I didn't know I was autistic until I was fifty. I just thought I was bad at being a person in a very specific and consistent way. I've had twelve careers. Not because I couldn't hold a job — because every job I mastered became a cage I had to chew through. Then I hit my head. Traumatic brain injury. And the impact broke the mask. What was left underneath was a brain that processes the world as texture and shape, that hears music in color, that built a sensory desensitization chamber at ten years old because the world was too loud and nobody was going to fix it for me. I work in a library now. Quietest place that would hire me while my brain was rebooting. Turns out it fits. This is the blog. If your brain works like this too — welcome aboard. The ship is weird but it floats.