Random tip for language/visually-oriented people who have auditory processing difficulties:
I find often when I have to retain verbal instructions or information, I can get lost pretty easily, and writing it down as I hear it, can be helpful.
That’s not always an option, like if you’re training for a job & don’t have time, or it’s a casual conversation but you need to remember something.
But another trick I have found to be helpful is to try and visualize the words as you hear them.
Like you’re taking notes, but inside your own head.
Imagine picturing a blank screen, or empty note page, or something like that, and as the person gives you the information, think of the words filling the page, or being written down.This can be the full sentence, or the important bits.
Like someone saying “make sure to take out the trash and to walk the dog.’
If you aren’t as good with visualizing words, pictures can help too, especially when it’s instructions or concrete ideas.
Picture a blank piece of paper, and force yourself to see… Maybe every word, or maybe a doodle of a trash can and a dog, or just the words ‘trash’ & ‘dog’
But either way, it forces your brain to slow down a little bit and consciously translate the auditory information into another context, and I’ve found it helps to retain the information.
I have no idea if this has any particular scientific backing. It’s also not a perfect system, especially if the speaker is talking really rapidly & you can’t keep up.
But I have found it helpful, when I remember, and so I thought I’d pass it along.
I am now 100% convinced that Good Omens Crowley is behind the posts-reblogging-as-links default function…
A. Because it’s just the sort of tiny annoyance that balloons into frustrated misanthropy that he would appreciate.
B. Because that joke I made about the Good Omens movie keeps getting reblogged from Neil Gaiman’s blog as a link, which cuts off at “
The Good Omens movie is announced. Neil Gaiman publicly states his approval with every aspect of the movie," and I keep reading the tags on the post and seeing comments like "I SAW THIS AND HOUGHT THIS WAS GOING TO BE AN ACTUAL ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE MOVIE NOOOOO”, and maybe I’m just evil but I’m getting more amusement out of it than I got out of the joke to begin with.
The other day I was on my way to painting class in my university’s Visual Arts building, and I was walking past some displays of art made by the graduating BFA students. I passed one student, who appeared to be putting up some shelves to display art. One shelf was already up, and held a very industrial looking and colourful coffee pot, and a old, worn, coffee mug, with a thin film of liquid at the bottom where the coffee had partially dried onto it. Beside it, there was a single nail set into the wall, a little higher up, upon which hung a green and blue plaid jacket. The jacket was well worn, too, fraying a little at the sleeves. I paused to look at the work, and wondered what the artist was trying to say here. It was making a statement of some kind, I could tell. Small scale domestic interiors? Identity as reflected by morning routine? Interrupted moments? Time? Material objects as markers of…. The artist turned around, and caught my gaze, followed it to his piece. He stared for a second, then laughed. “Oh, shit, no, that’s just my coffee and coat. Didn’t want to put them on the floor. I’m actually taking these shelves down. But, hey, it’s cool. I spent like five minutes once staring at the exit door in a gallery of modern art, trying to figure out the point of the piece.”
I confessed to him I’d done the same, once, and kept walking.
I feel like there’s a lesson to be had here, some profound truth about accidental discoveries of beauty, the sublime in the banal, the artistic process, but then again….
First day I met Misha, I travelled to another city to stand in the November rain for hours, got literally head-to-toe covered in water, glitter glue, blue dye, a piece of kale, sewing thread, and sand while wearing a kilt and a sock monkey hat in public. I travelled for hours, both there and back, he was over an hour late, & the event was poorly planned and utterly chaotic.
It should have been awful, utterly and completely.
I should have hated it.
I should have walked away from it hating Misha.
But it was one of the best days of my entire life.
You might have heard by now that Misha Collins won the People’s Choice Award for Favourite Scifi/Fantasy Actor, tonight.
If you haven’t, well… You heard it from me, first.
He wasn’t supposed to be on the ballot, originally, but there was a ‘write-in nomination’ section, in the first round of voting, and he made it on.
Then, to the surprise and delight of his fans… He won.
Now, People’s Choice Awards… True, the Emmys they aren’t. But I am so incredibly happy he won it. This award specifically.
Because it, more than any other award, is as much about the winner’s impact on their fans, than it is about the winner themselves.
Don’t get me wrong. Misha is a great actor, and I think he’d deserve it for that, too.
But he’s my favourite actor, and one of my favourite people, for reasons that are just… So far beyond that.
He is an incredible person, and he changed my life so much, and I am so glad that he has gotten recognition.
When I first heard of the name ‘Misha Collins’, it was in connection to reading something about GISHWHES, and my first thought was ‘who IS this guy?”
But something about the idea of this wacky scavenger hunt resonated with me, and so I thought, hey, what the heck, I’ll try it?
That was July, 2012.
By the time the hunt had rolled around, at the end of October…
I had joined tumblr to find a team, and marathoned the first seven seasons of Supernatural. That’s how I got into this show, and a good part of why I stuck with it. Misha. While I fell in love with the show, I watched it mostly… No.
Almost entirely to figure out just what was so special about this guy.
I was beginning to get a clue, but not quite.
I was also…
I wasn’t really at a good place in my life, right then, truth be told.
It’s not really something I talk about much.
I’d just dropped out of college after having burnt-out barely weeks into my first semester of Biology, which had been my life plan since I was ten.
Most of my friends from high school seemed like they had plans, things figured out.
I felt disconnected, lonely, kind of adrift, completely unsure about my life direction, and working full time enough to exhaust me, but at a seasonal job with exactly no real prospects.
If I’m going to be honest, I was probably depressed, or autistic burn-out, or whatever the heck term you want to use for ‘I Don’t Like Myself Much Right Now, And I Don’t Know What To Do’.
Then suddenly, I was hot-glue-gunning lentils, loudly yelling poetry at crows, stumbling my way through explaining to the unfairly cute cashier exactly why I was buying 4.9 pounds of Skittles just after Halloween, and I’d just gotten on a ferry to go to a different city, carrying several hundred popsicle sticks.
I’d already met three people by the time I got off the ferry.
And… I don’t know.
There was just… Something about the atmosphere at that event, something I’d never experienced before..
All of the people who were there, because Misha freakin’ Collins told us to, and they were all such incredibly amazing people.
I was barely three months into being in the fandom. I barely knew anything about Misha, really, or what I was doing.
But there we all were, a massive throng of people and I can honestly say I’d never felt more at home in a crowd.
I felt home.
And then Misha showed up. Late, a little flustered, wildly unprepared.
We were all soaked to the skin, and impatient, and by rights I should have hated the bastard by then.
But I didn’t.
There was just….
Something about his honest enthusiasm, how delighted he was to see so many people, how apologetic he was about the poor planning of the event (really Misha, popsicle stick sculptures… IN THE RAIN?), his energy.
He stayed for hours, in the pouring rain, shouting encouragements, mingling, laughing, joking with us.
He talked to every group.
Made sure everyone felt like they got a bit of his time, & felt included.
He laughed at my group for our failed popsicle stick structure, and for me, for buying coloured popsicle sticks, that bled blue dye everywhere in the rain, mixing with the glitter from my glue.
I threw popsicle sticks at him in revenge, and he still gave us a special shout-out at the end for “Team ‘WE TRIED’”.
He ordered pizza for everyone. EVERYONE, even if not everyone got a slice, in all the chaos.
It was dark by then.
I got lost trying to get to a bus, but I met a group of people, they helped me find my way back, I met the same people I’d came with earlier… And we got back home together.Part of me thought, well, that’s over’, but I think a lot of me knew that it wasn’t, not really.
I’ve met him again, a couple times, and every time there’s that same presence, that same joy and lightness & weirdness & kindness & chaos.
And yes. He’s a bit of a twit. He doesn’t plan things well, and he makes mistakes, and he can be daft and annoying and aggravating…
But I walked away from that event and that week of GISHWHES, and I was not the same person, in the strangest and best of ways.
By the end of that week, after meeting Misha, after doing all of that…
I don’t know. I felt different. A little bit more inspired, a little bit more confident. I knew so new people, had tried some new things.
My perspective shifted, my world’s axis tilted.
I got the confidence to re-enroll in University. This time in Art.
I didn’t stick with that, but it was an amazing experience, and I still attribute so much of my current confidence in doing what my passions are, and so many other things in my life…
To that week.
To that man.
To be myself, as unapologetically as possible. To be as creative and kind and weird and incredible as I can be.
I’ve done GISHWHES every year since. I’m in the fandom. Everything I have on tumblr is because I joined it to find a GISHWHES team, and so much else, all spiralling out in a million ways from the first time I read the words ‘Misha Collins’.
I’ve met so many friends, done so many things, and been inspired and changed in a helluva lot of ways, because of this guy. Some of those friends have felt the same, even that he’s saved their lives in very real ways.
Sorry, I’m filling up your timeline with a big feels-y rant and I guess what I’m trying to say is…
When I say I’m glad that Misha won the PCA,the one where people decided, where his fans rallied and showed their love and appreciation and how much they value him…
What I, and I think a lot of us, are trying to say is that we are so damn glad that he exists. Just him. As a person.
That we’ve met him, or that he has impacted my life.
He is so important to me, and so many other people.
So if you had told me three years ago that I would be preparing to travel to another country, with the cousin of two of my friends from high school, in order to go to a community centre wearing a weird hat covered in fake plastic fruit and flowers, and dressed as a french maid, on the word of some dude called ‘Misha’ who was in a show on the CW network…
I’m really not sure what I would have said to that.
The terrifying moment when you start to read a fic and think “Oh, I’ve read this one before”, only for you to realize that, no, you haven’t, you’ve just read so many other fics from this same pairing that all the tropes are starting to repeat and all the fics are starting to blur together.