after that. What will I say? Well, I had enough thoughts to fill a book already. Hopefully they won’t desert me now.

I sure am lucky, though, to have the support of all these communities. The Aspergians. The bloggers. The teachers. My friends. I'm sure I'll be OK. All of you believe in me. Meanwhile, I have to go crank up the tractor and mow the meadow and the lawn and then remove my neighbor's dead pine tree.