As evidenced by the fact that I have a blog that often deals with fandom stuff, I am heavily invested in fiction-based media. I have always been that way, and I think it’s for a few reasons that all, in turn, inform each other: I’m a creator myself, I have an overactive imagination, and I’m that kind of autistic. As you may remember from the autistic Cameron Howe essay: “Autistic females often create an elaborate fantasy world. Much like an autistic boy would develop strong, specialist interests, an autistic girl may develop a vivid imaginary world or take great joy in escaping into fiction.” That’s very much me, and it always has been.
To wit: back in my childhood, which is to say the Sailor Moon days, I went to something I now call summer camp/daycare. During the year it was a preschool/pre-k/kindergarten (and I’d attended it in that context) but during the summer they also had programs for all elementary school kids. It was a pretty nice environment, all in all. It taught me crucial things like bead animals, French hopscotch, and a number of deeply earwormy camp songs. My friendgroup here, many of whom had known each other since we were in kindergarten, basically ruled the place, in the most benevolent way possible. The teachers were prone to allowing us to halt the entire camp’s afternoon to force our peers to sit there and watch us perform all number of mediocre plays and collections of amateur dance numbers; amazingly, this did not make every other student resent the shit out of us, but instead actually inspired admiration from some of the younger ones. I don’t recall getting in trouble at this camp… until the Sailor Moon summer.
Full story here.