I Wish I Lived on Planet Unicorn

Hey Guys,

I'm getting a little worried about myself. I've become totally anti-social. Blacktress used to enjoy people, a good late-night story, and hearing the ramblings of a drunken stranger. Now, my eyelids are getting droopy at 9pm. Friends who I haven't seen in months want to hang out, and I, much like an angry toddler, DON'T WANNA!!! I pretty much only want to watch movies and sleep as often as possible. I was prompted to share this because, in yet another step forward, Jewboo has shared his Google calendar with me, allowing for easy stalking. I've been on the inside for a week, but he emailed me this morning, asking to give him access to mine--and I DON'T WANNA!!!

I asked for his calendar cause he's super busy, with his rehearsals and writing meetings, and film screenings (for an unemployed man, he really packs the time in).
If he were to see my google calendar, he'd see a whole lot of nothing, sprinkled in with therapy appointments and art workshops/classes I don't even want to attend. I tend to make myself busy at the last minute, if I feel particularly loser-ish--or, I just want to stay at home on the free nights. What if he looks at my free days, asks me to do something, and I can't make up an excuse? Will he get offended if I say, "Oh, I can't, I'm busy," and he sees a big fat empty space in my calendar? Then I'll have to explain, "I planned to go home and watch Angel reruns on netflix." That'd make me less attractive, yes?

My current state reminds me of a quote from one of the greatest films of our time--Wayne's World. Wayne, while wooing Cassandra in her hip car, says, "I thought I had mono for a year, but it just turns out I was really bored."

I think I can relate. Of course, seeing people should assuage my boredom, but to me it's just a lot of energy to expend pretending to care about the lives of folks I don't see often enough to really matter. Don't get me wrong--I like humans,they are nice, and their interests in the goings on of a blacktress is much appreciated. But, like, do I have to talk to them? Like, regularly?

Blurgh. Clearly, my autism is flaring up something serious.

Why don't I try to turn this whiny post around with an old episode of Planet Unicorn? It makes me laugh no matter what. Deep in my heart, I am an 8-year-old gay boy named Shannon.