On my shittier days I can’t help but think about how, logically speaking, my specific Asperger’s likely makes writing not a thing I should be really focusing on.
I feel words a little differently from most people. I see them in specific pictures, colours, and tastes, I also often lose track of what they really mean, making up meanings and uses of my own. Sometimes it means that typos and mistranslations are the funniest things possible for me in the world, because of the pictures they make up, and sometimes it means that I think that “cooked a brow” is a thing, think “door” and write “tree”, and can’t stop thinking Singapore must be a hardly inhabitable country somewhere very cold, and that Eskimo live there (and it doesn’t matter that I know exactly where Singapore is and even had friends from there, my brain will still paint a Siberian scenery every time I say the word, since I was a child.) 
I’ve lost count of how many times I had to edit out logically impossible sentences, and, unfortunately, the important part is not that I manage to find them at some point, but the part where it takes me years and dozens of checks until I actually do realize that something is wrong with the way I described things.
It terrifies me how ironic it is that I actually work editing and proofreading things every day, when I’m like this. But, apparently, I’m pretty good at catching logical inconsistencies within other people’s writing, while I can’t notice them at all when I write them myself. 
I really struggle with putting things I see in words, and then I struggle all over again with re-arranging them into words that make sense to someone other than myself.
But the thing is, for some reason, I really need writing to be the thing for me. And I felt this way ever since I first begun reading. I started writing my first story when I was 8 or 9. I asked my parents for a typewriter, and they gave me Windows95. But when I first typed out the first chapter of my story, the people I was learning how to read good books from, read it without my permission and laughed so hard at the way I was using my words, quoting the ridiculous parts out loud, that I dropped any ideas of writing things. Because they were still quoting that stuff to me for years, and I felt hurt. And also because I understood that even though they were laughing, I still couldn’t see what was wrong with it at all, and it scared me. So I decided that I will be content enough with making up stories only inside of my head and writing only some things down in my diaries, because my handwriting is indecipherable anyway. I do wish I didn’t waste all those years now, but apparently learning to not hurt when people reject and dismiss the things that are important to you takes a lot of time. Or at least to hurt less and learn how to move on and try again.

I tell myself that I still can be optimistic and try to believe that I can do it. That I’ll just have to find a very patient person to ask to be my editor and comb through my my words to make sure I’m saying what I think I’m saying. But I still feel like an idiot stubbornly trying to swim against the current in the wrong river on most days.

I felt like a pretty dirty-minded person… when I found myself secretly taking a picture of a hair product on a shelf in my hair salon. 
But I just couldn’t help it. 
First, I saw the title and thought… “well. okaaay…”
… but then my eyes wondered over all the ‘xxtra hard’, ‘keep it up! all day!’ and ‘try it! you’ll like it!’, and I almost lost my eyebrows, because I didn’t even know what I was looking at anymore…
I probably need to try harder to keep my mind out of the gutter…

today we’ll listen to northmen telling us that ‘life is better alive’ and how it’s a ‘dumb thing to say, but won’t wane away’

and later I’ll maybe rant

p.s.
a voice actor managed to record ‘impotence’ instead of ‘impertinence’ and not a single person managed to notice. How the freak does that even happen.

so, I have a specific relationship with words. 
Which I may have mentioned a few dozen times already.
Words immediately form images for me, and they taste, and I don’t know how words work for all other people but I did notice that not everyone finds typos and translation mistakes as hilarious as I do, because not everyone gets those images in their minds together with the words, and not everyone cares about how words taste.

Anyhow, the point of my rant in this specific moment is that I may have been reading a lot of some non-serious fiction and fanfiction to unclog my brain, and have seen people use the word “wife-beater” a few too many times when they are specifically describing someone attractive, in an enticing state of undress.
And all I can see when I read that word is a dirty piece of white cloth, stained by sweat and food and other substances we better not imagine, stretched over beer-and-fat belly of some unkept person with IQ below 40. 
I mean, honestly. Even I don’t go into the whole cultural background of naming a piece of clothing after domestic abuse. 
As a writer to fellow writers, how can you use it to describe something you want to portray as hot and not flinch?
I can even understand how it can be used in correlation with an antagonist, to give a negative impression. But even that is not necessary, since it has so many other names – tank top, a-shirt, sleeveless shirt, undershirt…

I’m pretty sure that there are tiny naughty elves or pixies living in my computer, who change letters in things I write from ‘send men with carts’ to ‘send men with cats’ and such, after I’ve already checked it at least 5 times.

… 
and then I just can’t get over those ‘men with cats’ that were being sent somewhere