A Quote by Temple Grandin
I am much less autistic now, compared to when I was young. I remember some behaviors like picking carpet fuzz and watching spinning plates for hours. I didn't want to be touched. I couldn't shut out background noise. I didn't talk until I was about 4 years old. I screamed. I hummed. But as I grew up, I improved.
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You can dribble on carpet. I grew up in Queens, and we had carpet in our living room. And actually, even in some of these gymnasiums where we're playing the game, we're on carpet. If you're 12 or 13 years old, you've dribbled on the carpet in your mom's house.
We have to get out of this cultural mindset of putting badges on ourselves and playing the martyr spinning 1,000 plates. We need to be spinning six plates, and doing it well. Otherwise plates tumble and break.
I don't think balance is ever achieved in the full sense of the word. Life is more like a juggling act, spinning plates in the air, allowing some to drop, and picking them back up or adding new ones when the timing is right.
I'm in the game of spinning plates. I'm spinning a boxing plate. I'm spinning a Tae Kwon Do plate. I'm spinning a Jujitsu plate. I'm spinning a freestyle wrestling plate. I'm spinning a karate plate. If I was to put all them down and have one boxing plate spinning, it would be like a load off my shoulders.
I was very, very young when I first started acting. My first movie role I was in, I was eight years old at the time. My mom got me involved in community theater stuff when I was like five or six years old. How I learned to read was by reading the captions on TV, and I grew up from a really young age watching tons of movies and television.
One year Halloween came on October 24, three hours after midnight. At that time, James Nightshade of 97 Oak Street was thirteen years, eleven months, twenty-three days old. Next door, William Halloway was thirteen years, eleven months, and twenty-four days old. Both touched toward fourteen; it almost trembled in their hands. And that was the October week when they grew up overnight, and were never so young any more.
I first came to Delhi with my parents when I was 15 years old. We went to see the Red Fort, and I was walking behind my parents, and some guy who was walking along touched me inappropriately. I screamed, but he was acting so cool about it. I did not create any further scene and left.
When I was five years old, I remember watching the opening of the Oscars with my mother and crying as I watched celebrities walk in on the red carpet. Why would any child cry watching the Oscars? For me, the reason was simple: I wanted to be there so badly that I burst into tears.
I do not remember very many things from the inside out. I do not remember what it felt like to touch things, or how bathwater traveled over my skin. I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.
By the time the discussion starts about a movie, it's like bringing up an old boyfriend. It's like, 'I don't even remember exactly what he was like, and now we have to talk about it?'
Next year, Equality Now will celebrate - if that’s the word - will clock its twentieth year. Two decades of fighting the good fight, fighting the cause, and in case I haven’t been the clear, the cause is that one half of the human race is given the same basic equal rights that the other half enjoys. Or, not given. Given back. That is not a milestone, twenty years, that I intend to go unnoticed. I want to make some noise. I want to make a joyful noise, I want to make too much noise. I want the neighbors to complain. I’m tired of being polite about something that matters so much.
I'm a working musician, so it's what I do. I kind of always have lots of plates spinning, and it's the ones that keep spinning the longest that I end up doing.
He screamed for all he had lost...screamed for the half male he was...screamed for Jane...screamed for who his parents were and what he wished for his sister...screamed for what he had forced his best friend to do...He screamed, and screamed until there was no breath, no consciousness, no nothing. No past or present. Not even himself anymore. And in the midst of the chaos, in the strangest way, he became free.
Hidan: Hey, look at that, it's my headband! You went to the trouble of picking it up and keeping for me? I'm touched. You're a pretty nice guy, Kakuzu, you knwo that? Kakuzu: Shut up. Let's go. Hidan: Let me put it on at least! Okay, I'm coming. Admit it, you like me a little, doncha? Kakuzu: Either you shut up, or I'll kill you. Hidan: Haha, you're embarrassed! I understand.
I'm constantly watching people. Watching their strengths and weaknesses. I find myself going into theater less and less, let alone horror. I gave that up when I was seven or eight years old.
I got into politics when I was eight years old. Six years now. And I got involved because I started listening to talk radio. It goes back to one event. The Democrats filibustered something in the Senate when I was eight years old. I don't remember what it was on and I didn't honestly care when I was eight years old. I cared about the history and the Senate rules.
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