Hi, I'm Faye. (Here's my standard intro text):
I was a systems programmer in assembler and an IT manager of HQ and 90 field offices. At another place, I programmed a gamma-ray spectrometer and designed gizmos for a reactor. One of them monitors damage to stainless steel crystals when bombarded continually by neutrons. I won three awards for all that stuff. I also wrote (for money) freelance articles for a bunch of computer and other magazines under my real last name.
I was also the valedictorian of the computer science department at a very large university ranked third nationally in CS.
I'm (supposedly) an autistic-savant — a rare female one, too. At least, that's what the psychometrician told me at the mental hospital when I was committed there in 2001 after I tried something sexual that it turns out I love.
"Autistic" means I can't correctly perceive emotions in other people, which means I'm vulnerable to being lied to and manipulated, particularly at work. Bad people blame me for their own mistakes and I don't even know it until it is too late.
"Savant" only means "Real Smart" combined with "genetic mutant."
My main interest is the 4-dimensional interval metric equation of SR and what it implies about spacetime. I'm writing an article I hope to publish in Astrophysics Journal. Then everyone will know my real last name.
Note that none of the above actually implies that I'm a "grownup."
I'm almost certain that I'm neurologically unable to hate. Or feel jealousy or revenge or rage. You may think this is a blessing, but it's not, really. You see, I can't feel love either. That IS a blessing, at least to me when I see how much it hurts other people. Don't get me wrong, I love my kitty-cat. At least, before he died. Then I felt unendurable grief. I can feel that, too.
I also love humanity, and all life, really. In fact, I think I have "cancer of the empathy". And I love sex so much that it's what got me committed to a mental hospital, but I only like it when it's impersonal with a stranger (preferably when I'm gagged and blindfolded). I can't love another person in a romantic way, and I can't even imagine what that would be like. That has made some people very sad.
What I want to know is, why does everyone seem to hate me? For that matter, why are people so evil when they could just as easily be good and if everybody was good everyone would be happier?
Well, besides the obvious game-theoretic answer, my best-guess analysis is: apparently there's something about me--childishness, naivete, trust, vulnerability, enthusiasm, sexiness, or something else that people have crushed in themselves because it allowed them to be hurt and back-stabbed by people they loved and trusted.
I call this "the death of love." And by love, I mean empathy and compassion. I also mean undying nothing-held-back romantic love too, but again, it is impossible for me to feel that.
When they see the way I am, it reminds them of what they were and how beautiful it was and how much the sadness hurt when they abandoned it. And since sadness and anger are really both the same emotion expressed differently, they get angry and want to kill love in other people. If they don't infect others with sadness, then they have to feel it themselves-- the horrible sadness of being forced to abandon the only thing that's really important: what they once felt but think that can never feel again.
That's how (metaphorically) Satan gets people to do his bidding. A trusting kid is horriblized by one or more monsters they trusted. That makes them real, real sad, and one part of this is that they see no hope--"This is how the world is". You can call this "growing up", but it's not, really. It's just Satan killing the joyous child in you. Still, everyone calls it "growing up" and they say I've refused to do it.
Well, I HAVE refused to become cold and uncaring and hurtful and evil, which is the defining difference between real people and grownups. Read J.M. Barrie's The Little White Bird. It's a story for adults, but when that insightful book didn't sell, he changed it to be for kids, added a flying boy and pirates, and renamed it Peter Pan. Wendy was much more prominent before the rewrite. You can still see a remnant of the original in Peter Pan, when Tink comes home drunk from an orgy. Yes, that's really there. Disney left it out and almost no one has actually read Peter Pan.
I sure as hell did.
ANYWAY, after abandoning love, the second phase of the sickness sets in. To adapt to their environment, they become a monster themselves. They see that it gives them power in most situations, so it snowballs. It's a negative-feedback dynamic which the infected see as a positive-feedback one. That's the inversion of perception that the sickness makes you have. Evil becomes "good", and "good" becomes "being a sucker".
Grownups are cold. Uncaring. Hurtful. Sadistic (but not sexually. They're sadistic In the BAD way).
In short, hurt people become evil.
I think this happens mostly in adolescents and mostly in males. But it can happen to anybody. It even happens in little kids, if they're hurt enough. Then they become bullies at school, or turn into teenage murderers in the nightmare of a ghetto.
When sick people deliberately make other people sad, that's how the infection is spread. I call it "The Sickness." When I call it "Satan", I picture a devil with horns crushing the skulls of little kids with it's chicken-feet talons and using them as stepping stones to march down the river of time, leaving a wake of crushed skulls, horror, destruction, and grief.
And divorces and abused children and burned-out cities and death.
And homeless people... like me.
The Sickness seems to be uncurable, which is extra reason not to become infected. I seem to be immune to it, like Feynman.
But I finally couldn't stand it anymore and abandoned so-called "humanity." I have lived in the woods for 3 years. Behind a parking garage, and protected by a barbed-wire fence, I half-buried a tent in what looks (appropriately) like a bomb crater, and I covered it with layers of plastic and blankets. Then I hacked into the power grid. You can drop 250V to 125 without a transformer if you're a Jedi of Understanding Stuff.
I also hacked into the internet via someone's wireless router, but I since got legit wireless broadband. I have a hot plate where I make cheese fondue with white wine, Kirsch, $12-a-pound imported cheese, and real French bread from the French bakery in Annandale. Money goes a long way when food and net access is all you ever have to buy.
I also have my dorm fridge, a space heater I never need, A/C I need even in winter because this place is so damn-well insulated, a shortwave and other strange radios, and an 4.7 GHz O/C'd computer with thermoelectric cooling I designed myself.
Decorated year-round with festive colored Christmas lights, it's like an Apollo capsule packed with technology in here, buried in dirt and sticks and leaves and topped off with a delicious chocolate coating of bird and squirrel crap.
I can hear them scurrying around on top of it, and that's one of the things that makes living in my homeless "cave" so wonderful.
Yeah, yeah, you don't believe it. I don't care.
Here's a pic of my cave.
And here's me in it (NSFW).
HAH! See? The rumors are true; there actually are reeeally crazy people on the internet!
Who would ever have imagined?
More info, including two phone vids of me giving a guided tour of my cave, inside and out are here,. And (sigh...) yes guys, a few are naked pix. So don't visit at work.
Faye Kane, smartmouth smartass
PS: Addendum I should force-fitted into the above
You think people hate you for beng smart? HAH! You've never experienced hate! Try being cute and sexy too. You can't imagine how horrible and evil normal people are to you. If I were rich too, the jealousy would be even worse and I'd probably be assassinated for no reason.
God only knows what Marissa Meyer has to go through. Though I imagine that, being the boss, she doesn't have to see a lot of it.
But hey, soon I won't be cute or sexy anymore. Then people can hate me for being old and ugly. They do that, too.
I had to abandon my cozy cave due to road expansion. I am now a sex slave for a group house (I have 3 owners: my biggest blog fan, another guy, and his wife). Details and (NSFW) pix on my blog.
PPPS: Here's why being Real Smart sucks.