As those of you who read my blog probably know, I support Aspies telling those who are close to them about their condition. However, it took me nine weeks to notify my professors that I have Asperger's. I finally did so today, by first e-mailing them, then orally telling the dean of something-or-other (we have so many deans I can't remember all of them). Although the semester is more than halfway over, I felt that it was still appropriate to see to it that my professors knew, because it can't hurt for them to know, and it may be helpful, if not for me, then for others with Asperger's who attend the school in the future.

What really surprised me was one fact that came out in my conversation with the dean. I had asked if she was able to disclose the percentage of Cooper Union students who had notified her about having Asperger's. Shockingly, only one other student in the past ten years had chosen to mention his or her condition to the dean. I am certain that I had spoken to the correct dean, everyone directed me to her. It is highly unlikely that there are so few Aspies who attend Cooper Union, (the college I attend,) for several reasons.

1) Cooper Union offers majors in Art, Architecture, and Engineering. Those are the only three options, though there are further sub-options within these subjects, such as different fields of engineering.

2) Cooper Union presents a small environment. First, there only are around 500 Engineering students, 150 Architecture students, and 250 Art students. When divided among the different sub-categories, students often are in groups of 30 or less. For example, I'm a Mechanical engineering student scheduled to graduate in 2011, (this term is to be abbreviated as 2011 Mech. E.) For all the special Mech. E. classes, I will be with the same small group of students. This, naturally, is typical of Cooper Union.

These factors, one would think, would make this school something of an "Aspie magnet". Is it possible that there would be so few of us at Cooper Union? If one were to take a random sample of 2,000 people (roughly equal to the number of students that would enter Cooper Union over a ten year period,) and using the 2003 figure of 0.36% of the population having Asperger's, one would estimate that approximately 7 of those individuals would have AS. Similarly, one would estimate that 3 of the 900 current students had Asperger's. Taking the Aspie Magnet into account, one would guess that such figures underestimate the actual Aspie population of the school.

This leads me to believe that many Aspie students would be "closet case" if they could. Doing so is a bad idea for several reasons. First, it limits the professor's ability to help the student. Second, telling authority figures about one's condition makes it possible for them to help others in similar situations. They can use what they learn from you to help other Aspies in several years. Third, telling one's peers decreases the problem of misunderstood behavior. Many things that we do are misconstrued disrespectful. It is good to let people know that we act in a "different" way for a reason. If anyone has a good reason not to tell people about having Asperger's, feel free to share it with me.

On the third-to-last day of camp, nearly my final day of work in their kitchen, I did the inevitable. I just couldn’t work the entire session without causing a disaster of some sort. At my previous job, I had caused a minor flood on the morning of my second day, in addition to many other minor troubles throughout my 14 weeks of volunteering. But here, within the ninth and final week, I caused a minor disaster that, while it hardly affected anyone, made for a rather funny story.

It starts with my being presented with the seemingly harmless task of laying salmon on trays for someone else to cook. I had been told that the boxes of salmon would be too heavy for me to lift, so I needed to find some other way of getting the salmon onto the trays. This was not a problem. I was able to put several salmon into a steamer and use the steamer as a “salm-o-port.” When all twelve salmon were out of the Styrofoam container, I noticed that there were some clear plastic bags of stuff left in the box. Upon examining one such bag, I discovered this stuff to be ice. I threw the sealed bags into the dumpster, figuring that there was no need to put these bags into a garbage bag. I then put the Styrofoam container, whose length was approximately three times its width, into a garbage bag, and threw that into the dumpster. I used the “salm-o-port” to carry the salmon from the other box, and put them onto trays. I then put the Styrofoam container, complete with bags of ice, into a garbage bag, and threw it into the garbage dumpster as well. When I returned, I learned that I had made a mistake. I had laid the salmon on the trays scales-up, when they were supposed to be scales-down. This error was corrected when I flipped the salmon over. At around four o’clock, I was given permission to return to my bunk, while some of the head chefs prepared dinner (the salmon I had placed on the trays.)

So, what was the disaster? I found out when someone from the kitchen found me lying on the grass near my bunk. “Yosef,” she said, “Bruce wants to know what you did with the tuna.”

“What tuna?” I replied.

“The tuna that was with the salmon.”

“There was tuna in the Styrofoam containers?”

“Apparently.”

This was strange. The only other stuff in the boxes was some paper and those plastic bags of ice, which I had…oh, no! “Unless you’re interested in taking a trip to the dumpster, I’ll have to get it myself, because that’s where it is.”

I returned to the dumpsters, where Bruce, the head chef, and some of the others had already figured out what had happened. They used a squeegee to hoist the proper garbage bags from the dumpster, but a search of their contents revealed no tuna. They proceeded to question me about my precise actions. I told them how I had thrown some bags of ice into the dumpster, and they showed me that the lid of one of the boxes had the words “tuna inside” written on the lower right-hand corner in small letters. They asked me to retrieve the tuna myself with the squeegee, given that I had thrown it out in the first place.

It gets worse. As I was struggling to remove the first plastic bag that caught my eye from the dumpster, I asked what this tuna was for. The answer could hardly have been worse. Several weeks earlier, there had been an auction for charity, and Bruce, the head chef decided to auction off “dinner for two.” The main course was Bruce’s famous seared tuna, and the winner was the assistant director of the camp. After five minutes of trying, I managed to get the bag from the dumpster, only to find that this was just a bag of ice. Without losing any confidence, I quickly spotted another bag, and, 10 minutes later, wrestled it from the dumpster, only to find more ice. I saw no other clear plastic bags, indicating that this tuna might not have been in the dumpster after all. After looking at the dumpster for a few seconds, however, I noticed that two such bags were buried by even heavier garbage bags. It would probably take me at least fifteen minutes to remove each of these bags with the squeegee, and I didn’t have the time. I knew what I had to do. There was a ramp that would allow me to enter the dumpster easily, but no device existed to facilitate exit from the dumpster. Fortunately, some members of the kitchen staff found a stepladder that I could use to get out. I entered the dumpster, which had several bees in it, found the tuna within 30 seconds, and, while I was getting out, had a picture taken. Unfortunately, this picture was not saved, due to my unfamiliarity with the recording device. I was told to reveal this story to nobody. While the picture was being taken, however, someone from maintenance staff came to put some garbage into the dumpster, and asked why I had to go in there. As a result of her persistent asking of what circumstances led me to enter the dumpster, I asked her to please threaten me so I could say that she had forced the information from me. In the end, she refused to either threaten me or stop asking why I was in the dumpster, so I told her the story, knowing that she had the sense not to tell anyone who had not seen me in the dumpster. This would not matter. Some counselors had been leading their campers to the busses, which were parked near the garbage area, and had heard people ask “where’s the tuna” and search through the dumpster with the squeegee. It was clear that the assistant director would find out about this eventually, so Bruce came clean to him. Afterward, I decided t immortalize the story, by writing “I survived dumpster dive” on the back of the shirt I had worn into the dumpster. The person who loaned me the sharpie offered to write it for me, drawing a picture of grime dripping from the words “Dumpster dive,” not realizing that this was the shirt I had worn into the dumpster that day, and that it had not yet been washed. The disaster, as bad as it was, was actually quite minor, considering that it was the worst disaster that I caused in those months, and that the tuna, which remained in contact with ice and was in a sealed plastic bag, was not contaminated.

There is a set of Jewish text known as the sayings of the fathers, which consists of advice of the rabbis of thousands of years ago. One particular quote I found quite relevant to Aspies. The quote reads, “Make for yourself a teacher, and acquire for yourself a friend.” I feel that it is important for us to make for ourselves teachers because of our primary weakness. We have trouble determining what is acceptable, so we need a teacher to tell us. However, that is not enough. We need to have individuals who feel the need to provide us advice that we would not feel obligated to follow, rather to think about. Such advice comes from a peer, not a superior. Thus, we need to acquire for ourselves friends, who should be willing to do this. The interesting thing is that the Hebrew word for “Acquire”, קנה is also the Hebrew word for “Buy,” indicating that one is supposed to be wiling to encounter some personal inconvenience for the purpose of finding one such friend. In my opinion, this inconvenience tends to come in the form of spending time that you’d much rather be spending on something else instead socializing with many people until you can form a relationship with someone who can become one such friend. If you feel that no such people exist, my best advice is to look harder and socialize more. There are enough people in society to nearly ensure the existence of a friend for everyone.

I would appreciate the thoughts of other Aspies on the subject.

There have been many isolated incidents in the last week of my life and I wanted to include them all in a single blog entry. Here it goes:

Work fiascos:

I did what?

First the one that was my fault. The chef, Bruce, asked “Yosef, could you please open four cans of marinara sauce?” I went into the storage are, got four can, and opened them one at a time with a can opener. Afterward, Bruce looked and said “There’s just one problem. This isn’t marinara sauce.” Oops!

Pasta problems:

This one wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but Doritte’s reaction was funny. (Doritte is one of the kitchen workers.) While going through the pasta that had been placed in the sink, removing the ice, I found the cover to the drain. “Um, is this supposed to be here?” I asked.

“No,” said Doritte, “It’s supposed to be on the drain, but it came out while I was putting the pasta in the sink. The water was very hot and I didn’t want to hurt myself.”

“Well, is this a problem?”

“Yeah,” said Doritte calmly, as if she found out that a grape had fallen on the floor and was unsuitable for consumption. “Pasta will probably go down the drain and clog it, so we’ll just need to call the plumber.”

Just call the plumber? Doing so would mean that we could not use those sinks, and would probably make a huge mess in the kitchen? How could she possibly have remained so calm? Fortunately, pasta did not clog the drain, so no plumber was necessary.

Bread issues:

One day at lunch, a CIT entered the kitchen saying that the 5 year olds were complaining that the bread was too frozen. When Bruce re-heated it, however, he heated it in the meat microwave. (We were having a dairy meal.) When I asked our משגיח, the person who makes sure that the food is kosher, what should be done, she said, “Throw out the bread.” Unfortunately, it had already been served to one of the tables, and we didn’t know which one.

Do mine eyes deceive me?

How did that happen?

One day, at work, I looked up at the ceiling and saw pasta. Nobody knows how it got there.

Spellcheck, anyone?

On the list of dietary restrictions of the staff members, it lists one person as being allergic to “Plumbs.” Did they mean to write “plums,” or does the guy really swell up when he eats a toilet?

Did she really say that?

Also on the list of dietary restriction of the staff members, it lists one person as “No red meat except on rib night.”

Conversation you don’t want to be at the wrong side of:

You served us what?

Me: “Hey, do you want to know the secret of the salad croutons?”

Someone else: “Sure.”

Me: “You remember those soft pretzels we served as a snack four days ago?

The same someone else: “Yeah,”

Me: “We chopped them up, toasted them, and put them in the salad.”

Less than a week:

Me: “Hey, do you know when we made this manicotti?”

Someone else: “When?”

Me: “Five days ago.”

One point for the team:

Consider the following dialogue:

Me: So, if we’re making 50 boxes of pizza, that comes to 2400slices, which isn’t unreasonable considering that we have 1000 mouths to feed.

Leslie (a cook): It’s good that we have you to do our number stuff.

Me: Really, tell the director of the camp that you should have someone with Asperger syndrome in the kitchen every year.

To the next aspie who gets hired to work in this kitchen: You’re welcome.

One roommate down:

Davi got sacked.

The void may soon be filled:

Mikey, currently non-residential, could occupy his bed.

Alina will faint when she reads this!!!

I’m curious, Alina, what did you think I was going to write?

Sense of empowerment.

When I mentioned my condition to some acquaintances, I was pleasantly surprised to hear them ask “doesn’t that make you great at math and science,” not “doesn’t that make you socially awkward?” Finally, we may be (gasp) getting the respect we deserve!!! (Please feel free to comment on that one.)

Picky eater.

During lunch, one counselor asked for a plum for one camper, saying that this camper refused to eat anything other than plums. Why isn’t this kid’s name on the list of campers with dietary restrictions? (Obviously, the answer was that this five-or-six year old was just being picky that one day, it just seems like a fitting question to ask.)

On second thought, I’ll take a peach.

Today, as I was preparing apples for lunch, I noticed that quite a few of them were moldy. Following what I was told, I placed the ones with no visible mold in the sink to be washed and served, but I personally wouldn’t trust those

On Monday, May 29th, 2007, we said our goodbyes and prepared to return home to the United States, Canada, and, in the case of one member of the program, Denmark. I personally wasn’t so saddened, for although I was saying goodbye to the only substantial group of real friends I had ever had, and was returning to my hometown where I have no friends at all, there were several conditions which alleviated this transition. First, although in my hometown I have no friends, in the next town over live many of my former classmates whom I do not classify as friends, though others with a more liberal definition of the word would. Second, many of my friends from this program will be studying in universities within 10 miles of me. Most importantly, I do not have as great a need for friends as most people do. For these three reasons, I have not spent the past week crying nonstop.

I shall now depart from my narrative to defend a potentially controversial statement in my first paragraph. To all residents of my hometown who feel offended by my exclusion of you from my very short list of friends, I pose the following question: When was the last time you went out of your way to socialize with me? The same question can be dealt to those of you who attended my high school. (Yes, I know some of you constantly did. However, few of you actually felt close enough to answer “yes” to question number 2.) How many of you felt comfortable informing me of the drinking/drug problem? (Yes, I know you did, but you were the only one. The others just laughed when I said that it seemed that the students in the class had a “dark side”.) Note must be taken of the responses of two students when I asked if the class had a “dark side.” One remained silent and the other blatantly lied and said “No.” Additionally, I must mention that I have a very conservative definition of the word “friend.” The reason is that throughout my childhood, my mother would say “Yosef, you don’t have any friends.” (Yeah, that’s my mom for you) As a result I came to use the following definition of “friend.” X is a friend if 1) if there were many people with whom I am as close as X, and 2) even if I had no friends closer than X, then my mom would not say “Yosef, you don’t have any friends.” That being said, I am happy to inform you all that there is not one of you whom I cannot befriend, (no, not even you after the octopus remark), just hardly any of you whom I have befriended yet.

I apologize to those of you who have read that paragraph while having no idea about the people to whom I referred. Now I shall resume the humorous tales of my journey home. First, after packing my suitcases (Only one of which was black. It’s so much easier to identify red and purple bags than black ones,) I realized that there was something packed in the purple suitcase which I wished to access prior to departure. It was then that I discovered that the combination I thought I set on the lock was not, in fact the one I had actually set, giving me no idea of how to open the lock. I decided to forgo access to that object and to try the combinations when I got home. This plan was thwarted at the airport when one of the workers said, as my bags were being X-rayed, “excuse me, is that your bag? We saw something suspicious and must now search all your bags.” They broke the lock off my bag, saving me the trouble of unlocking it, and eventually let me proceed.

Another strange event occurred when I actually set foot in my apartment. My family has two dogs both Shih-tsus, one of whom I had not yet met because my family acquired him while I was gone. Upon my return, Raffi, the new dog, barked at me incessantly. Reena, the other dog, recognized my scent and started attacking Raffi to defend me. It was rather funny to see the two dogs battling each other that way.

The last humorous story occurred when I tried to make falafel. The recipe I used did not specify how much water to add to puree the chickpeas, so I added too much water, leaving a mix that could not be fried as falafel. My mom said that the mix might be salvageable as falafel pancakes, which she made and which tasted quite good, though not much like falafel. The trouble was that we were left with so much leftover mix that we could not keep it, so we had to dispose of it in the toilet. As I did so however, I created a partial obstruction with the liquid falafel mix. It was then that it occurred to me that we just might have been the only family in the history of the building who had managed to clog the toilet with falafel.

Well, all in all, it’s good to be back home.

I apologize for leaving such a gap between blog entries. The last few weeks of my program were quite hectic. I received more advice about how to behave without offending people.

#1. If someone is not looking you in the eye during conversation, they may wish that you would stop speaking. At such a time, it is good to test to see if this is the case. I recommend doing so by saying “Sorry. I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Make sure to say it that way to make it seem as though you are expecting your peer to say that you are boring him or her. If he or she does not, then there is no reason not to keep speaking. Even if they were lying to save your feelings, you have every reason to continue the conversation because your friend had the opportunity to admit that there was a problem, but chose to ignore it, thus imprisoning his or herself.

#2. There are times when you may want to say something, but something draws your attention from this. On some of these occasions, it may be awkward for you to say what you were going to say. This occurs when the topic of conversation changes and the person with whom you are conversing does not ask “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Just over a week ago, the Conservative Yeshiva held a shabbaton, or weekend retreat, at alon tavor, which I was allowed to attend for a small fee because I attended the Yeshiva last semester. This event included, among other things, a tisch, (yiddish for table). At a tisch, which usually occurs after dinner on the sabbath and holidays, there is usually much singing and some drinking. I chose, of course, to partake of the former without the aid of alcohol. The average passerby, however would not have guessed that this was the case.

My behavior was completely normal, until I tried to lead ha’aderet v’ha’emunah, a song intended for slightly rowdy environments. I succeeded in leading the song, but it seemed to put me on a higher energy level. I later realized that this effect was the result of my losing my social inhibitions. This change in my behavior remained even after I had finished the song, causing one student to say “There is definitely way too much alcohol in this boy,” although he knew that I choose not to ingest the drug. I continued to behave slightly drunk until I left the event due to lateness of the hour. Upon leaving, however, I was able to regain my inhibitions and behave appropriately for the outside world. Thus, I developped a new reason never to get drunk. I am perfectly capable of, when the situation calls for it, abandoning my social inhibitions. When I leave that setting, however, I want to be able to regain them in 30 seconds or less. To do so, i cannot have alcohol in my bloodstream.

If one were to examine one of the cells of my body, one would find a complete set of Human DNA. As far as I know, that is the only criterion for classification as human. For this reason, I find it confusing that some of my behaviors have been described as “inhuman.”

The specific behavior of mine which I have heard described as “inhuman,” is apathy. To be honest, my peers have only ever described similar behavior in others to me as such, thus never calling me inhuman. In my case, the issue is that I cannot understand what other people feel unless I imagine myself feeling those feelings. This process of imposing another’s feelings upon yourself by placing yourself in his or her situation is commonly known as putting one’s self in another’s shoes, and is a good method for egocentric people (myself included) to circumvent the problems caused by egocentrism. Other methods I use to avoid harmful behavior include taking action out of concern. When I do this, I factually know that some situation would lead to his or her incurring some loss. I then logically realize that it would be preferable not to put them in that situation. Through these two methods, I can give the illusion of empathy, when I cannot feel what another feels unless I imagine myself feeling it.

Because of this, people seem to doubt whether or not I should be considered human by the strictest of standards. The most heinous of crimes can only be committed when the victim is dehumanized. Do people mean to suggest that I, along with some others, have any less than the full set of human rights because we must use a more cognitive process to take another’s feelings and thoughts into account? If not, then why do people use the term “inhuman” in those situations? I find it very difficult not to lose my temper when I hear people describing myself and others as inhuman when I consider the worst effects of dehumanization.

For several months I have been posting blog entries stating what I consider to be the desired behavior for people with Asperger Syndrome who wish to eliminate the disadvantages without losing its perks. The main points I bring up in my entry titled "In case any of you are looking for help."

1. Tell people of your condition.

2. Recognize when your peers will never accept anyone who is not "normal," This is rare, but it is important to identify when you are in such a group.

2א) Make sure people realize that you are a nice person. If they do not, they will be much less likely to help you.

3) Don't worry about being a little bit different from those around you. They won't care much either.

4) When you feel that you need to say somehing that your target will not want to hear, tell it in such a way that he or she will expect you to say what you will say before you say it.

5) Find out what faux pas you make, specifically telling people "If I do anything that bothers you or makes you uncomfortable, please tell me aout it." Then consider changing that behavior.

Please contact me somehow with your feelings on this advice. Do you think it would work? Would you have anything to add or remove from this list?

Thanks.

You know that really annoying thing that I do?

Come on, you know what I'm talking about.

Yes, that.

It's really annoying, isn't it?

You now exactly what I'm talking about...

Unfortunately, I don't. If I did, and if I realized how annoying it was, chances are I would have stopped quite some time ago. Unfortunately, you haven't told me about this issue, so I continue to exhibit this behavior. Meanwhile, you are so annoyed that you speak ill of me behind my back, and even if you don't, your friends will. So please, just tell me what I'm doing wrong, so that I at least have the opportunity to change things, so that you can live your life without my annoying behavior, and so that people might stop speaking ill of me."

This is a message I try to communicate to my friends, though usually in the single sentence "If there's anything I do that bothers you, please let me know, or I'll just keep doing it." I recommend that you say the same things to your peers. The truth about what people think of your behavior may not be what you wan to hear, but it is still something that is good to know

The events recounted in this blog entry took place on the last day of Passover and the following day, though I did not want to post it at that time because I realized that I would have posted four consecutive narrative entries, with no Asperger’s-related entries in between.

There were two strange incidents that occurred to me on the last day of Passover and the night that followed. My friend Phil and I had decided to spend that day in Ts’fat. We did not realize how long the bus ride was, however. Though we arrived at the Binyamin youth hostel at a good time, this meant that we would be returning to our cities in the south a great deal later than expected. That evening, when I went looking for a synagogue, the first one I stumbled across was a Tunisian synagogue. During the evening prayer service, one of the members of the Congregation passed around a box of brown powder, of which people were taking samples and sniffing. I did so, and only afterward did I ask the person next to me what I had sniffed. His one word reply shocked me, given that I am from the United States. “Tobacco,” he said. What?! I sniffed what?! It was true. Despite my hard-line anti-drug policy, I had sniffed snuff. I was, for that moment, a snuff-sniffer. Apparently, this is a tradition in Moroccan and Tunisian Synagogues.

The other incident deals with the trip back to our cities. We planned to take a bus to Jerusalem, then each take busses from there, Phil to Be’er Sheva, I to Ein Zurim. The problem was that it took us so long to get to Jerusalem, that when we got there, the central bus station was closed. We had to spend the night in the Heritage house in Jerusalem. Phil’s cell phone battery was dead, and mine was dying. It was more important that Phil call his madrich than that I call mine, because his group was taking a trip the next day, whereas I would just be late for work. Phil left a message on his madrich’s phone, and when I tried to call mine, my battery died. I finally called my madrich from a pay phone in the central bus station the next day. When I returned to kibbutz, I learned that the entire group was worried about where I was, and had started calling everyone they could to find out information about my whereabouts. Since they knew I had been in Ts’fat that day, they figured that I probably just had trouble getting back from there, but were worried about the fact that I did not call them (whoops!)

Here’s the math behind the trick. You use the remainders when divided by 11 and 7 to discover the remainder when divided by 77, which you then use with the remainder when divided by thirteen to find the remainder when divided by 1001. Here’s how you do it. (You may want to write this down in words you can understand better)

Let the large number be known as A. When A is divided by 11, it yields a remainder. Let that remainder be known as B.

When A is divided by 7, it yields a remainder. Let that remainder be known as C.

When A is divided by 13, it yields a remainder. Let that remainder be known as D.

When A is divided by 1001, it yields a remainder. Let that remainder be known as E.

When A is divided by 77, it yields a remainder. Let that remainder be known as F.

To make things less confusing, let’s assume that 12345678 is A. When divided by 11, this yields 4. Your volunteers will tell you this. You now know B (in this case, 4). Ask your volunteers to divide A by 7. When 12345678 is divided by 7, the remainder is 2. You now know C (in this case, 2). Ask your volunteers to divide A by 13. Meanwhile, use this time to figure out what F is. Because 77 is a multiple of both 7 and 11, F should have the same remainders when divided by 7 and 11 as A had. In this case, this means that because A, when divided by 11 yielded a remainder of 4, and when divided by 7 yielded 2, the same should be true of F. Now continuously add 11 to 4 until you get a number that yields a remainder of 2 when divided by 7. 4, when divided by 4, yields a remainder of 4, 15 yields 1, 26 yields 5, and 37 yields 2, the number you were looking for. Thus F is, in this case, 37. It also pays to find F’s remainder when divided by 13, in this case, 11. You’re almost done now. When they tell you the remainder when divided by 13 (in this case, 7), ask your volunteers to divide the number by 1001. While they do this, you are using D and F to find the all-important E. Divide F by 13 in your head, so that you can the remainder that that yields. Then you could continuously add 77 to that number, and find which one, when divided by 13, yields D. However, there is a shortcut to this. 78 is a multiple of 13, so when you add 77 to any number the remainder goes down by 1. (If the remainder started out as 0, it becomes 12.) Thus, you can, pretty quickly, find the number of times you need to add 77 to D. Or, you could multiply 77 by this number, and then add D. In this case, where F’s remainder when divided by 13 is 11, and D is 7, you would add 77 to 37 four times. Alternately, you could multiply 77 by 4, and add 37, to get 345. 345 is the final answer for which you are looking. You may wish to perform some theatrics to make it look like you received a psychic message.

NT’s have no idea how this trick is done. The time I performed this trick in front of a large audience (25 high school graduates in their gap year) none of them had any idea of how I did it. This group included 2 people who were on their high school math teams, a third student who had received an IB diploma, and some other students who had been accepted to some of the top universities in the United States and Canada. The only problem that can occur with this trick is that it takes approximately 7 minutes, so your audience may become impatient near the end.

P.S. It has come to my attention that I had not posted the full version of my "This one was NOT my fault" blog entry. I have since corrected this error, so you may re-read it with the ending included.

(Comments)

I had already tried calling my friend, Gabriel, but after his phone had rung four times, I figured he was asleep, and would much rather not be bothered. I had already been walking for ten minutes, and realized that if I took to my habit of losing my way the results could be disastrous. I decided to call the director of my program to ask for directions, but realized that he may interpret my words as a plea for his aid. I scrolled up on my list of contacts, deciding whether or not each name was one worth calling. Yael may also have interpreted my words as a request for her intervention, Simeon was unfamiliar with the area. The next name was Shoshana. I could conjure no reason not to call her. I pressed the “send” button. Unfortunately, the sound that radiated from the device contained the words “Cellcom shalom. Lo nitzlach l’hashlim et hasichah k’mo she’chiygah.” How was it that I had not noticed that Shoshana’s number was not properly entered in my phone. When I examined the number, I realized that there were one too may digits in the number. A 5 had mysteriously worked its way into my phone’s memory. Upon redialing the number sans the extra figure, I was relieved to hear the sweet, comforting sound of a ring, followed by the more comforting sound of a friendly voice uttering the kindly word “hello.” Unfortunately, my response was tainted with the anger I was feeling, though not toward my partner-in-conversation.

“Ask me why I’m walking back from the Be’er Tuvia bus stop at 11:30 at night,” I said.

“Yosef, why are you walking back from the Be’er Tuvia bus stop at 11:30 at night?” Shoshana inquired with the tone of one who is truly curious as to the reason someone would embark on such a silly journey.

“I’m glad you asked,” I responded. And I recounted the tale of my recent malfortune which would soon become my biggest complaint about Israel’s public transportation system. The Passover seder had been the previous night, and I had been invited to a family in K’far Saba. I planned to return by taking a bus to the Tel-Aviv train station, then a train to Ashqelon, and finally a bus to Ein Zurim. It was during this last part of my trip that things went amiss. I had taken precautions by calling Gabriel and asking for the names of the bus stops immediately before Ein Zurim. I now knew that when I saw signs for Masu’ot Yitzchak or Mercaz Shafira, that the next stop was Ein-Zurim, and that either the 301 or the 437 would drive where I needed to go.

On the 437 bus, I stared though the window, searching for signs for any of the stops I needed. I saw the sign for Masu’ot Yitzchak, and new my destination was nearby. At the Mercaz Shafira bus stop, an Israeli woman boarded the bus. I knew that the Ein Zurim stop was next, so I pushed the button signaling to the driver that a passenger wished to disembark at the next stop. Unfortunately, the driver didn’t stop until Be’er Tuvya. Before my departure from the bus, I exclaimed in anger that I had pressed the button before the Ein Zurim stop, and after leaving the bus, but while the doors were still open, I called the driver an idiot. Losing no time, I headed back to Ein Zurim, trying, meanwhile, to call Gabriel to ask for the walking directions. When he did not pick up his telephone, I assumed he was sleeping (a very reasonable action for a teenager at 11:20 PM). I continued walking, and realized, 10 minutes and 2 bus stops later, that I was walking along the side of route 3. If any cars ran off the road, I may have been dealt a fatal blow. It was crucial, therefore, to minimize the time of my journey. This fact only gained truth in my mind when I realized that if I were to make a wrong turn, I would probably not notice my error. It was for this reason that I called Shoshana, who had some advice.

“From where you are,” she said, “You could call a Shærut, it wouldn’t take long and wouldn’t cost much.”

“If I were to tell them that I am on the side of the road between Be’er Tuvya and Ein Zurim, would they find me?”

“Well, you may want to wait until you find a landmark.”

“Thanks.”

“Feel free to call me if you need any more help with anything”

Twenty minutes later, I arrived at a landmark: the Shafir bus stop (Not to be confused with the Mercaz shafira stop.) I realized that I could probably walk to Ein Zurim before a Shærut could arrive, but just to be certain I called Shoshana again to present the idea to her. She agreed that walking was probably the best course of action to take.

Within five minutes I passed the Ein Zurim bus stop, where my friends and I had waited a few minutes for a bus to take us to Jerusalem for Purim, a month earlier. I thought of that time, and realized that it had felt like so much longer than a mere month. I turned the corner, and walked along the side road, away from the dangers of the traffic speeding by on route three. I passed by the traffic circle marking the entrance to the kibbutz. It was at that traffic circle where, two weeks earlier, the pizza guy had had to stop because he could not venture any further without the risk of losing his way, and I was asked to meet him there to pick up the pizza. At that point, I realized that I had not yet counted the Omer that night. (Counting the Omer is a ritual where Jews count the 49 days, starting from the second day of Passover, and ending on the day before Shavu’ot) After fulfilling that obligation, I passed, on my left, the dining hall, where I worked on the kibbutz, and on my right, the Synagogue, where the morning prayer service would begin in less than six hours. At 12:14 AM, I arrived at my caravan, relieved that, after my night’s adventures, I was finally home.

(Comments)

As I have indicated in several of my previous blog entries, I do much thinking about my personality and how my condition affects it. Several days ago, I came across one of the more interesting and, unfortunately, more disturbing details of my personality. When I reflect on this find, I discover that this is not so negative at it may seem, but rather that it provides a gateway to both negative and positive outcomes.

I do not believe that I would have made this discovery were it not for a visit from my cabin-mate’s sister and two of her friends. They were participating in a program that permits American high-school students to spend a year in Israel while still learning the material required by their states. One of them had decided to take advantage of the opportunity to spend the Sabbath with her brother (my cabin-mate) on kibbutz Ein Zurim. In the first conversation I had with them, I used my normal vocabulary, which differs significantly from that of the average NT my age. Throughout this conversation, I got the sense that they found my words amusing, and thought I may have heard them comparing me to others either from their programs or from their hometowns. After they departed to another cabin, I began thinking about how these high school students were rather unreceptive to that which goes against the expected.

Though that incident was certainly odd, the other time I conversed with my cabin-mate’s friends would yield an even weirder conversation. At dinner the next evening, I commented on something constituting unusual behavior, mentioning that everyone engaged in odd behavior. At this point, the person sitting to my right (not one of our guests) said that only females were called sl*ts for unusual behavior. I mentioned that no one had called our guests s-l-*-t’s. Our guests heard this and decided to have some fun by asking me to define that term. I responded saying that an s-l-*-t was a “pr*m*sc*o*s being”. (I have censored the term only to ensure that children unfamiliar with the word are unable to simply ask someone what it means). They then falsely accused me (jokingly, of course) of referring to them as such beings. I played along, defending myself, because I knew that I could provide a logical defense of my case, and then feel a sense of victory for proving my point to be true. The conversation veered away from the path I wished it would take, and accidentally said things that enabled them to falsely accuse me of calling them stupid and naïve, in addition to re-using their initial allegations, none of which they meant seriously, but which they were just stating to see how I would react. After they had left, I realized that they were probably making fun of me because I am an easy person of whom to make fun.

This was my recent discovery about myself. At first, I thought that this was a major disadvantage whose effects I had simply not noticed, and that I needed to re-think the validity of my statement “Asperger Syndrome is an advantage”. Within minutes, however, I realized that the others on my program were not making fun of me nearly so much. I asked myself why that might be, and came up with the theory that because they have known me for quite some time now, they have become accustomed to my behavior and also have more of a moral issue with making fun of me. However, I realize that the initial period of making fun of me serves to put me on their maps, so that it is actually easier for us to become friends a month or two later. Thus, I view this detail of my condition as a microcosm of AS-it can be an advantage or disadvantage, and if you know how to use it correctly (as I hope most aspies will within the next 20-30 years) it will do you more good than harm.

(Comments)

The holiday began on Saturday night. I was on my Kibbutz, and my particular group arranged to have a party in one of the buildings on kibbutz. Fortunately, this party did not contain alcohol. People had, against the rules, stored alcoholic beverages in their cabins however, and became drunk before the party began. The director of our program, Yossi Garr, then entered every cabin in which memebers of our program were staying and removed all the alcoholic beverages he found. This issue, however, was one of the more minor ones I encountered.

There was another party occurring on the kibbutz, this one for all the members of kibbutz. Some of the members of my program attended this event, and I followed them with the intention of socializing with them. One of the people with whom I work, (my boss's son, to be precise,) said I should have an alcoholic drink. Such drinks were available at this event. I told him that I didn't drink alcohol, so he said "Have some punch, then," and brought me some in a styrofoam cup. I then asked again, "Are you sure that there is no alcohol in this?" and he insisted that there was none. I sipped a bit, and thought I tasted alcohol, so I asked him if he was sure that there was no alcohol in it, and for a third time he claimed that the drink was non-alcoholic. I went to ask one of my friends the same question, and I saw my boss's son whisper something into his ear. By this point I was very suspicious, and I inquired of the head of the dining room as to the nature of the drink. He informed me that it was, in fact, an alcoholic punch. Enraged by my co-worker's mischief and dishonesty, I ran, styrofoam cup of punch in my hand, in search of the man who had wronged me. In my search, I found my friend, and informed him that there was alcohol in the punch, and said to him "I may be about to regret what I'm about to do." About 10 seconds later, I found my quarry, dancing on the dance floor, with his back turned to me. As I threw the cup at him, he turned, and the cup struck him on the shoulder, leaving some of the drink upon him. He apologized for his behavior, and I said that I was no longer holding it against him, because I had taken my revenge. When people asked my if I was okay, I told them "The score have been evened, I am fine now." I returned to the party for members of my program, and was apalled by the sexual themethat was present in the dancing. I decided to do a simple but classic Chassidic dance I had learned at my high school. The rest of the night progressed without trouble.

The next day, things went well, and that afternoon I took a bus to the city of Jerusalem, where the holiday takes place a day later. While I was on Kibbutz, I purchased 3 liters of strawberry banana juice so that I could enjoy it over the rest of the holiday. At the Purim meal, my friend read a very silly "Purim Kiddush", which is only understandable to one who had significant knowledge of the Jewish liturgy, so I will not bother explaining it in this entry. When I arrived in Jerusalem, I wandered the city a bit, and bought a kilogram of Purim pastries known as Hamentashen. I snacked on them a bit, washing them down with strawberry-banana juice. That evening, I attended the service at congregation Moreshet Yisrael, the one I had attended much several months earlier. There, the cantor led the service humorously, chanting the prayers to the high holiday liturgy, then to some famous operas and songs from musicals. After the service, there was a party for the members of the synagogue, members and alumni of the Conservative Yeshivah (myself included) and anyone else who wanted to pay 10 New Israeli Sheqalim to enter. This party went well, until one of my (Ahem) friends form the Yeshivah started to act weird, or shall I say weirdly unlike the other weird ways in which he was know to behave. I am speculating that he was intoxicated at this time. He arranged for a photograph to be taken of the two of us, at which point he pinched my rear end. After dealing me a blow to the groin, I felt that I could not let him feel victorious, so I bluffed, saying that he should not pick on Aspies unlesshe wanted 15 computer viruses. When he asked me what that meant, I simply responded "That means I'm connected." When I left the party, I went down to Ben Yehudah Street to see what was going on. I was apalled by the behavior of those who did not seem to know that there was more to life than alcohol. I retired to the youth hostel in which I was staying and sat in the lobby, sipping my strawberry-banana juice, enjoying it.

When I awoke the next day, I did not have plans for much of the day. I went to the prayer service at the Conservative Yeshivah, where the liturgy was, once again, read humorously. After the service, there was a meal served, During which I socialized with many of my friend from the Yeshivah and from the program which I am currently attending. After the meal, the faculty put on a comical play satirizing the Yeshivah. Afterwards, the students put on a similarly comical play with the same goal. This play featured songs such as "(Ain't no sugya long enough, ain't no hebrew hard enough, Ain't no midrash long enough) to stop my chevrutah with you," "(Minyan here goes) for the longest time" "Bring back my monkey to me" and "Reb school" (The latter was a parody of "Summer nights") During these plays, teachers played the roles of other teachers, students played the roles of other students and of teachers. One student did a great imitation of the security guard outside, who while he doesn't stop people from entering for security reasons, would frequently ask peopel to do favors for him, or run errands for him, or engage in conversations, all while the students are running late. These plays were probably the highlight of my holiday. Afterward, I went to a nearby park and snacked some more on some Hamentashen and strawberry-banana juice. Later, I went back to kibbutz, because I realized that ther wasn't much else I wanted to do in Jerusalem. Unfortunately, though I knew that the bus stop was shortly after Qastinah, I was not sure just how many stops afterward, so I had to push the button to stop the bus before every stop after then. Thankfully, at all but 2 or 3 of those stops people were getting on or off the bus anyway. When I returned to my room, I recorded a video of myself singing a purim song I had written two days earlier, dressed in my Purim costume, with an Israeli flag in the background. My costume, if you were wondering, was the following: I wore two yarmulkes, one of which was folded in half. I shaved the left half of my hair and the right halfof my beard. I wore 2 button-down shirts which were buttoned together, so that my left shirt looked different from my right shirt. I wore dark blue shorts over my khaki pants, one white sock and one black sock, and my shoes did not match.

Overall, my holiday was not that bad. It was a bit better than my normal days. However, one would normally expect better on the most festive day, er, two days, of the year.

(Comments)

I am re-extending my offer for help. See my pervious blog entries to see what I am talking about. I have been able to figure out a few on what to do if you get the sense that people don't like you much.

1. Tell people of your condition. This will lead people to attribute your mistakes to something out of your control. Don't worry about people thinkingyou're a weird freak. It is very likely that they either won't think you're a weird freak, or that they'd think you were one even if you didn't tell them.

2. If the particular group of people you find yourself with accept no one other than the standard NT predictable people, there is not much you can do, because it is too difficult to try to be someone you're not. The best thing to do is to wait for those particular people to mature, or try finding another group.

Fortunately, this is not usually the case. In the groups of people with which I have found myself like most people as long as they are nice people. For this reason it becomes imperative for people not to mistake you for a nasty person. If you are, in fact, a nasty person, then there is not much I can help you with. I can only advise you to change those habits, and state that if you were an NT, you'd probably be just as unpopular.

Assuming that you are trying to be nice, but that people don't seem to think so, I have the following advice.

a) Do favors for people wheneverthe situation presents itself. I have heard people state that they dislike others because they ask help from others without ever offering to provide help in return.

b) When you make a faux pas, as everyone, NT or not, does, apologize for it, stating that you did not intend to offend or disrespect the hurt individual. If you did intend to hurt or disrespect the individual, perhaps this should be an opportunity for introspection and thinking about why you meant to hurt the person, and if there was a better way of handling the situation.

3) About being a freak...

Well, you're always going to be a bit different than most NT's, but people don't care as much about that as they claim to.

It should have very little effect on your ability to form friendships. This is because people will think "Sure, he/she's a bit wierd, buthe/she's gota good heart. I wouldn't call him'hermy best friend, but we are friends nonetheless."

In the workplace...

The followingparagraph isjust educated speculation. I have yet to apply for a job.

This may pose a problem for finding a job. If you appear to be a stupid weird freak, it will be an issue. However, if you appear to function on the same level as other people, but in a different manner, then as long as you can do your job well you should have no trouble finding and keeping a job.

For finding a boyfriend/girlfriend...

This may pose more of a problem. If you recall, your friends may not consider you to be thier best friend. This means that people may not like you enough to date you either. However,the issue of being physically attractive to the individual in question will certainly play a major role in that person's opinion of you. I have little experience in the area, so I cannot provide much more information.

4) Being tactful.

This seems to be very important to people, though I have yet to determine the reason why. I have recently discovered the secret behind it. THE PERSON TO WHOM YOU ARE SPEAKING MUST EXPECT YOU TO SAY THAT WHICH YOU WILL SAY BEFORE YOU SAY IT. Do this and people will not be so hurt by what you need to say.

5) finding out what your mistakes of the past have been.

First, tell people that if you do anything that they wish you wouldn't do, that they should tell you what itis so that you know not to do it again. Do not expect this to work on everyone. You are asking people to do something they are not used to doing. This should, however, helpyou identify a few individuals who are willing to help you in this manner. Then, when you do something that you suspect may have offended another, ask one of those people ifyou did anything wrong.

If you have any questions about the material of this entry, or a problem I did not address, please PM me, and I will try to respond to you as soon as possible.

the geeks shall rise.