Coordination, or Writing at the Speed of Thought

My handwriting sucks. I'm often the only person who can decipher it and sometimes even I struggle which defeats the point of writing stuff down. I can type faster than I can write but it's not always convenient unlike just scribbling a note on a piece of paper. So I still fall back on longhand on a regular basis.

I started typing essay assignments in English class when I was at school. I found that it was easier than writing by hand and much less tiring - my hand gets tired very quickly when I write longhand. It's noticeable after just a paragraph or two and the legibility declines rapidly thereafter. I'm sure my teacher also appreciated being able to read what I'd submitted.


I can write reasonably neatly if I take my time and concentrate on forming the letters. But it's no good if I'm trying to put down my thoughts as they come to me: my writing just can't keep up so I either scribble or lose my train of thought. It doesn't help that my fine motor control is not great, which is not uncommon in people with ASD.

Can you read these?

You can see from these two samples that even when I concentrate there's some variability in the size and slant. When I'm scribbling (sample two) there's little consistency - contrast the two quickly's in the second sample. (Hint: it says "Sample two: I'm writing this quickly to keep up with how quickly I think.") And that example isn't close to the worst it can get - it will wander up and down around the ruled line on the page, whole sequences of letters will be indecipherable or even missing and sometimes it more closely resembles shorthand than English.

This lack of coordination seems to affect my typing a little less than my writing but then I'm only a two-finger typist. Even after over 25 years of using a keyboard I still look at the keys while I type and have failed repeatedly to learn to touch-type. I have certain typing errors that I make fairly frequently - I hit the adjacent key (such as r instead of e), I press two keys out of sequence when using fingers on both hands (and end up with teh instead of the) and I keep the Shift key depressed a fraction too long and capitalise two letters (HEllo). Despite not looking at the screen I maintain a mental picture of what I'm typing and I am aware when I've made a typo - I often even correct it without looking at the screen.

This is related to the problem I had learning piano as a child: I had trouble timing separate movements by separate fingers. It also affects me when I try to drum my fingers on a table - tapping them in a repeating sequence. After a couple of repetitions (1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4) I start to make mistakes (1-2-4-3) and then it all goes completely wrong. And if I try it with my left hand I have trouble even getting started despite concentrating intensely. I am strongly right-handed and my right hand is considerably better-coordinated than my left. I always use my left hand for tasks involving less fine control such as holding something in place while I adjust it with my right - I'm almost unable to use tools like screwdrivers or scissors with my left hand (cutting the fingernails of my right hand requires a lot of concentration and holding the scissors in some very strange positions).

Mental Models

Back in the early nineties when I was at Cambridge University I went to a talk given by Douglas Adams (of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy fame). The talk was primarily about technology but in his usual style he went off at a tangent on several occasions. One thing that he talked about has stuck in my mind to this day. He got onto the subject of virtual reality and simulation and strayed into the realms of psychology when he began to describe the parallels between computer simulations and mental models and how we use them to forecast future events.

What he had done was to give a name to a phenomenon I was intimately acquainted with. I remember it so well because I recognised an aspect of myself - I realised that I build mental models of people I interact with, refining the model as I become more familiar with a person. You can think of a model as a series of chains of cause and effect - if I do this then they will do that. I use that model to run through what I plan to say to them and how I plan to say it, and try to predict how they will react. This is all on a conscious level for me - there's little or no instinctive component. That's not to say it's necessarily a slow process but it does introduce some delays into my social interactions while I think about the next move.

I've recently been thinking more about this, prompted by discussion of Theory of Mind - among other things - over on Journeys with Autism. There is a school of thought in psychology that considers people on the autistic spectrum lack a theory of mind (ToM); that is to say that they lack an awareness of others' thoughts and feelings. I believe that my mental models are my ToM as I understand the concept. I also believe that my deficiencies in this area are primarily caused by my poor social skills: I don't have the tools to actively experiment with people and thus refine my model so I just rely on passive observation. This naturally takes much longer to achieve comparable results when compared to somebody who is comfortable and adept in social interactions.

I've watched my wife when she starts talking to somebody that she has never met before. First she will observe them for a short time, somehow picking up non-verbal cues and forming an initial impression of the person in her mind. She will then approach them and start a conversation based on what she has observed. It appears to me that this initial conversation is a social tool that enables her to "get to know" the person quickly by gauging their reactions to her probing - something like a handshaking protocol in network communications. A little while later she'll introduce me to them. I just respond neutrally to what they say - I start out very warily in social interactions because I have no mental model for this new person yet and no way of knowing how they will react to me - and probably get thought of as quiet and boring. I'm primarily observing them at this point, noticing how they respond to my wife and constructing a brand new mental model of them. This imposes quite a cognitive load on me and I can't really cope with inventing something to say at the same time.

I have no idea how most people appear to handle this kind of thing so easily - it just seems to come naturally, instinctively, to them rather than being a learned skill as it is for me. It means that it takes me a long time to get to know somebody reasonably well - well enough to feel comfortable around them. I don't form attachments easily or quickly. However I have found that my hand-crafted mental models can end up being more accurate than my wife's intuition at predicting some people's behaviour. Does this mean that I have a more complete theory of mind than my neurotypical wife? Is it like the difference between bespoke and off-the-peg? Or is it just more evidence that all theories and models have limitations and will depart from reality at some point because they seek to simplify and generalise in order to provide some insight into complex natural phenomena?

Pulling Pints

I've been working part-time as a barman in my local pub since early this year. This may seem a curious activity for somebody who's not comfortable talking to strangers, but the reality is that the large majority of customers are regulars with whom I was already familiar.

It all started when I volunteered to help out because they were short-staffed. I'd helped out behind a bar before when I was at university so I had some idea what to expect. I did my first few hours in exchange for drinks and to my surprise I really enjoyed myself and did a good job. I helped out a couple more times and then decided to make it official: I joined the company on the understanding that my main software development job had priority and started working a couple of regular shifts over the weekend.

Things I enjoy about the job: it's primarily manual work and about the only thinking required is adding up prices in my head (I don't need to because the register handles all that but I want to because it saves time and I like doing it) and remembering the drinks in each order. This means I can largely "switch off" so I find the job mentally relaxing. It's also good physical exercise - very handy when my main job involves sitting down most of the day - and I'm probably fitter now than I have been for some years. I enjoy the routine of the job - each particular shift has its own pattern with the same regulars mostly coming in at the same times. Beer, especially "real ale", is a special interest of mine - I don't drink much these days but I have long had an interest in brewing. I've visited several breweries over the years and remain fascinated by the subject.

I get a particular buzz from it when I'm busy - I get something similar when I'm in flow when programming. I get into a rhythm, the endorphins kick in and I've occasionally found myself just grinning like an idiot and getting strange looks.

I'm not saying that I enjoy everything about it. I dislike serving food - it breaks the flow - and after I've asked a customer if everything's ok with their meal I get stuck for anything else to say and just wander off feeling vaguely uncomfortable. I don't get many complaints but I find it stressful to handle them - it's not that they get confrontational; rather that I'm just not comfortable in that situation.

Funnily enough I find that I can mostly handle the people side of the job. Because I'm there fulfilling a role it enables me to talk to customers within the context of serving them. There's a routine to it: I greet them, ask for their order, pour their drinks and take the money. It generally keeps to the routine and I stay relaxed. I've even got to know people through the job. When I'm in front of the bar as a customer I won't talk to people I don't know - that's just how I am and I've always been that way. I have trouble with small-talk and general conversation as I've mentioned in previous posts. However when I'm behind the bar people come up to me time after time as they order their drinks. They get used to me, I get used to them and as I get more familiar with them I feel less uncomfortable. And having two feet of solid wood between me and them is a great way to avoid having anybody intrude on my personal space - I feel uncomfortably crowded if anybody stands too close to me.

It's the little things as well that I enjoy: I'm genuinely pleased whenever I get a tip because it makes me feel I did something well. I like that the manager always thanks me at the end of my shift (don't tell him I'd happily do the job just to be appreciated - I've never been motivated by financial reward which is just as well given the pay scales for bar staff). I like it when my regular customers - yes, I do think of them as mine when I'm serving them - seem pleased to see me. And I like the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction that comes from doing something well.

Overloading on Emotion

Recently I've been trying to explain to my wife how emotional overtones in what people say can overload me. It was difficult to get across for two reasons.

The first reason is that she still gets the impression that I don't feel emotion because I don't show emotion. She struggles to understand how anybody can be experiencing feelings without any outward sign. This can be one of the key barriers to understanding between somebody on the autistic spectrum and somebody who is neurotypical.

The second reason is that overload is difficult to explain to somebody who has never experienced it. It's not identical for everybody; indeed I don't experience it to the same degree every time. Essentially it is overstimulation of some form, either emotional or sensory. The intensity of the signal coming into my mind causes me to fixate on it like a rabbit caught in headlights.

I pick up on emotional content most when I'm one-on-one with somebody. In a group there's typically too much going on and I start to miss behavioural cues. But face-to-face with one person I find I can often get the "out of band" data along with the signal. I can hear some emotions in the tone of voice and even recognise some body language. It's not as instinctive as it appears to be with NT folk. But now and again, particularly when I know the person well, I get an empathic gestalt of their emotional state.

Imagine if you will that you are sitting on a quiet, deserted shore. The sun is shining: it's warm. There's just enough of a breeze to be comfortable and the small waves lap rhythmically. You are relaxed; you lean back and close your eyes sleepily...

..and then you open your eyes again to find you have been transported in that instant to the middle of the city at rush hour. Traffic all around: engines snarling and horns blaring. People jostling and rushing all around you. Noise, smells, lights, touches coming from all directions: a cacophony registering on every sense at once. And that's how it feels to be hit by that tidal wave of emotion.

Working with Aspergers on About.com Guide to Autism

Lisa Jo Rudy has kindly published a piece I wrote - about how Aspergers Syndrome has affected my working life - on her site, Autism at About.com. If you've not come across it before, this site has a stack of references to information about Autistic Spectrum Disorder and I think it presents a fairly balanced viewpoint. Mine is one of a series of posts written by people on the spectrum about their experiences.

Special Interests and Happiness

While programming is my primary special interest, I have other interests that I follow whenever I get the opportunity. I derive great pleasure from these activities.

Words have always fascinated me. I've enjoyed reading ever since I can remember; in fact I would describe myself as a voracious reader. But it's not just about reading: it actually is the words themselves. I read dictionaries for pleasure, learning about etymology and relating words to their roots. I decided to read Chaucer's Canterbury Tales in Middle English in part to become more familiar with the history of the English language. I own several books about words and phrases; one of my favourites is Melvyn Bragg's Adventures in English which traces the development of the language from Latin and Anglo Saxon to the modern day.

I get excited when I find patterns in words across languages that reflect common heritage such as sassenach in Scots relating to sasunnach in Scottish Gaelic, saesneg in Welsh and saozneg in Breton: all derived from Sais (Saxon). I get similarly excited when I discover the origins of phrases like start from scratch, the bitter end and half-cocked, especially if the origin is strongly visual (as in these three examples).

Naturally when I get excited by finding something new I want to tell people about it. After all, if I found it that amazing then surely everybody else will? No. They don't. It usually falls completely flat. You can picture the tumbleweeds blowing across the scene as my exposition is greeted by deafening silence. What makes it worse is that it's not the dropped-jaw silence of minds stunned by the revelation. It's the silence of boredom and indifference. And then they carry on talking about whatever they were on about before I piped up. So I don't bother so much now. I find it hard to understand that others don't share my passion for certain subjects. I know in an abstract way that they don't, but that knowledge is pale and insubstantial against the intensity of my own excitement and I find that I can get carried away.

I used to flap my hands whenever I got excited. This attracted a lot of negative attention - bordering on bullying - when I was young and over the years I have managed to moderate it so that it now manifests as simply a clenching of my fists and tensing of my arms and hands, with perhaps a little shake. At the time other kids would say that I was "having a benny" and I always took the phrase personally. I never heard it in reference to anyone or anything else until recently when I watched The Full Monty and I can't really describe the shock and the gut-wrenching fear/embarrassment that it triggered. All of a sudden I flashed back to my schooldays and was being ridiculed again. The trouble is that the hand flapping was a natural expression of how I felt. I get a little sad that I don't feel able to express myself fully - to completely be myself - without fear of ridicule.

There are other behaviours that I have suppressed as a result of pressure to conform to the mainstream. I sometimes think that as long as people in general do not accept atypical behaviour then I will continue to give in to that pressure. And because I can't be myself I will feel down more often. Whenever I feel happy or excited it will cast a small shadow across my sunny feelings, a small discordant note in my harmony, a small smudge of dirt on a spotless white canvas. So perhaps it is time to stop conforming. Perhaps I can summon the self-confidence to be myself. To regain the physical expressions of my emotions and not feel ashamed of them. To accept that some people will think me mad and not to care. I guess I can dream...

Thinking in Pictures: Pros and Cons

Whenever I think about something I visualise it. This isn't some conscious process; it's just how my mind works.

With any new concept I come across, if I can form a mental image I can understand it. On the flip side, if I can't see it in my mind's eye I generally can't get my head around it at all. When programming I have become very adept at seeing the structure of software. It's not just a static picture but a dynamic visual model. It's something like not just watching an animation but scripting, drawing and directing it all at the same time. I find this gives me an intuitive grasp of software systems and I tend to have a gut feeling for those aspects that aren't well built.

This visualisation also helps me navigate but only if I have travelled a route before. I find I can run through the journey in my mind. However I can rarely remember details such as street names, junction numbers on the motorway or even in some cases the names of towns I pass through! I have lived at my current address for nearly ten years and I still can't name roads even within half a mile of home. But I don't get lost because I can "see" the routes in my mind. It's like Google Street View crossed with a SatNav but without needing to carry some gadget around. It's a right bugger though when anything changes. If, for instance, some building is knocked down and something else built in its place I can lose my bearings for literally months afterwards. I seem to have trouble remembering how the scene looks now as opposed to how it used to.

I hate it when they move stock around in the supermarket: I'll write my shopping list out in the order that the items appear as I traverse the aisles. And then I get there and something has been moved since the last time so it's not where it should be and I start to overload. I don't handle changes to my routine well at all.

Similarly when I'm trying to remember something I might be able to "see" whatever it is, but can I always put the words to it? Not likely! Not usually a problem when it's just me because I obviously don't need the words but I'm stumped if I'm trying to tell somebody else about it. This leads on to another pet hate of mine: when manufacturers change the packaging of some item that I buy regularly such as toothpaste or pre-packaged food. I'll go to the usual place in the store and I won't see what I'm looking for because it now looks different. So now I don't know whether they're out of stock or I need to look for something different. Either way it means a change which is a Bad Thing. Something like toothpaste or shampoo is particularly bad: if I can't find my usual product I get overwhelmed by the dozens of almost identical choices on offer. I take it as a deliberate act by the manufacturers to make life difficult for me. It's as if they're forcing me to change my routines, and I start to overload again.

I'm getting better at handling it. I no longer tend to have a meltdown in the middle of the store, but my wife is  very used to me ranting about the stupidity of having 50 different kinds of toothpaste, and how such-and-such a store have got it in for me and the only reason they have moved the salad section, sold out of meat & potato pies or discontinued my regular brand of garlic sauce is to upset me personally. I don't rant at anybody, it's more of a monologue. The ranting is my safety valve: it lets me handle the stress of the situation before it overwhelms me.

So, there you have it. Despite the drawbacks I wouldn't change this visualisation aspect of my mind. It allows me to do certain things very well and I can't imagine life without the images in my head.