Chammi's Blog
May 23, 2022
Simmering in my mind
Words trying to come out
My mouth still locked
Stifles them.
Can I ask, is there a key?
Who holds it?
If not I
Maybe someday I will put that
Key in lock and turn
Embedded Files
10 May, 2022
Doing Good
The thing about doing good is that it makes me feel good. Draconian law says that doing bad will get you punished. 'Punished by who?' I ask. If no one knows you have done something bad, who punishes you? For those whose religions preach an all-seeing God, I suppose it will be God. For those who believe in Karma, that will be the punisher. I personally don’t believe in God. Hoping for a pass from karma too. So, what is left? I think the only need is: 'Does it make me happy?' Nearly always serial bad doers do not look happy. Their faces reflect their inner soul, I think. Only look at the many photos of Donald Trump. Even his smiling face looks fragmented. Distorted by hate, he smirks instead of smiling. His gun-toting followers look the same. Filling one’s brain with hate surely distorts everything in one’s body. Being good is the only way to be.
10 May, 2022
My mom insists I must write about something that makes me happy. Nothing makes me happy like her talking to me. Good food makes me happy too. Rainy days when the air is cool makes me happy. Hot water showers when the water is so hot Mom says, “You will boil!” Let me not forget chocolate. I love chocolate. It is in my genes. My family. I love my family. My dad, my mom, my sibs, my aunts, and uncles, my cousins.
Music is my savior. It saves me from hearing a lot of autistic sounds.
Writing makes me happy.
Merely grateful you did not listen to experts. If you had believed them, I would be in an institution now. No, simply I would be dead.
I love this house with its beautiful balcony. The plants make this balcony beautiful. I love the way it extends our living area. My garden has better trees but I am badly scared of the little thalagoya. It is a harmless giant lizard. Not like Komodo dragons but it is still scary to me. Hacked by mom for being scared of it, I still run back.
October 06, 2021
Fish in my pond frolic free
High in my chair I wish
It were me
But huddled in my great house I know
Fish are not free
Gobbling the food I throw
They have to wait for me
My fish
I stand at the edge
Of my pond
Shake the cup
Of fish food
The fish till then
Lazily twirling their tails
Come to attention
They somehow know
Seeing them flying through
The water
Fills me with laughter
Sept 13, 2021
Lacking other stimulation, I like to gouge the cakes of soap if I find them. Simply find it restful to do that. Then if I find a bottle of lotion it is a party. I pace around lapping up my grief with lotion. I smear it on my hands and drip it everywhere. Back of my mind I know mom will not like it but I have to do this. My sister used to get so mad at me when I stole her expensive lotions. I even wrote a poem about that.
An Apology to My Sister
I steal lotion
From Sassy
Sweet lass Sassy
Sis loses lotion
Loses sweetness
Loosens sassy swearing
Ceases to love me
Ok yet she loves me
Now that she lives in the US and I live here in Sri Lanka she does not have to put up with me raiding her room.
Needless to say, I get lotion from mom who dispenses it gladly. I suspect it is not expensive, she buys it for my sensory gratification. She understands my sensory needs, but she wishes lotion would stay in my hands and not drip on the tiled floor. I must remind her that tile is easier to clean than carpet. The house my parents built in Sri Lanka took into account my particular idiosyncrasies. My mother had a lot of input into the design of the house so we can all live in harmony without my autistic desires driving everyone mad.
30 August, 2021
I am a person with non-speaking autism. I like to keep on writing. I notice many people like me do blogs. I think each one of us has something to contribute to the world's understanding of autism. Daresay we find something useful to do in spite of the lockdown.
Being locked down for me is strangely eerie. As a person with autism, I have struggled for a lifetime with being locked down. My lockdown is internal - my body does not obey my brain. When I want to do anything, even something as simple as getting up from a chair, my companion, usually my mother, has to prompt me many times.
Being locked down internally and externally compounds my difficulties.
It's nice to be able to write again. I am swearing I need to keep a positive outlook. But being locked down makes it hard. I am fearing my sister and brother in the US are in dire straits. I need them to be safe.
Intending to lead a productive life, we (my parents and I) moved back here to Sri Lanka. We established E.A.S.E. Foundation. My vision of productive stimulating lives for people with disabilities became my foundation’s mission. We started a center where children with disabilities, especially autism, came for a plethora of services, all delivered free of charge. Now, because of the pandemic, my productive life is at a standstill. My center where we were teaching others like me is closed. My useful life is on hold.
Page updated
Google Sites
Report abuse