Yesterday is the most covered song in the world, completed in just a few takes. But many fans forget that after the final take, an alternative attempt was tried that, although had some stops and starts, proves more beautiful than the popular version.
a.k.a. Paul McCartney’s goofy live rehearsal of Yesterday for one of his early 90′s tours, featuring a certain bunny. Very funny!
Lola Sonner from Charlie and Lola is super autistic.
I, and my Best Friendo™ (also autistic) could both strongly relate to her when we were younger, I think she’s one of the best written autistic characters without being called autistic.
Here are some reasons why she’s totally autistic:
- On the show, in the books, and anywhere she’s described, she’s often described as “peculiar” “eccentric” “quirky” to name a few. She thinks, acts, and just is very different from those around her.
- She has a special interest in the book “Beatles, bugs, and butterflies” and will read it over and over and check it out from the library routinely, and is so distressed when someone else checks out “her book” that she has a meltdown. She does find a new book to love, and the cycle starts over. Another special interest is her alligator costume, upon receiving it she just completely became an alligator and just wanted to live in that costume forever. Also, drawing and coloring is another special interest and apart of her routine.
- She’s a very picky eater. To get her to eat anything, Charlie must make a game out of it.
- She wants- needs to do everything on her own. She’s hyperfocused on doing things her way, and her way only, and will put up a fight to except help. She becomes very, very frustrated when she cannot do something on her own.
- She has a very active, vivid imagination, and experiences maladaptive daydreaming.
- She has a black and white view on things, and gets her heart set on things going exactly how she wants them to, and when they don’t, or something turns out different than what she thought or wanted, it upsets her greatly. She also is deeply unsettled when people do things she wouldn’t do herself. She also tends to think of what she likes and assume that other people must like it too, for instance- changing Charlie’s birthday theme to something she’d like because she doesn’t like his theme, and she completely thinks that he’d like it and that she’s helping.
- She’s just super hyperfocused on things. She either isn’t focused or hyperfocused. One thing I remember is an episode about an egg and spoon race and she was incredibly worried she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on not dropping the egg, and in the end she winds up being *so* focused the world just stops and she just forgets about the race entirely and just walks off with the egg, and in the end she was just very happy she didn’t drop it.
- She has a strict routine and set way of doing things, and becomes very upset and anxious when it is disturbed.
- She has a large vocabulary for her age but phrases things and pronounces things very awkwardly, and often will make up her own words entirely. She also is overwhelmed by lots of words because it’s a lot of visual processing to take in, and would much rather read stories her way, interpreting it how she wants to.
- Terrified of new things or leaving her routine and comfort zone, and will worry about every possible thing that could go wrong. She also gets used to things and does not want them to change, for instance- cutting her hair, she is very distressed with this because she’s used to her hair being as it is, or when her trusty, favorite shiny red shoes are too small for her she does not want to get another pair because she is used to these and they are comfortable. She’s incredibly scared of the unknown and not having an answer for things, if she doesn’t know the exact outcome of something she will just panic about it. Also- how could I forget- one of the most autistic episodes, Autumn arrives and Lola is beyond distressed at how utterly different everything is. She has a new teacher and she and Lotta are sitting in new places, the school just smells different, and the leaves fell off her favorite tree (she has a favorite tree. I cry. I love my smol autistic so much!!) She just cannot cope with change and anything outside of what she’s familiar with. The whole episode about her first sleepover with Lotta and she just wants to go home because it’s all out of routine and overloading was the most relatable thing, like, ever. Literally half of the episodes are about Lola being anxious about change and I can deeply, spiritually relate.
- Takes things very literally and she’s very superstitious. She does not understand idioms or expressions at all, she has a very literal brain; And she will believe anything you tell her.
- Auditory processing issues! There’s a whole episode about how she has trouble listening to people and processing what they say, and she also tends to get so hyperfocused on things to the expense of anything else.
- No filter, at all. She cannot keep secrets, for one, and it is an all consuming attempt to keep herself from blurting them. She also cannot lie, she must be honest. She can only say what she thinks and feels, she cannot keep things to herself.
- Executive dysfunction. She moves very slowly and very detailed with her daily routine and tasks, and therefor has trouble being on time for things. And she has lots of trouble just organizing and planning things out, and moved at a much slower pace and on a different wavelength than those around her. She also has intense trouble following directions, as well as managing/saving things.
- She has one very close best friend and that is Lotta, she has trouble making friends because she’s just very different from those around her, she thinks, behaves, and just is on a different wavelength than her peers. In one episode a new girl joins school and Lotta befriends her, and Lola’s whole world just crumbles, she feels like she’s being replaced because in her mind- she only really has Lotta, and it makes no sense at all why Lotta could or would want another friend than her. It’s also a lot of routine change for her, which makes her very anxious. Her only other close friend is her imaginary friend Soren Lorenson. She finds imaginary people, animals, and objects much easier to be friends with than people, because she can predict them and also create them, which she cannot do with humans.
- Trouble sleeping.
- Hyperempathetic. Two examples off my head of this: When Lotta gives her a hat as a present but it’s very uncomfortable and sensory hell for her, but she doesn’t want to hurt Lotta’s feelings so she tries to get the hat ruined so that she doesn’t have to lie about it. She eventually has to tell Lotta she doesn’t like it, because lots of chaos happens all in the name of Lola’s giant heart. Also, when Charlie and Marv have an argument and take a break in their friendship for an episode, Lola not only is overwhelmed by the lack of routine and sameness she knows of their friendship, but worries greatly if they’ll ever be friends again, she’s so worried about them as if it’s her own friendship. There’s so many examples of this, she just feels and hurts for people like it’s her own feelings and hurt, she just has this heart too big for her body.
- Has a very hard time giving things away, and just can’t give people presents because she gets attached to the thing.
- She’s very observant and spends a lot of time just observing things, it’s something she loves to do.
- She’s very, very impatient. She hates having to sit and wait, especially for a long time, she just wants to do something and get it done, especially if she’s anxious or excited about it. She has a lot of anxiety surrounding going and doing things anyways, so having to wait or be there longer than she originally planned causes a lot of anxiety for her.
- If she sees someone doing something she must do it too and it must be her life’s calling. Also, in one episode when Charlie and Marv have a foreign language project she wants to learn a language, but she cannot grasp it, so she decides to make her own. This is a random thing to point out, but I vividly remember making my own land up as a child with its own culture and language, and this was just very relatable to me. / Also! She becomes very hyperfocused on something for a short amount of time and she must get the things but when she gets the things it’s short lived interest and she moves on to the next intense interest to hyperfocus on. She often loses the interest because she must be The Very Best™ and when she is not she does not want to try anymore. She gives up very easy. It’s unfortunate but also really darn relatable.
- Feels and reacts to things very extremely. When things are bad they are very, very bad and the world is over, if things are good they are the very best ever and life is amazing. Everything is an extreme.
- She has an extremely hard time staying clean and being gentle with things, especially when she has to be.
- She has an extreme phobia of getting lost, and spends lots of time preoccupied with worry that she will get lost. This worry is so extreme Charlie must give her methods for if she ever did get lost how she could handle it.
- She stims! She doesn’t ever really sit still, she’s always bouncing her legs, rocking, and she hums and coos and verbal stims a lot. She loves to bounce on her bouncy ball and just move, she’s a very stimmy mini-autistic. ALSO! She scripts things a lot, and often pretends to be things and people to the point it feels very real.
- When I was younger I really wanted glasses for some reason (I very much need them now, but I didn’t when I was younger) and there’s a whole episode about Lola wanting them, I don’t know if this is an autistic thing, but somehow stuff that happened to me as a kid always wound up as a Charlie and Lola episode. I think it could be an autistic thing, being hyperfocused or interested in odd things.
- Does not realize that you can’t just yell “help” and watch people come running when you don’t actually need it just because you think it’s funny.
- Does not understand trends. At all. What the heck is the point of them? Beats me.
- I’m sure I’m forgetting something, because Lola is just really hecking autistic, but I tried to write down everything I remembered. I cry!! She’s so autistic!!! And everything about her is just so me and so relatable!! Ahh!!!
Did anyone else love this show and relate to Lola as a kid? I swear, she’s one of the best written and most relatable autistic characters who haven’t necessarily been confirmed as autistic, tying with Tina Belcher. Tina Belcher is the Lola of my teen years.
As always, sorry this is long, I have no capability to write a short thing. I just can’t, I’ve tried my dudes.
@autisticheadcanons It would be awesome if you reblogged, I know Lola’s been submitted before (I happy stimmed upon seeing that submission) but I added a few things of my own :-)
Holly (previously Susan) Stocking, now a retired
professor of journalism at Indiana University, was a reporting intern at the
Minneapolis Tribune in the summer of 1965 when the Beatles came to visit. Their one and only concert in Minnesota was on August 21, 1965 – 50 years ago.
Stocking dressed up as a waitress at the hotel where the band was staying, in
hopes of getting access to the band. Here is the story of her encounter – and
how John Lennon took pity on a fledgling reporter, enabling her to get a
page-one story, transcribed word-for-word below.
Monday, August 23, 1965
By Susan Stocking, Minneapolis Tribune Staff Writer
I didn’t faint, I didn’t scream. I didn’t even squeal.
I ate potato chips.
In a room with Beatles Ringo Starr, George Harrison and John Lennon – and all I did was munch potato chips!
And nervously slop coffee in their saucers.
“Half up,” said Lennon, sprawling on the blue spread of a bed in Room 528 of the Leamington Motor Inn. “I drink it white.”
It must have been 9 p.m. Saturday while the Beatles were still bugging the crowd at Metropolitan Stadium when I slipped into a waitress uniform and began the long wait in the tiny kitchen of the motor in.
After 10 p.m., the order from the fifth floor Beatles headquarters finally came in: one medium rare steak sandwich, two trays of assorted sandwiches, seven glasses of ice water, seven coffee cups, a pot of hot water and one of coffee, a bowl of teabags, three small pitchers of milk, a dish of sweet pickles, and chips.
Tray in hand, I tottered behind a waiter with his card and ascended by freight elevator to the security-tight hideaway.
And there they were, living, breathing, moppy: Lennon sitting cross-legged on the bed near the window and wearing a blaring yellow sweatshirt, Harrison in a black knit T-shirt wandering aimlessly up and down in front of the light mahogany bureau – a pocket radio hugging his ear, and Starr in his red and white polo shirt ushering in the food.
But where was Paul McCartney? “He’s ringing home,” said Lennon, and he lit out for the coffee pot.
“May I pour?” I blurted, biting hard on a potato chip that I’d picked up without thinking.
For an hour and a half I sat and poured and munched and listened to the visitors from Liverpool banter across the small, blue-walled cubicle.
On 4th Av. S., five stories below, “We want the Beatles!” chants drifted throught he draped windows. No one seemed to notice.
“A reporter in a waitress uniform, eh?” Harrison smirked. “How original.”
A Beatle with a sense of humor, eh? How refreshing.
“Hey, whose food is this anyway?” asked Starr, chomping into the $3.75 tenderloin steak sandwich on the cart. “We didn’t order any food, did we George?” He plopped onto the double bed next to the door, shrugged as if to say “who cares?” and licked his fingers.
(Must have been ordered by one of the 30 members of the Beatles’ official party on the floor, I thought.)
On the television set, sound off, a horse was dragging a cowboy through the dust.
“Aw c’mon,” grumbled Lennon, “they did the same thing last show back!”
Harrison, his radio roaring a Cannibal and His Headhunters tune, growled something about “those bloody DJs.”
“Thot’s a lie, whot they tell the kids about us playing longer if they’re quiet,” he said. “We play the same 35- to 50- minute show no matter whot.”
“Yea,” added Lennon. “And when the audience screams so loud they can’t hear us, we just wave more.”
I asked Starr if his shirt was the same he’d worn at the concert.
“Whot d’ya mean?” he replied. “Same shirt I’ve worn all week!”
Then I asked where they’d be headed next morning.
“On to Portland or some-whar,” one of them said. “I don’t know.”
“Fact is, we never know whar we’re at,” Lennon added, pouring a bag of sugar into his coffee. “Take on the way over here in that truck, for instance … I forgot where I was, but I didn’t dare ask anybody for fear of hurtin’ their feelin’s!”
(The Beatles made their escape from Metropolitan Stadium in a laundry panel truck, sneaking into the motor inn by way of the basement.)
“But don’t you ever go out on the town to see the places you’re touring?” I wondered.
“Who’d want to see a bunch of statues?” Starr mumbled.
“But Minneapolis has a bunch of lakes,” I countered.
“See one lake, you’ve seen ‘em all.”
Starr and Harrison sauntered out of the room without saying goodby.
“They’re ringin’ home – like Paul,” Lennon explained. “I’d ring home, too, but my wife’s in Libya visiting her brother … You can’t ring Libya.”
He sipped a glass of honey (”The manager says my throat’s raspy”), struck a match to his Marlboro cigarette and watched a TV detective get stabbed in the stomach.
He told me how the Beatles “beat each other down” if one gets cocky; how even when they’re not “in the mood,” they quip in public to avoid being labeled “swell-headed,” and how their managers normally set up five or six “escape gimmicks” to avoid the mobs when they’re on tour.
He told me other things, too: about the “greenness” of England, the greatness of rock ‘n’ roll, and the goodness of knowing what you’re talking about before you criticize. (He was referring to the Beatles’ critics.)
“You know,” he mused, “those kids out there on the street … they always find out where we are … They’re clever, some of ‘em.”
A “We love you Beatles” song struck up off-key and someone shouted, “We know you’re up there Beatles … yea, yea, yea.”
I asked if the noise would keep him up that night.
“I can sleep through anythin’,” he said. “Thing I’ll beat it to bed after this cigarette.”
I got up to leave. He walked me to the door.
“Cheerio, now,” he grinned. “And let me shake your hand like an Englishmun.” He gave my much-calmed hand a solid shake.
It was going on midnight. Outside, a police speaker boomed, “OK, now let’s go, everybody home.”
At 10:55 a.m. Sunday the Beatles would whisk out the front door – past another crying, yelling mob of fans – and head for the airport in a big black limousine.