The Terminology Post

Note: This post has been back-dated for organizational purposes (aka, to put it with the other intro posts).

I might use some unfamiliar terminology or Abbreviations. In order to avoid confusion, I’m creating this post.

Please let me know if there are any terms in my blog that are unfamiliar to you, so that I can expand this post! Remember, I don’t know what you do or don’t know and the only way I’ll learn is if you tell me.


A lot of times, I will reference Non-profits by their Abbreviations. But to those unfamiliar with them, this can be confusing. I know that I wouldn’t know the abbreviations for organizations in the field of Physics or Mathematics!

ASAN- Autistic Self Advocacy Network (Wikipedia | Website)

NYLN- National Youth Leadership Network (Website)

ANI- Autism Network International (Wikipedia | Website)

PFI- Pennsylvania Families, Inc. (Website ; The State Wide Family Network for Pa)

PYLN- Pennsylvania Youth Leadership Network (Website)

aka, Alphabet Soup.

ASD- Autism Spectrum Disorders

AD(H)D- Attention-Deficit (Hyperactivity) Disorder

DoEd- Department of Education

MSM- Mainstream Media

Sometimes reading about a topic can be like trying to read Les Miserables in the original French with only a little French under your belt. While I try to keep acessible, I do use some terms that could be unfamiliar to some people.

Neurodiversity- (n) an idea which asserts that atypical (neurodivergent) neurological development is a normal human difference that is to be recognized and respected as any other human variation. (Urban Dictionary | Wikipedia)

On Spectrum; Spectrumy- someone with an Autism Spectrum Diagnosis or suspected diagnosis.

Spectrum Cousin- Someone with other Neurological/Developmental divrgences such as ADHD, OCD, and others that might share traits with those on spectrum. For example, my mother has ADD, Narcopelsy, and Fibro Mylgia and would be considered a “Cousin.” Also known as an “AC” or “Autistic Cousin.”


Why call your Blog that?

When Elaine fell and BrokenmirrorinShalott are both allusions to the story of the Lady of Shalott. The most famous and influential version is Tennyson’s poem, the Lady of Shalott. I have an affinity to anything to do with this story- music, art, literature. . . Anything.

The reasoning has to do with how I experience my interactions with the outside world. When Elaine was exposed to the outside world it took away her- well, who she was, and she became an object that only lived for one other person. When that person rejected her, it was the death of her. The difference is that I retreat to my tower instead of poisoning myself and floating my body down the river. *winks* Also, I just like the imagery.

Tennyson’s the Lady of Shallot (you can listen to it put to music and sung by Loreena McKennit here):

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road run by
To many-tower’d Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow veil’d,
Slide the heavy barges trail’d
By slow horses; and unhail’d
The shallop flitteth silken-sail’d
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly;
Down to tower’d Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers, ” ‘Tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott.”

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair’d page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower’d Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror’s magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
“I am half sick of shadows,” said
The Lady of Shalott.

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro’ the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel’d
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter’d free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon’d baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell’d shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn’d like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro’ the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d;
On burnish’d hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow’d
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
“Tirra lirra,” by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look’d down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack’d from side to side;
“The curse is come upon me,” cried
The Lady of Shalott.

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower’d Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river’s dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance —
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right —
The leaves upon her falling light —
Thro’ the noises of the night,
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn’d to tower’d Camelot.
For ere she reach’d upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And around the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the Knights at Camelot;
But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, “She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott.”

Or an alternate interpretation of the story in Music By Emilie Autumn:


*nervous* So, um. I’m crazy, how are you?

That isn’t a self depreciating statement- I live with Mental Health issues, and I don’t have a problem with it. I also am “on Spectrum”- Don’t have a problem with that either. The difficulties for me are in the fact that society is not structured in a way that makes who I am feasible.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I have no problem making little compromises in order to interact with the world. Thing is, I too often don’t let people know that the compromise is being made, so they act as though not compromising more- past the point of extended feasibility- is selfishness or just plain old not trying.

It makes me nervous to do a lot of things that are fairly normal for people to do. I’m terribly anxious on the phone, I become panicked filling out paperwork, and some days it take courage to leave the house. Some days I’m more capable of these things than others- Some days I will make some phone calls, get caught up on paperwork, and even go into town without a problem. But those days aren’t frequent.

I tend not to do well with people face to face. I tend to miss about half of the intended meaning due to having difficulty recognizing non-verbal cues in others, and have more than once had people misunderstand my own meaning because I simply didn’t realize that I wasn’t displaying the Non-verbals they were looking for. Most frequently, I don’t get my tone right, or my volume. Unless I’m on stage, of course, but stage work requires a lot less processing and a lot more putting yourself out there. I’m rather distracted if I have to make eye-contact, though not a complete shut down like some other folks.

I’ve gotten better at it over the years- I read a ridiculous amount of etiquette books, though many were outdated. I learned tricks to make it seem like I was establishing eye contact by looking at people’s ears or at the space right under the eye- which has happily made recognizing weariness a little easier. And thankfully, a lot of people now offer customer services/support online- in text, a medium of communication I can get.

For all my misunderstandings of non-textual communication, the written word is clearer to me. And British Comedy tends to make it across the barrier somehow. 🙂

I have a hard time getting the concept of hatred, and I feel guilty when I feel smug about something- even when others tell me It’s rightfully so. I get distaste or dislike, and I like being on the winning side of an argument, but having those extend to the extremes just makes me uncomfortable.

tl;dr, I’m crazy in a maryad of ways, and it’s a part of who I am. 🙂 Just like being bisexual/panromantic, being female this lifetime, and my past.

And a bit of silliness and Pride- John Barrowman Sining “I Am What I Am” From La Cage Aux Folles :