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EK's STAR LOG
CATEGORY ARCHIVES:

The Autism & Me Squidoo Article

An Autistic Person Speaks Out On
What It Is REALLY Like To Live With Autism

How Disgusted She Is With Asperger's People Pretending To Have Autism

And Why Authors Who Write An "Autistic" Character With Asperger's Symptoms Are Doing More Harm Then Good

The 10th Anniversary Return EelKat's Biggest "Big Lens"

Autism & Me
A Plea To NaNoWriMo Overachievers:
If You're Gonna Write Autistic Characters,
Then Stop Research Asperger's And
Start Researching Autism For A Change!

As has been requested (endlessly) EK's Star Log is returning to the internet. You can still read the original archive here... https://eelkat.wordpress.com 

The reason you couldn't find it is because I set it to private un-index mode, meaning it no longer shows up in Google search results and can only be accessed by a direct link.

Meaning, if you didn't have the url for it, no amount of searching for it would tell you how to find it. Anyone who had the url could still access it though.

I had set it to private September 23, 2013, intending to move each page here to EelKat.com... however, November 14, 2013, after only moving about 30 pages, I was beaten up and left paralyzed for 5 months, then spent 18 months relearning to walk. I am still crippled and have limited mobility.

Below is one of the blog posts that originally appeared on EK's Star Log. The original articles are still online but no longer indexed in Google. Links to the original article, are included with this post, as is the original posting date. Clicking the links will take you to the original site, where you can see the old Space Dock 13 website still online. Space Dock 13 as it looked when hosted on WordPress from 2003 to 2013.


By EelKat Wendy C Allen

Autism & Me: The Squidoo Lens

A Plea To NaNoWriMo Overachievers: 
If You're Gonna Write Autistic Characters,
Then Stop Research Asperger's And 
Start Researching Autism For A Change!

"Can anyone tell me how to write characters with autism while avoiding stereotypes? Thank you."

Here is my response to a question from the NaNoWriMo forums on avoiding the stereo types when writing about characters with Autism:

"Can anyone tell me how to write characters with autism while avoiding stereotypes? Thank you."

My response, resulted in a 500+ page non-fiction book on living with autism. 

The response, went off into a rant, not because of the person asking the question, but instead, because of the 300+ Asperger's patients who responded to the question to tell her how to write ASPEGER'S characters, all while claiming their Asperger's was the SAME THING as Autism.

More then 2,000 forum posts were added to the thread, by these 300+ people, boldly spreading huge amounts of extremely inaccurate misinformation about what Autism is and is not, and helping to spread the urban myth that Aspergers is a type of Autism.

Sadly after taking 3 days to read every post on the thread, I finally reached the end to find that not even ONE of the more then 2,000 posts had given her ANY information about Autism.

My response is too long for one page, all pages are being linked to here:

Ads by Google

Autism and the Stigmas - Why Can’t You Accept Me As Me?

As an Autistic, I can tell you outright that I really hate it when people start sticking pills at me and telling me if I would take them I’d be normal.

You know what? I have no problem with who I am, I do not see any reason why I should change. I am different, yes. I know that, and have never denied it. I just want people to stop telling my to *be normal* or how nice it would be if I would *seek medical help*.

Me sewing pink dresses and paining pictures and writing novels, is not me needing to seek medical help.

You building a bomb and blowing up my house and setting fire to my clothes and killing my pets... that's YOU being a psychopath and needing medical help.

Me putting up 144 no trespassing signs across the end of my driveway, to keep out violent, bomb building home invaders, is not me needing medical help.

You trespassing on my private property, breaking into my house at 1AM, and putting a bomb in my kitchen, you shooting at me when I try to get my mail, you bring your entire church congregation to my yard and standing my my driveway calling me a demon possessed witch... that's YOU needing medical help.

Get your facts straight.

I'm not bothering anybody. You are.

I never leave me land. You are invading my privacy.

I'm sitting here painting and sewing and trying to ignore you yelling at me. You are the one harassing me.

I'm not the one coming to your house bothering you. YOU are the one coming to my house bothering me.

Think about it.

If I'm crazy... what are YOU?

I’d just like the whole pack of them to leave me alone . . . I don’t need a bunch of Hitlers in my life telling me how to act, how to talk (which I don’t and that pisses most people off), or anything else. I am not you, why do you expect me to act just like you do?

I am not a clone.

I am me.

I am normal.

Normal is what you were born as.

Every one was born to be normal in their own way. Just because what is normal for me, is not normal for you, doesn’t make it wrong or bad, or anything else. It just means that for me, normal is different than it is for you.

Besides, when you start being rude and staring at me and trying to get me to stare at you, and rudely talking to me, when I didn’t speak to your first, I look at you and think: “What the hell is wrong with this freak? Didn’t any one ever teach them any manners? ”

If you had decent manners you would know it was rude to stare and rude to speak when not spoken to, and yet, here you are trying to make eye contact with me and talking your fool head off.

You see, in my mind, it is you being weird and freaky and not acting normal, but do I try to poke pills at you or call you retarded?

No. I don’t do those things because I have the moral decency not to be rude.

I esp don’t like people who walk up to you and say: “Why don’t you answer me? What are you retarded?” I really, really, REALLY hate that. To be retarded you require an IQ of 70 or less. The average IQ is 90 – 100. Less than 3% of the population has an IQ above 130. Want to know what my IQ is? I’ll tell you. It’s 138. I don't like taking about it and I wouldn't bring it up, if YOU were not yelling at me and saying I'm retarded. Do you even know what retarded means? Look it up. Retarded means having an IQ of 70 or less. I’m about as far as you can get from being retarded, so don’t call me retarded just because I don’t talk or make eye contact.

I’ve been asked why I don’t join any groups for people like me. I’m afraid I can’t really comment on those groups because I’m not familiar with any of the autism groups. I’m not a busy body who needs constant gossip (what most people call socialization, I call rude gossiping). The way I see it, that’s all those so-called groups are. A place to gossip and waste time. My time is better spent elsewhere.

Thing is, I've never been included.

I am unwanted.

I know this, because people tell me every day, that they do not want to be near me, do not want to spend time with me, and would never dream of including someone like me in any activity where they would have to be seen in public with me.

My family tells me this. My mother. Even my so-called best friend, the high priest, who says he can not be seen in public with me because "What would the bishop think" or "What would Rick think?"

I wasn't allowed to go to school.

I wasn't allow to go to the doctor. Not even through any of the pregnancies and miscarriage. 7 total. The first one happened when I was 14. I'm not supposed to talk about them. I'm supposed to pretend they never happened. I would loved to have loved my babies. Had they lived, at least I would have had someone human to talk to. But I'm not even allowed to acknowledge them at alll. "What would the bishop think?" The high priest does not care that his own children are dead. He is glad of it. Now the bishop will never know what he did. That's all he cares about - what the bishop will think. He doesn't care about me, my pain, my sadness, my loneliness.... I'm not even allowed to morn my dead babies. I'm supposed to pretend they never happened. How can he be so mean, so evil, so cruel, so cold, so heartless? There is no love in him. He is a very selfish man, who only cares how he looks to the bishop. Nothing else matters to him.

My mother says he loves me. She says he wouldn't spend so much money on our family to have me, if he didn't. 

I don't believe her.

I don't think he knows how to love. He cares only about himself and how he looks to the church. He may be able to hide 7 dead babies from the bishop... but he can not hide them from god. God knows what he did. God sees all. God knows all. He can lie and say there was no baby... but god knows the truth.

He does not love me.

If he loved me, he would let me mourn my dead babies.

I am unloved.

I know this, because the only two people to tell me they loved me are both dead. Grammy Helen died when I was 8. Grammy Eva died when I was 17. No one else ever tells me they love me. They are too busy telling me I'm twisted, corrupted, evil, unholy, unrighteous, or the child of Satan.

Once in a while, one of them will have the snarky comment "Will, at least Jesus loves you. Don't know why he would, but, he even loves shit like you."

My mother only ever allowed me to have one friend. The high priest who raped me every day, and paid my parents bills in exchange. He's the only friend she would let me have. He's 30 years older then me. I've been forced to obey his every whim since I was 12.  He says I can't have any friends other then him either, because if I had other friends, they'd find out about him, and no one can know. He doesn't allow me to get a job or drive a car. I'm almost 40 years old and he won't let me get a driver's license. Sex is all he cares about. Sex and money. He uses sex as a weapon - forces it on me when I don't want it; refuses it when I do. He is extreme sadistic and very sexually, verbally, and emotionally abusive. 

Of course, as the years went by, I have learned that I don’t like being around people.

No one has anything good to say to me.

No one has anything good to say about me.

The only time I'm ever included in any group activities, it's so they can bully me, tease me, and push me.

I've never had a friend.

I used to want a friend.

I've given up hoping that there will every be a kind or loving person in my life who wants to be my friend. My cats are the only friends I have. My cats are the only ones I have to talk to. My cats are the only ones I have who will spend time with me. My cats are the only reason I go one each day. My cats are the only reason I have to want to live. I'd have killed myself years ago if I didn't have my cats to love me.

Why is the high priest so mean to me? He talks in terms of punishment. Punishment, for no going to church, when it is he who will not let me go to church. He yells at me constantly because I do not have a temple recommend and yet I do not have a temple recommend because he told the bishop I was not allowed to have one. If I try to take the sacraments he grabs my arm and drags me from the church and says I'm not allowed to take them, but when we get home he makes me sleep outside under the tarp because I didn't take them.

I don't know which one of him to obey or believe, he changes who he is so many times a day. He has 7 different people that he is, most of them I can tolerate, but not the high priest. The high priest so evil, he makes grandpa and the uncles look like saints. I hate the high priest.  He is evil beyond evil. So full of hate. So cruel.

February 10, 2007 was the coldest day in Maine history. It was -47F below zero, -112F with wind chill factor. I begged him and begged him to please let me sleep inside. It is so cold I can barely feel my hands. My lungs hurt. It hurts to breath. He won't me in. He says "What would the bishop think, if he let a sinner like me sleep in the house at night." I'm losing the use of my left hand. It hakes all the time and can not feel my fingers any more. Why is he doing this to me? My cats are under the tarp with me. He only lets his two cats Jerry and Tom sleep inside at night. He makes my cats stay outside too. They keep me warm at night. It is so cold. The wind goes through the tarp like it's not even there.

No one loves me. I used to wish and pray every day for some one to love me.

But god never heard my prayers. I'm not sure I believe he's there any more.

It's hard to believe in someone who never does anything to let you know he is there.

If he is there, he certainly doesn't care about me or love me enough to let me have a friend. I don't know why he hates me so much. I wish at least god would love me. But he doesn't. No one does. My cats are the only ones who do. They are the only ones who care. If I didn't have my cats, I wouldn't bother being alive tomorrow. I've no reason to want to live. No one loves me. I have no one to love.

There is no greater happiness, then to love and be loved in return. I wish someone loved me.

I don’t like to get involved in groups and such, because that means being around people and being out in public, both of which means there will be folks pestering me to talk and that’ll lead to teasing, and I really don’t want to deal with rude, cruel mouthed, and cuts and bruises from them beating me up, and the pain of the high priest not letting me go to a doctor because the doctors might find out about him, mean people anymore so I rarely leave the house anymore. 

I used to try to be around people. I used to want to be around people. But there is just so many times you can call a person retarded, or schizoid, or crazy, before I finally, say: Why did I want to be around people when all people do is hurt me?

For 30 years I dreamed and hoped and wished and prayed... I wanted to be around people. I wanted to be loved. I wanted a friend. But I know now that god hate me and will never allow me to have those things. The high priest is right: I am too ugly to be loved, too unworthy, no one will ever love me. No one will ever want me. I have my cats and when they are gone, I will kill myself and then the high priest will not have to worry about hiding me from his bishop any more, and he can be happy and can be free, and maybe in the next life, some one there will love me, because no one here does.

People preach kindness and understanding and acceptance, but you’d be surprised how very few actually practice what they preach when they are forced to come face to face with someone like me.

I wish someone would love me.

I wish some one would be my friend.

I wish I had someone to talk too.

I wish someone would spend time with me.

The section above was originally written in 2007.

A 2017 10th Anniversary update is coming soon and will appear in this section below.


February 2007
This was the morning after the first of 3 blizzards that week
(photo taken by my brother who was worried and came to check on me)


October 2007
(again, my brother stopped by to check on me and took this photo while he was there)


April 10, 2010
Inside The Tent - My Bed, for 9 Years:
(the bed is made out of hay and discarded cloths)
The tarp is 8' by 6'
Inside living space is 6' by 4' and almost 2' tall


2017 Update:

My cats are gone.

Evil people took them.

Evil people killed them.

Evil people cut their heads off.

Evil people nailed their heads to the door.

I questioned the existence of god 10 years ago... now I know without a doubt, there is no god.

The only friends I had are gone. Murdered by monsters who call themselves humans.

I repeat what I said on Squidoo 10 years ago....

I wish someone would love me.

I wish some one would be my friend.

I wish I had someone to talk too.

I wish someone would spend time with me.

Back then I had my cats. 

Now I have no one at all.

I wish I had my cats to love me still, now I have no one at all.

I wish I still had my cats to be my friends.

I wish I had my cats to talk too.

I wish I had my cats to spend time with me.

And the high priest is worse then ever. He no longer worries about what the bishop thinks - he's left the Mormon church. Now all he cares about is doing good deeds to others (while continuing to abuse and neglect me) he's doing good deeds, because each good deed is another gold brick added to his mansion in heaven, or so he says.... so says the man who thinks nothing of raping children and wiping away all memory of the existence of the children he fathered in children.

He made me live under the tarp for 9 years. From May 9, 2006, until March 31, 2015. I've lost most of the use of my left arm. I never recovered the frostbrite from 2007, my arm hurts all the time. It's difficult for me to type or hold a pen. The frostbite damaged my hands. I only have 3 fingers that still function well enough to type with now. I used to be a speed typer. Typed 191 words a minute. I can't draw any more. I can't sew anymore. The frost bit from 9 years living under the tarp, has crippled my hands. I continue to write but it's very hard now. My lungs have permanent damage now. It hurts to breath all the time now, not just in the winter.

He doesn't care, how badly he hurt my hands, or how little I can do any more. How crippled I've become. All he cares about is building his mansion in heaven. He keeps talking about the gold bricks and how every penny he put in a Salvation Army bin, is another gold brick for his mansion.

Does he really think, God is going to reward him for his PUBLIC SHOWS of charity, when he's so very abusive to his own family?

The last miscarriage was in 2006. He made me live under the tarp, because I dared get pregnant, and that's not allowed. He won't allow me to have children. He hates children. 

I had a stroke in 2010, but he wouldn't let me go to the doctor. Something happened to my brain after the stroke - I can talk now. I'm not mute any more. I can speak in full sentence now instead of just garbled gibberish.

I have a driver's license now. Got that in 2012. Had to fight like hell to get it. But he put a locking gas cap on my car and keep track of the miles. I'm not allowed to go anywhere. He still won't let me have any friends.

10 years ago, I at least had my cats. Now I have no one, and I find it even harder now, to want to live.

Life has become unbearable.

Who killed my cats? And why? Why would someone do that? They all I had. Now I have no one.

No one cares.

It's bad enough no one cares, but some where out there, is someone who hates me, so much that they murdered to only ones who did care about me.

I want it to end. I don't want to live in this world any more.

Have Information?
Call FBI Agent Andy Drewer @ (207) 774-9322 

Have Information?
Call FBI Agent Andy Drewer @ (207) 774-9322 


If life gives you lemons,
then you grab life by the balls and say you're taking them too.

Why make lemonade when you can make testicle stew? 
I don't take shit from no one,I stand up to bullies like you.
I don't like bullies, bullying me,  cyberbullies, offline bullies, any bullies. 
Say NO to the bullies of the world.~EelKat



“Don’t turn your face away. Once you’ve seen, you can no longer act like you don’t know. Open your eyes to the truth. It’s all around you. Don’t deny what the eyes to your soul have revealed to you. Now that you know, you cannot feign ignorance. Now that you’re aware of the problem, you cannot pretend you don’t care. To be concerned is to be human. To act is to care.” 

― Vashti Quiroz-Vega


Do YOU Find THESE Hate Crimes Funny?


Do You Know Who The Bully Is Who Drove This Backhoe
Over My House August 8, 2013?
Have Information? 
Call FBI Agent Andy Drewer 
@ (207) 774-9322 

The Tarp - My "House"
Since Cyber Bully "Kendra Silvermander's"
Bomb Blew Up My House
October 18, 2006

Above: The garbage vandals dumped in my yard, the day they shreaded my tarp

Below: The house days after the bomb blew it up

Or Maybe You Find These Shootings,
Beatings, Death Threats,
CAUGHT ON CAMERA
Maybe You Find Things Funny Too?























































Have Information?
Call FBI Agent Andy Drewer @ (207) 774-9322 

Ten Kidnapped Cats

Most Recent Pictures Of My Cats

The following pictures were taken on May 14, 2015, when the police officer who confessed to doing the majority of the damage and vandalism, let me go to the kennel where my cats were being held hostage to see them. You can see from the photos, the horrific living conditions my cats have been kept in these past 4 months since they were kidnapped on April 10, 2015. Each cat is being kept in a cage that is not even big enough for them to move.

The cats are shown from oldest to youngest:

Georgie - age 15

Emily - age 15

Mittens - age 15

Bela Lugosi - age 14

Dog - age 10

Fizzgig - age 9

Kewpie - age 6

Blackie - age 5

Sprout - age 5

Pipsisewah (Pippi) - age 5

Full details on how, when, and why the cats were kidnapped can be found ON THIS PAGE.

The cats are currently be held hostage HERE.

These senior house cats are being listed as feral barn cats, a fact that I find very upsetting. The description they have placed on my cats is as follows:

Desperately Seeking Barns

FoFF currently has dozens of feral cats, who will be fixed and vaccinated, needing country or semi-rural homes with barns or other outbuildings to relocate to. These cats will lose their feeders but cannot be fixed and relocated until they have places to go. (Which could mean more new kittens in the meantime.) Please help us by adopting 1, 2 or even a small group. In turn they will keep your barn free of rodents and other critters. Usual donation of $40 per cat reduced to what you can afford so we can help as many as possible. Help us get these guys into homes before winter!

Please help--the need is great!

Contact apfish255@gmail.com or call 797-3014.

feral cat is one that has lived apart from humans for so long that it is not socialized to humans. It has been abandoned or was born in the wild and has lived so long in the wild that it is not a candidate for adoption into a home.

stray cat, on the other hand, is a domestic cat that has been abandoned or lost. It can usually be socialized to live with humans again in a home.

Feral cats are best suited to living outdoors with shelter in a safe place, food, and water. If they are vaccinated against rabies and spayed or neutered, they can live a contented life.

Uncared-for feral cats may struggle to live and eat, are subject to accidents and illness, inclement weather, and injuries from fights with other cats. Feral kittens up to 8 or 10 weeks of life can be socialized to live in homes, but not after this period.

The best way to help feral cats is TNR, a program of 

Got mice? Put feral cats to work for you, in exchange for room and board!

Many feral cats are not likely to be be suitable as indoor housecats, but you can still give them a safe, warm home in your barn, and in exchange, they'll keep the rat and mouse population under control.

We're always looking for homes in barns, garages, sheds, or other outbuildings for feral cats who must be relocated from their colonies.

All FoFF barn cats are vaccinated and spayed or neutered. We recommend the adoption of two or more from the same colony so they have the companionship they need.

We ask that cats be given dry cat food and fresh water every day, and they must be contained for one week or longer in a large wire kennel (which FoFF can provide), to allow them to acclimate to their new environment.

Do you see what those monsters are saying about my DOMESTIC HOUSE CATS that LIVED WITH ME FOR 15 YEARS!

These people are so racist and so bigoted against Gypsies that they don't even consider us humans. Do you see what they said?

A feral cat is one that has lived apart from humans for so long that it is not socialized to humans. It has been abandoned or was born in the wild and has lived so long in the wild that it is not a candidate for adoption into a home.

In the eyes of these people, I am not a human, they admit it right on their web site.

These monster broke into my home, ripped to door off, tore the furniture up and smashed it to pieces, shredded my sofa with a pitchfork, that they left in it when they left, shedded our bedding, and pumped hundreds of gallons of raw sewage into our house - on my bed, 3 feet deep on my floors, on my counters, on my walls, on my ceiling.

These vile, racist, hate filled monster did that to my house, and then took my cats, claiming that the house was already like that when they arrived.

Friends of Feral Felines and their violent, racist, hate filled criminal operation needs to be shut down.

These people PRETEND to help cats, but look at what they did, to take my cats. The violence, the vandalism. They are running a scam operation.  These monsters break into peoples home while they are gone to work, trash their houses, fill their houses with sewage, and then call the police to illegally seize the cats and charge the owners will thousands of dollars in vet bills. Then they list the cats for sale on their website, claiming that the fees they charge of for the vet bills, that the owners ALREADY PAID FOR. 

They beat my cats heads in, two of them are crippled for life now, and those bastards had the nerve to send me the $2,000 vet bill for the injuries they did to my cats.

How many other families has this criminal operation destroyed?

How many cats have they stolen away from their families?

How many homes have they broken into and trashed?

How many innocent people have they set up the way they set me up?

This has to stop.

This group must be shut down before they attack another innocent family.

This group must be shut down before they destroy more lives.

This group must be shut down before they hurt more cats.

And to think, I used to fund Friends of Feral Felines.

As the founder of the Proctor & Gamble Boycott, I declare a new boycott founded. From now on, we boycotters of P&G add a new company to our list: Friends of Feral Felines - may their vile criminal members spend eternity in hell forever having their heads beat in by cats.

Please get my cats away from these monsters and bring them home.

More Photos of My Cats Which These Lying Thieves Are Claiming Are Ferals Who Had No Contact With humans:

VERY old picture of Georgie and Emily, back in the house that was blown up by a grease fryer bomb on October 18, 2006... back in the days before I had a neighbor with a backhoe hell bent on putting a condominium on my land. yep - these cats are so old, I had them before the harasser moved to Maine. the man behind the sewage dumped in my house to frame me, thus why ten cats were taken on false charges, is the EXACT SAME man who has now run over 3 separate houses. This man has no morals whatsoever and sees nothing wrong with driving backhoes over our houses as fast as we build them.

Cats in motorhome - notice white flokati wall to wall carpeting - not a feces in sight, because I vacuumed daily. 

Under the bed, sleeping on the flokati - notice how WHITE and CLEAN i kept the inside of my motorhome. (And how infuriated I am that the kidnapping bastards thought nothing of filling my home with feces and sewage and destroyed my white flokati in addition to kidnapping my cats.)

Bela - a few HOURS before the kidnappers destroyed our home and stole our cats.

Me, Bela, and Georgie - 2 days before kidnapping.









More topics I write about:

52 Stories in 52 Weeks Writing Challenge 50000 adventure advice advice for writers aliens animals Art Arts author authors Autism birds  blogging books CafePress cats characters Copper Cockeral Cards and Gifts CosPlay EelKat Etiole faeries Family fantasy fiction