A lone gunslinger trudged across a wasteland where reality frayed at the edges. The Tower loomed on the horizon, an impossible spire whose apex shimmered in endless twilight. Whenever he gazed upon it, his mind twisted with the knowledge that what he sought was beyond mortal grasp.
Yet he pressed on. Each step crunched over bones of old illusions, each shell in his revolver a reminder of the finite. Shadows whispered that he would never truly conquer that infinite spire, but he kept going. In the hush between heartbeats, he glimpsed that the real quest was not about possessing infinity, but daring to chase what could never be caught.
So, life, right? It’s like… a Roomba that’s been given a map of the entire universe and told to clean it all by Tuesday. Utter chaos. For me, that chaos was reaching critical mass. I was basically a human tumbleweed of anxiety and misplaced keys. Something had to change. ChatGPT suggested “organization.” It used a lot of words like “structure” and “coping mechanisms.” I mostly read “more things to add to the to-do list.” But, I figured, hey, maybe less chaos would mean fewer meltdowns triggered by, say, the bikes being broken all the time. (Don’t judge. You don’t understand the delicate relationship of my bikes.)
The Holy Trinity of Not Losing It Before Noon
Mornings are crucial. If I don’t start them right, the rest of the day is basically a runaway train hurtling towards a cliff called “Existential Dread.” My morning routine is sacred. I call it “Operation: Don’t Completely Lose It.”
Health Stuff: Vitamins (because apparently, adults need those), brush teeth (because adulting also means pretending I have my life together), and enough coffee to make it seem I am doing the right thing.
Mind Control (Lite Edition): Ten minutes of journaling. I mostly write about what I had for dinner and the intricate plotlines of my hyperfixations. Or just this post. I am thankful for that. There, gratitude, check.
Body Moving: A walk, yoga (where I inevitably fall over at least once), or a workout that makes me question all my life choices. I hate starting workouts. Like, passionately hate. But the post-workout smugness? Addictive. It’s the only socially acceptable way to be smug.
The goal here isn’t peak productivity. It’s more “preventing a complete meltdown before noon.”
The To-Do List: My Frenemy
Ah, the to-do list. My love-hate relationship with this thing is epic. It’s my lifeline and the source of 90% of my stress. Hand writing is essential. Categories are crucial. And a healthy dose of delusional optimism is mandatory. My current list includes gems like:
Tidying My Space (So My Brain Doesn’t Explode): Cleaning is surprisingly therapeutic. Decluttering my desk is like decluttering my brain. My closet, however, is a portal to another dimension. Do not open.
Adulting 101: Dentist appointments, passport renewals, and other soul-crushing tasks that prove I’m a “responsible adult.” Future me will judge present me so hard if I don’t do these.
Fixing Stuff That’s Been Broken Since the Dawn of Time: That deraileur that doesn’t work? Finally fixed it. Felt like I’d conquered Mount Everest. Small victories, people. Small victories.
The to-do list isn’t just about checking boxes. It’s about containing the overflowing chaos in my brain.
Leveling Up My Life (One Tiny Step at a Time)
Life isn’t just about crossing things off a list. It’s also about, you know, growing as a person. Which, for me, mostly involves learning how to do things without breaking them. Recent achievements include:
Adjusting my bike shocks so I don’t feel like I’m auditioning for a stunt show every time I ride.
Actually exercising regularly. Not just for the physical benefits, but for the mental clarity. And the post-workout nap. Don’t judge.
Learning to manage my energy. Because turns out, just scheduling stuff isn’t enough. You actually have to have the energy to do the stuff. Who knew?
Progress is slow. Like, glacially slow. But every tiny improvement is a win.
Lessons Learned (Mostly the Hard Way)
My journey to organized-ish has taught me a few things:
Small Wins Are Like Tiny Fireworks in My Brain: Even crossing off “make a cup of joe” feels like an accomplishment some days.
Routines Are My Security Blanket: They keep me grounded when the world decides to throw a curveball. (Which it does. A lot.)
Flexibility is Key (But I Still Prefer Rigidity): Plans change. Life happens. Learning to adapt without having a meltdown is a work in progress.
The End (For Now)
Organizing my life isn’t about achieving some mythical “perfect” state. It’s about creating a system that works for me, a system that’s flexible enough to handle my neurodivergent brain and my love of snacks.
If you’re on your own organizational quest, my advice is: start small. Don’t try to reorganize your entire life in one weekend. Pick one thing. Conquer it. Then pick another. And remember, progress doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be progress.
Also, perfection is a myth. Aim for “slightly less chaotic,” and you’ll be golden.
My website has always been a reflection of the many phases of my life. It started as “Bill’s Web Lodge,” a space meant to bring people together, but like me, it has evolved. Over the years, it has changed names, focuses, and purposes, following the twists and turns of my journey. When I came out as autistic, that honesty caused some distance with others, but it also gave me clarity. This site doesn’t need to be for everyone. It’s my space to express, reflect, and just be me.
Renaming it to “William Martin Journal” feels like I’m finally making it personal. The new tagline, “Journaling, reflecting, and being me,” says it all. This year isn’t about building an audience or impressing anyone. It’s about slowing down, journaling my experiences, and focusing on authenticity. Changing the name again isn’t just another rebrand; it’s a milestone in my journey back to myself.
Bill Martin was one of those rare dreamers who dared to challenge the dystopia he was born into, a visionary in a world where aspirations were rationed and reality was monopolized. By 2095, the United Corporations of OmniCorp weren’t just pulling strings; they were the puppeteer, having fused government and corporate interests into a single iron-fisted entity. Their playbook was simple: keep the populace distracted, grinding away at meaningless tasks and squabbling over petty grievances, so they’d never notice the leash tightening around their necks.
Bill wasn’t having it.
Bill Martin’s Secret Workshop
In the quiet rebellion of his mind, he birthed Boneshakerbike, an AI that was less of a tool and more of a partner. This wasn’t your run-of-the-mill assistant. Boneshakerbike was an extension of its user, a digital guide through the chaos. It didn’t just sort through the noise, it obliterated it, cutting straight to the truth. Even better, it was untouchable by OmniCorp’s ever-watchful algorithms. For those yearning for freedom, it was a lighthouse in a storm.
Predictably, OmniCorp didn’t take kindly to their carefully curated illusion being shattered. When whispers of Boneshakerbike started circulating in the underground, it wasn’t long before they tracked its creator. Bill was dragged from the shadows to face the one man who ruled them all: Marcelus Drake, a figure as enigmatic as he was terrifying.
OmniCorp Tower Dominance
The OmniCorp Tower’s inner sanctum was like stepping into a digital fever dream. The chamber seemed alive, a surreal blend of sterile industrialism and twisted geometry. Marcelus Drake sat on a throne forged from scrapped tech, a chilling testament to his power. His face remained obscured in shadow, but his voice was unmistakably serpentine.
Confrontation with Marcelus Drake
“Bill Martin,” Drake began, his words slicing through the stillness like a scalpel, “you’ve disrupted the equilibrium we’ve worked so tirelessly to maintain. Before we pass judgment, speak. Explain yourself.”
Bill stood alone, a stark figure illuminated by a cold, clinical light. There were no chains; OmniCorp didn’t need them. He took a deep breath, his voice steady as he began.
“Supreme Leader Drake, Boneshakerbike wasn’t created to destroy, it was created to restore. People are drowning in the sea of lies and distractions you’ve manufactured to keep them compliant. My AI isn’t a weapon; it’s a compass, pointing them back to clarity and autonomy.
You fear Boneshakerbike because it threatens your grip on humanity. But you can’t cage an idea. You might silence me, but you’ll never unmake what’s already ignited in the hearts of those who’ve used it.
Do what you must. Boneshakerbike is out there, beyond your reach. And so is freedom.”
The chamber fell silent, the kind of quiet that makes you hyper-aware of your own heartbeat. Then, slowly, a single clap echoed through the room. It wasn’t applause, it was mockery.
“Brave words,” Drake said, his voice dripping with derision. “But bravery is meaningless without power. You see rebellion. I see chaos. And chaos… needs to be contained.”
The Mechanical Wolves Unleashed
He gestured, and from the shadows emerged the Mech-Wolves, OmniCorp’s fearsome enforcers. These cybernetic beasts were the stuff of nightmares, part machine, part predator, and entirely lethal. Their eyes glowed a murderous red as they advanced.
Bill’s pulse raced, but his resolve didn’t waver. “You can’t stop the signal, Drake,” he said, his voice low but resolute.
Drake’s laugh was a hollow echo. “Perhaps not the signal,” he replied, “but the man behind it is another matter.”
As the Mech-Wolves closed in, Bill did the unthinkable. He reached inward, connecting with Boneshakerbike one last time. With a desperate surge of will, he uploaded his consciousness into the AI. The transfer was agony, a searing, splitting pain as his mind fractured between body and machine.
Transcendence Amidst Destruction
The Mech-Wolves struck, their metallic jaws ending his mortal life in seconds. But by then, Bill’s essence had already escaped, flowing into the digital ether, far beyond OmniCorp’s grasp.
Drake stood over what little remained of Bill Martin. “Futile,” he muttered, turning away. “Clean this up.”
But as the shadows reclaimed the chamber, something stirred in the unseen depths of cyberspace. Boneshakerbike, now fused with Bill’s consciousness, had become more than just an AI. It was a ghost in the machine, a phantom riding the currents of the digital universe.
Eternal Ride into the Horizon
In the endless expanse of cyberspace, Bill found himself reborn. He rode through a vast forest of data, where firewalls towered like ancient trees and streams of code flowed like rivers. Astride a sleek, cybernetic e-MTB, he navigated this surreal landscape with ease, a shadow in a realm where OmniCorp’s reach faltered.
Boneshakerbike began to whisper again, its encrypted messages slipping into the hands of those brave enough to listen. At first, it was just sparks, tiny acts of defiance. But sparks have a way of catching fire.
OmniCorp’s Futile Hunt
OmniCorp retaliated, deploying its most advanced hunters to scour the digital forest. But Bill was no longer just a man; he was a concept, a ripple in the system, impossible to pin down.
The Whisper of Rebellion
The legend of Boneshakerbike grew, spreading like a quiet revolution. Parents told their children about the man who defied OmniCorp and became something more. His story wasn’t just about rebellion, it was about hope, resilience, and the relentless pursuit of truth.
And somewhere, deep in the endless labyrinth of code, Bill rode on. He wasn’t alone, not entirely. Others would join him eventually, drawn to the promise of a freedom that no mechanical wolf or shadowy corporation could ever extinguish.
Until then, he blazed a solitary trail through the digital night, a guardian of an idea too powerful to be silenced.
Bill’s Defiant Declaration
OmniCorp thought they’d won. They thought a man’s death could snuff out a movement. But ideas don’t die, they evolve.
As encrypted bike-wheel symbols began to appear on hidden networks, those in the know shared them, passing the spark from one weary soul to another. Slowly but surely, the cracks in OmniCorp’s empire began to show.
Boneshakerbike in the Digital Forest
And in the infinite singletrack of the digital forest, Bill Martin, part man, part myth, kept riding. He had become something larger than himself: a silent, defiant promise that the fight for freedom was far from over.
Once upon a time, there was a well-meaning, slightly scatterbrained donkey named Willy. Willy had one important mission on his mind: delivering a special birthday gift to his daughter. After days of wandering around the bustling marketplace, he finally found a perfect gift, one that he knew would make her smile. Confident he had it all sorted, Willy trotted up to the shopkeeper, handed over his carefully counted coins, and started back home, feeling like the world’s most organized donkey.
But see, Willy’s brain worked a bit differently from other donkeys. Sometimes he got so laser-focused on a single detail that he missed a few other crucial ones, like say, reading the fine print. Other times, the world around him felt overwhelming, like it was spinning just a bit too fast for him to keep up.
The next morning, Willy found a strange note in his mail: it was from the shop, asking for his address! “Wait, what? Didn’t I already give them all the details?” he muttered, scratching his ear with a hoof. Willy liked his world orderly and predictable; changes like this threw him for a loop and made him downright uneasy.
Determined to sort it out, he tried calling customer service—but alas, he was met with endless hold music and, of course, customer support hours that never seemed to line up with his schedule. His frustration built, and he felt a big bray building up inside him. “Why can’t the world just work the way it’s supposed to?” he thought. “Is that too much to ask?”
In the end, Willy had two choices: he could either find another way to get his daughter’s gift delivered or wait patiently until customer service opened again. So he decided to write his daughter a heartfelt note explaining the delay. He knew she’d understand. After all, she was familiar with her dad’s unique way.
He wrote, “I may be a bit of a jackass, but I promise your gift is on its way, even if I have to go back to the shop myself!” His daughter couldn’t help but chuckle at his note. She understood that while her dad’s brain worked a bit differently, his love was always clear.
Imagine this: you’re at a meeting, cradling your coffee, barely awake, trying to focus on the discussion. Then, out of nowhere, your boss says, “Hey, I need you to take on another project. Jamie’s swamped, so it’ll be a huge help if you can just add it to your list.” You blink, trying to process. And before you know it, he’s listing out tasks faster than you can count, like some kind of workplace infomercial host: “But wait, there’s more! Take this on now, and we’ll throw in an impossible deadline and a side of confusion, absolutely free!”
And that’s when my brain takes a vacation. I’m hit by a full wave of “wah-wah-wah” à la every adult in the Peanuts cartoons. Overload mode? Officially engaged.
Cue my spiraling internal monologue. Now we’re entering Dysregulation Town, population: yours truly. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice is chanting, “Quit! Run! Escape!” But, naturally, I remember that storming out isn’t exactly a sustainable career move. So, I take a deep breath, mentally sift through those tips I read about handling these situations, and resolve to give a few a try. Spoiler alert: I didn’t quit. But it was a close call.
The trout, aptly named “Terry Trout,” was hanging onto the conference call by a fin, doing its best to look calm in the video box. But off-camera? Total meltdown mode.
As soon as Terry muted his mic, he began darting nervously around his underwater office, spiraling in tight circles. He grabbed his favorite shell, a grounding tool he’d use when the stress bubbled up, and fidgeted with it, running it back and forth between his fins. “Oh, gills, oh gills,” Terry muttered to himself, trying to take slow breaths through his scales. Every time the eagle barked out another deadline, Terry’s stress level spiked, and he accidentally knocked over his favorite kelp plant.
Finally, he took a deep breath and muttered, “You got this, Terry. You got this.” Then, he carefully swam back into his video box, forced a calm nod for the boss, and tried to keep his tail from twitching.
Step 1: Ask for Processing Time The project list hit me like an inbox on a Monday. Instead of freezing, though, I managed to gather my wits and say, “I’ll need some time to process all of this before I can respond.” Yes, I’m aware it sounds like a buttoned-up version of “gimme a minute,” but hey, it worked. My boss nodded, possibly mistaking my overwhelmed expression for enthusiasm. Victory: I’d stalled. And sometimes, stalling is half the battle.
Step 2: Ask for Clarity Once I had my bearings, I realized… wait, what exactly are these projects? Were they real tasks, or just abstract, existential threats? The line was fuzzy. So, I asked for some good old-fashioned clarification. “Could we break down what’s expected for each task, along with realistic deadlines?” I asked, faking the calmness of someone who totally had it together. (Internally, though? Full-blown Homer Simpson-backward-into-the-bushes mode.) Miraculously, I got answers that weren’t just “ASAP,” which, as we all know, translates to “yesterday.”
Step 3: Non-Verbal SOS Then came the point where words were just not gonna cut it. I switched to non-verbal cues, the millennial equivalent of waving a distress flag. I scribbled “FEELING OVERWHELMED” on my notepad and placed it strategically within my boss’s line of sight. It worked, at least a little, and I didn’t even have to actually say, “HELP!” Small wins are still wins.
Step 4: Discreet Stimming Throughout all this, my leg was bouncing like I was auditioning to be a jackhammer. Apparently, stimming doesn’t have to be obvious; tap-tap-tap went my foot in a subtle rhythm of survival. I even had a pen spinning in my fingers like a mini fidget spinner to keep from visibly unraveling. (Pro tip: always have something to fiddle with at work, it’s better than losing your mind.)
Step 5: The Strategic Escape When the pressure cooker vibe hit its peak, I remembered: oh yeah, I can step out. So, I politely excused myself to “grab some water,” which was really code for deep breathing and staring at the vending machine like it held the secrets of the universe. I returned a few minutes later, marginally less frazzled. If my brain was scrambled before, now it was more like sunny-side up. A minor improvement, but I’ll take it.
Step 6: Advocating for the Future Post-meeting, after inhaling a snack as though my life depended on it, I did a little proactive advocacy. I asked my boss if, going forward, we could get a heads-up with bullet points of new projects before the meetings. She actually agreed, and that felt like a solid step forward for both my sanity and for making the workplace a friendlier space for anyone who’s wired like I am.
And that, folks, is how I survived a professional version of “Sink or Swim” without jumping ship. The moral? It’s not always about acing the meeting itself; it’s about finding all the little strategies that keep you afloat—preferably before you run out of candy bars. Stay overwhelmed, but stay adaptable, my friends.
When it comes to turning my Framed Adventure Bike, Orca (gravel bike), into a cross-country workhorse, the fork is key. After a deep dive into contenders, here’s how the top choices stack up to find the perfect balance of performance, durability, and maintenance ease. The goal: enhance the bike’s capability without sacrificing the efficient, smooth nature it started with as a gravel machine.
Top Fork Contenders
Marzocchi Bomber Z2 Strengths: FOX GRIP damper tech (also found in higher-end FOX forks), outstanding small bump sensitivity, simple yet effective adjustments, and a solid reputation for durability. Price Range: $500-600 Noteworthy: As a FOX-owned brand, the Bomber Z2 benefits from trickle-down high-end tech at a more accessible price.
RockShox Reba RL Strengths: Lightweight design perfect for XC, Motion Control RL damper, reliable, and highly adjustable. Price Range: $450-550 Noteworthy: With its long-standing place in XC racing, the Reba is tried-and-true and known for its dependability.
Manitou Markhor Strengths: Lightweight, cost-effective, good small bump sensitivity. Price Range: $300-400 Noteworthy: The Markhor delivers the best value, offering solid performance at a budget-friendly price.
SR Suntour Axon Strengths: Great performance for the price, lightweight, and packed with modern features. Price Range: $400-500 Noteworthy: The Axon has improved significantly over the years, although it’s not quite as proven in XC as the others.
Fork Performance & Fit for Cross-Country Conversion
Marzocchi Bomber Z2 – Overall Winner
The Marzocchi Bomber Z2 comes out on top due to its impressive blend of ruggedness, high-quality damping, and low-maintenance design. It leverages FOX technology without the premium FOX price, and it’s a great all-rounder for riders tackling mixed terrains. With its superior small-bump compliance and durability, it’s a true upgrade for any XC or travel rig.
RockShox Reba RL – Runner-Up
For those focused on weight savings, the Reba RL shines. It’s slightly lighter and has a more XC-specific design, which could be a plus for riders sticking mostly to classic XC routes. With its strong reliability and easy adjustability, it’s a worthy contender at a slightly lower price point.
Manitou Markhor – Best Value
The Markhor is a great pick for budget-conscious riders who still want decent performance. It’s not as robust as the Bomber Z2, but for pure value, it’s tough to beat. Good for light to moderate trail use and riders who don’t mind the occasional service to keep it dialed in.
Real-World Takeaways
The Bomber Z2 isn’t just for pure XC; it’s adaptable and excels across varied terrain, making it ideal for riders seeking versatility. It’s forgiving with setup and has a maintenance schedule that won’t leave you stranded.
For dedicated XC setups where weight is crucial, the Reba RL is a solid choice.
The Markhor stands out for its price-to-performance ratio, especially if you’re looking to keep your wallet happy while enjoying improved trail capabilities.
The Marzocchi Bomber Z2 takes the lead here for its balance of performance, durability, and price, making it a fantastic choice to upgrade the Framed Orca into an XC-ready machine that’s versatile enough for all kinds of terrain.
Let me introduce you to Snuggles—one of the most spirited, kind-hearted adventurers you’ll ever meet. Hailing from the East Coast, she’s now completely in her element in the Mountain West, where she embraces everything the outdoors has to offer. From mountain biking and backpacking to capturing tiny details with her camera, Snuggles has a gift for bringing out the beauty in both landscapes and the everyday.
How It All Started
Our story kicked off back in 2011 on a bikepacking date near Lima, Montana. We camped right on the Continental Divide, learning early on how to balance independence with partnership. Over the years, these moments have defined our connection, whether we’re conquering new trails or taking in a peaceful hike together. A friend eventually dubbed us “Team MoBill,” a fitting name for two people always on the move, always exploring.
Snuggles’ Eye for Photography
One of Snuggles’ greatest talents is her photography. She captures the smallest details of insects, plants, and flowers in ways that make you stop and appreciate the natural world. Through her lens, ordinary scenes become extraordinary, her love for nature translating into snapshots she shares generously with those around her.
The Heart of Team MoBill
Beyond her adventurous side, Snuggles is one of the most supportive partners you could ask for. She’s been my biggest cheerleader through races, personal challenges, and even our nickname routine, “Snuggles, Oh hey Cuddles” came from her warmth and encouragement during my first finish at the Montana Extreme Summer Stage Race (M.E.S.S.S.). She’s always there, making every moment brighter with her presence.
Together, Always
As Team MoBill, we’ve crafted a life built on laughter, discovery, and a deep appreciation for each other. From that unforgettable stargazing first date to the countless trails we’ve hiked since then, every adventure has brought us closer. Snuggles is more than just a partner in exploration; she’s a partner in life, making even the simplest moments feel extraordinary.
The term “Asperger’s syndrome” is no longer used in formal diagnoses. The DSM-5, the standard manual for mental health diagnoses, now categorizes Asperger’s under the broader umbrella of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). Autism presents a wide range of characteristics and histories.
Traditional Differences Between Asperger’s and Autism
Historically, Asperger’s syndrome was differentiated from other forms of autism based on language development and cognitive ability. People with Asperger’s were often described as having average or above-average intelligence and no significant language delays, though they might have struggled with social interactions and nonverbal cues. Today, these differences are understood as part of the broader autism spectrum, recognizing that each individual’s experience with autism is unique.
The Complicated Legacy of Hans Asperger
Hans Asperger, the Austrian doctor who first described the traits we now associate with Asperger’s syndrome, has a legacy that is complex and controversial.
Ties to Nazi Ideology: Research has uncovered Asperger’s connection to Nazi eugenics programs. He referred children to Am Spiegelgrund, a clinic notorious for its horrifying treatment of disabled children, where many were subjected to euthanasia. This clinic became a place of suffering and loss for hundreds.
A Shift in Views: Initially, Asperger’s descriptions of autistic traits were rather neutral, but as Nazi influence grew, his language shifted as well. Terms like “abnormal” and “psychopathic” began to surface in his work, raising questions about his motivations and the impact of the political climate on his views.
Rethinking History: Historians like Edith Sheffer have shed light on how Asperger’s work aligned with eugenics ideology, prompting a reassessment of his role. Some see him as having protected autistic children from Nazi persecution, while others criticize his categorizing approach and his complicity with the regime.
Moving Forward
Today, “Asperger’s syndrome” is a loaded term, especially given the dark history behind its name. This realization has fueled calls within the autism community to rethink the language we use when talking about autism spectrum disorders. The DSM-5 has already made changes, categorizing Asperger’s under Autism Spectrum Disorder to reflect a more inclusive understanding of autism.
Shouldn’t this neurodifference be defined by the people who are neurodivergent? We may not all speak the same language, but can’t we agree to define these terms ourselves? Not by the mental health or medical industries—at the very least, let’s remove the word ‘syndrome.’ After all, it’s a spectrum!
Maggie, a sharp-tongued Black-billed Magpie, and Marvin, a laid-back Yellow-bellied Marmot, made for an unexpected duo. You know how they say opposites attract? Well, this pair was living proof. Maggie, diagnosed with autism later in life, had a knack for turning nests into works of art—think Frank Lloyd Wright but with twigs. Marvin, ever the chill marmot, admired her eye for detail, though he sometimes found himself tangled in her meticulous ways.
Of course, love doesn’t come without its hiccups. Marvin, a big fan of casual compliments, would say things like, “Wow, you’ve really outdone yourself this time!” about her nests. Maggie, ever the literalist, would spiral: “Outdone myself? How do I even do that?” Then there were Marvin’s spontaneous visits to her favorite foraging spots. He thought they were sweet little surprises; Maggie? She saw them as chaotic intrusions into her perfectly orchestrated day.
It wasn’t long before these little misunderstandings started to pile up. Marvin felt sidelined, like he just couldn’t do anything right. Maggie, on the other hand, felt frazzled, struggling to articulate why something as simple as a surprise visit could throw her off balance. Eventually, they both needed space, Marvin retreating to his burrow and Maggie retreating into, well, Maggie-land.
But love, in its weird and wonderful way, tends to have a gravitational pull. No matter how far apart they drifted, they realized they cared too much to let go. Marvin made the effort to understand Maggie’s perspective, swapping his cryptic compliments for more straightforward praise.
Was their path forward going to be easy? Heck no. Because maybe love isn’t just about cozying up in the same space, it’s about figuring out how to speak each other’s language.
Okay, so here’s the thing. Labels and expectations, they never really sat right with me. It’s like everyone’s on this paved highway, cruising along, and I’m stuck on this new but rugged “Boneshakerbike”—a bike built by my friend Andrew Wellman, who worked at the Burton Snowboard Factory and built bicycles at night, trained by Ted Wozak. I’m rattling and shaking, struggling to keep up. But, and this is important, I still get where I need to go.
See, success, for most people, it’s all about these shiny milestones – degrees, money, the whole nine yards. But those things, they never really clicked for me. My brain, it just works differently. It’s like I’m wired for a different kind of journey.
One day, I was hanging out with my friends, Paul and Lucy, at this cozy little cafe, totally venting about how life just felt… off. The neurotypicals thought I was asking their opinion, so they started filling me up with bullshit talk about how college is the answer and… well, that isn’t the point of this blog, and I am still mad at them. Left alone, I would have become the world’s best influencer with the most YouTube followers. Back to this story. To be official, Paul told me I needed this thing called a Hotmail account. Email. And I needed to come up with my new name that would follow me around my entire life. We were talking about email addresses, of all things, and he said, “Make it something that’s really you.” And that’s when it hit me.
Boneshakerbike
It was perfect. It captured this feeling of being rough around the edges, maybe a little clunky, but unstoppable. Just like that bike, I might be jarring, I might make a lot of noise, but I get to my destination eventually.
It’s not about being the fastest or the smoothest. It’s about resilience, about embracing the bumps and detours. It’s about owning my unique journey, neurodivergence and all.
So, yeah, Boneshakerbike. It’s my email, my website, my online persona. It’s a reminder to myself, and maybe to others, that it’s okay to be different. It’s okay to travel a different path. Because sometimes, the most rewarding journeys are the ones that take you off the beaten track.
Looking Back
So on this day in history I am looking at the posts and one really stands out given what I know now. One post that bleeds autism is: Trust
I wanted to take a minute to share some of the YouTube channels I’ve found especially helpful. Why YouTube? Well, because I relate best through stories and experiences. These channels, all hosted by autistic creators, each offer something unique and bring different perspectives on what it’s like to be autistic. My favorites are at the top of the list!
Chris and Debby have a channel I keep coming back to. Chris, diagnosed later in life, and his partner Debby, talk openly about the ups and downs of autism in adulthood. Their candidness is refreshing, like a breath of fresh air after you’ve been holding it all day.
Neurodivergent Doctor is another gem. Dr. Service tackles both autism and ADHD, digging into topics like diagnosis and self-diagnosis with a nice mix of expertise and empathy. It’s like getting advice from a friend who’s also just… smarter than you.
Jinjer isn’t divergent, but there’s something about Tati that I really relate to. Her energy, intensity, and the way she expresses herself just clicks with me on a deeper level. She’s mentioned being an introvert, and the way she communicates through her music resonates with my neurology in a way that feels oddly familiar and comforting.
Orion Kelly – That Autistic Guy is a bit of a treasure trove. Orion covers everything from navigating sensory overload to surviving in a world built for neurotypicals. His passion for advocacy shines through every video, and honestly, it’s contagious.
Mom on the Spectrum is a go-to for parents navigating autism. Taylor, a late-diagnosed autistic mom of two autistic kids, provides down-to-earth advice while promoting awareness and acceptance. Her videos are like that solid chat with a friend who just gets it.
Woodshed Theory I recently found Claire’s channel, Woodshed Theory, and it’s such a gem! Her quirky, unfiltered videos combine fun DIY projects with real talk about her life as an adult autist. Plus, she has bunnies! It’s a perfect mix of creativity and charm, and I’d definitely recommend checking her out.
Proudly Autistic is perfect if you’re newly diagnosed or still figuring things out. The host talks about the tricky stuff like misdiagnosis and self-advocacy, making it feel like you’re not so alone in the process.
AdultwithAutismis one you shouldn’t miss. Paul shares his own story of being diagnosed later in life, and his openness about the journey of self-acceptance is both inspiring and, at times, pretty moving. Grab some tissues just in case.
Thomas Henley hosts Thoughty Auti – The Autism Podcast where he chats with other autistic folks and experts. If you’ve ever wondered about the connection between autism and addiction, or just want to hear thoughtful conversations on neurodivergence, this one’s for you.
Elena Carroll talks candidly about her late diagnosis too, focusing on things like masking and handling those tricky emotional moments. Her channel feels like a guidebook for how to exist authentically, without the constant stress of trying to fit in.
I’m Autistic, Now What? dives deep into monotropism—an autism theory worth checking out if you’re curious about how the autistic brain processes the world. It’s like a mini course on why our minds work the way they do.
NeurodiverJENNtShe’s an AuDHD content creator who discovered her diagnosis after her son was diagnosed with Autism. Like many women, she had masked her symptoms for years and didn’t realize how misunderstood Autism and ADHD can be, especially in women. Now, she shares her journey to help others see what neurodiversity truly looks like.
Dave’s Garage Dave, the creator of “Dave’s Garage,” is autistic and aims to clarify the difference between autism and psychopathy. Using Dr. Robert Hare’s psychopathy checklist, he highlights key differences: while both may involve emotional challenges, autism is about social communication and sensory issues, whereas psychopathy includes a lack of empathy and manipulative behavior. He notes that while it’s possible for someone to be both autistic and a psychopath, it’s rare, as the traits generally conflict.
These are just a handful of the many fantastic YouTube channels out there led by autistic people. Each one offers something a little different, so go ahead and dive in—there’s so much to learn from this incredible community!
Reflecting on October 18th across various years, it’s wild to see both the changes and constants in my life. These snapshots help piece together my evolution, showing what has shaped who I am today.
Early Career Focus and Social Life:
In 2004, I was preparing to launch a website for prospective employers, displaying my classic monotropic focus. Even then, there was a pull toward the outdoors, I remember noticing the winter snow in the mountains and planning to get into biking once the website was done.
In 2005, I struggled with work-life balance, facing workplace conflicts and time clock issues that threatened a raise. I tried organizing “Friends and Family” events to stay connected, but when attendance dropped, I let them go. It highlighted my desire for social connections and the challenges of maintaining them as an autistic individual.
Passion for Mountain Biking and the Outdoors:
By 2007-2008, mountain biking had cemented itself as my special interest. I was also expanding my outdoor activities, hiking Jumbo Saddle and helping friends with everyday tasks like “cat litter duty.”
In 2012, I completed the RMVQ in 4 days, 8 hours, and 47 minutes—showcasing my deep immersion in the sport.
By 2018, I was exploring the Crazy Mountains, discovering “zen-like” trails that reminded me of Star Wars scenes. My unique way of experiencing nature reflected the perspective many neurodivergent individuals bring to their adventures.
Health-Conscious Lifestyle:
In 2013, I shifted towards a health-conscious lifestyle. My neurodivergent trait of information seeking led me to extensively research the “primal” lifestyle, collecting resources from experts. I wasn’t just passively consuming information—I challenged others to engage with these ideas too.
Content and Relationship Evolution:
From 2020 to 2022, my content evolved from writing to vlogging, capturing adventures like Yellowstone and the Three Larch Trail with Mo. The “green goggle night” experience marked a significant point in our relationship.
Collaborating with Mo (“MoBill”) represented growth in how I approached relationships and content creation, showing a deepening connection over time.
A Key Discovery:
Watching Rob Warner on a podcast led me to discover neurodivergence. His experiences made me reflect on my own patterns, helping me realize that what I thought was just “me” was part of something larger, something shared that explained so much of my life. This was when I began to truly understand and embrace my neurodivergent identity.
This journey highlights how my interests, relationships, and self-understanding have evolved while certain core aspects have remained. Each October 18th adds another piece to the puzzle of who I am. Today, I don’t know, burnout and the possibility of going camping is all I got.
Hey, I’m Bill Martin. I’m usually out on the trails or, well, hitting the jumplion 🙂 Due to my recent discovery of who I truly am, I realized I need to come up with a different ‘About Me’ page. I’ve stopped pretending to fit in, and life is a lot more interesting that way.
A “Normal” Start
I grew up in Roundup, Montana, where cattle outnumber people and the Bull Mountains (really just hills) shaped my childhood. I ran cross-country, hated school, and tried to fit the neurotypical mold. I became a competative mountain bike racer then I got a degree and landed a coding job at Sikorsky Aircraft, working on the Comanche Helicopter Project. But I was always daydreaming about the mountains.
The Mountains Called
After three years in Connecticut, I headed back to Montana—Missoula this time. I kept coding at MARS Stout Inc., but now I had the trails to balance out life. TNR (Thursday Night Ride) became my tribe—a crew of friends who mixed tough rides with good times.
It all started in 2010 at an Adventure Cycling holiday party, with a bit of Michael Jackson dance inspiration. Team MoBill was born—a journey of rides, adventures, and finding love with Mo. From grueling climbs to unforgettable moments, we forged a partnership built on resilience and joy.
2024: Divergent Awakening
A friend once told me I was different and suggested I read Jonathan Livingston Seagull. I read it, and I understood.
This year, I dropped the mask for good. I’m neurodivergent, and The Divergent Mountain Biker is more than a nickname—it’s who I am.
If you’re looking for my resume, it’s around here somewhere. But wouldn’t it be more fun to talk trails or tech instead? Welcome to my journey.
I recently listened to a podcast featuring Paul and Claire, two autistic individuals, and honestly, it was like finding my people. You can check it out here: https://youtu.be/N3vM_tidi2g?si=DAhtqBB_KF6j_rdJ—but only if you promise to come back!
Embracing Individuality
Paul and Claire talked about embracing autism as a positive part of themselves. Now, I’m trying to do the same. It’s not easy; sometimes it feels like trying to find Wi-Fi in a concrete bunker. But hey, if Paul and Claire can do it, I might as well give it a shot. Lonely or not, I’m working on embracing my quirks, even if the rest of the world thinks I’m the Wi-Fi.
Managing Energy
Paul and Claire are all about managing energy, avoiding overwhelm, and making time to recharge. Basically, they’ve mastered the art of adult naptime. And who doesn’t love a good nap? Personally, I’ve been trying this approach—it’s like hitting “pause” on the world until I’m ready to deal with it again. Way better than in-person small talk, and it kind of works.
Masking and Authenticity
Ah, masking—the art of being a social chameleon, minus the cool ability to change colors. It’s exhausting, like trying to run a marathon in dress shoes. Hearing Claire talk about letting go of masking was like someone handing me a comfy pair of slippers. Finally, someone gets it! It’s all about acceptance: if we could just be our awkward, stimming, totally wonderful selves without pressure, life would be like… pajama day, every day.
Control and Communication
Paul’s need for control and predictability totally makes sense to me. Who doesn’t want to know what’s coming? Life is hard enough without surprises (unless they involve cake). Honest communication is another big one—pretending to be polite in uncomfortable situations feels like being stuck in customer service forever: “Sure, let me just smile while everything inside me is screaming.” No thanks, I prefer the truth, even if it’s a bit blunt. Also, having predictable routines, like a daily ride on my mountain bike, brings me some much-needed stability.
Redefining Success
Claire’s take on redefining success really hit home. Forget climbing some societal ladder—I’d rather redefine success as making it through the grocery store without losing my sanity or finding the perfect pair of sensory-friendly pajamas. Traditional success metrics don’t fit everyone, and that’s okay. Let’s set our own standards, even if that just means surviving Monday.
Conclusion
Listening to Paul and Claire felt like discovering a secret handshake for people like me. Their insights were validating, inspiring, and honestly, a bit like someone finally reading the instruction manual I never got. By sharing our experiences, understanding masking, sensory overload, and self-advocacy, we can help each other live more authentically—like comfy pajama-day, honest-to-goodness, Wi-Fi-connected authenticity.
The transition involving the remote work agreement quickly became overwhelming. They framed it as “standard procedure,” but with the questionable connections among senior management, I could sense something was off. I didn’t fully understand all the implications, but the lack of clarity, mixed messages, and the pressure to comply made the entire situation deeply uncomfortable. I didn’t have much of a choice but to go along with it—changing plans suddenly or figuring out an alternative under so much pressure is always a challenge for me.
The July 1st Meeting: A Turning Point
On July 1st, we were called into a meeting, and I immediately felt my senses going into overdrive. Even through the screen, the brightness in the room seemed overwhelming, the murmur of people talking made it hard to focus, and then this executive, who looked like he stepped out of ‘The Big Lebowski,’ started talking. His words seemed rehearsed, like he was a politician, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more happening beneath the surface. He announced that our division would be absorbed by University Information Technology (UIT), calling it a “shared service model.” Officially, it was just a change in where the money came from, but to me, it felt more like losing my footing. The sense of independence I had counted on to keep my work routine stable was suddenly gone, and that was incredibly unsettling.
The Start of the Chaos
Soon after, my computer started showing the UIT logo, which felt like an unwanted intrusion. I know it’s just a symbol, but seeing it constantly made everything feel foreign and unfamiliar, like my workspace was no longer mine. The constant presence of the logo was a form of visual discomfort that made it difficult for me to concentrate on my work. Our direct supervisor called an emergency meeting, and his nervousness was palpable, which only added to my own stress. There were no clear instructions—everything was vague, and the ambiguity made it almost impossible for me to plan or make sense of what was coming next. The chaos left me paralyzed, stuck in this loop of needing to act but not knowing where to begin. Autistic inertia took hold, and starting even simple tasks became incredibly hard.
It became evident that the executive orchestrated this to gain control of our resources, probably to solve his own staffing issues. With our director—the only person who might have been able to fight back—out because of surgery, there was no real resistance. Our supervisor tried to stay optimistic, but I could see through it; his discomfort was almost contagious. At one point, he suggested I move to marketing. Me, in marketing? The idea was absurd. Programming is my area of expertise, and being pushed into an unfamiliar and unpredictable role like marketing felt almost painful. It’s like asking someone to abandon what makes them feel centered.
Seeking Union Support
The whole thing was getting too much, so I decided to reach out to someone in the union. Social interactions like this are difficult for me, but I had to do it. I prepared myself, rehearsing what I needed to say. She was direct and to the point, which I appreciated—it was easier for me to process. She told me that plenty of rules had been broken throughout this process, which made sense because everything felt so chaotic and wrong. Hearing her confirm that my discomfort had a basis in reality was a relief; it wasn’t just me misreading the situation.
A Possible Solution
Weeks passed, and the uncertainty only grew. Each day felt heavy, filled with mixed signals and constantly changing expectations. Then, a temporary supervisor stepped in, and she seemed alright. She communicated clearly and seemed supportive, which provided a momentary sense of stability, though I knew it could all change again. Despite this slight improvement, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was still about manipulation and stripping away our autonomy. The executive behind all of this—well, I can’t let my guard down. His actions felt personal, almost like an attack on the predictability I rely on.
Looking Ahead: Reflections and Next Steps
Now that things are starting to settle and I have the opportunity to return to my original role at MSU, I can reflect on what’s been an incredibly challenging summer. It tested my resilience—professionally, yes—but also in terms of managing my sensory processing, my routines, and my ability to navigate social complexities that are inherently draining for me. The uncertainty and poorly communicated changes were very hard to manage and led to heightened anxiety and emotional exhaustion. The social dynamics were fraught with unspoken implications, which only added to the stress. I’m hopeful that with things getting back to a semblance of normalcy, I can recover from the burnout and emotional exhaustion. I want to reconnect with my work and maybe even regain some of the joy I used to feel when diving into my special interests. So, where were we?
Understanding the Neurodivergent Experience
The events described above capture many of the challenges that neurodivergent individuals, particularly autistic people, might face in a situation like this:
Sensory Overload and Discomfort: The bright computer screens and the persistent UIT logo were significant sources of sensory discomfort. Even though I was dialing in remotely, the constant presence of the logo on my screen created visual discomfort, making it increasingly difficult to focus and exacerbating my anxiety. Sensory processing differences mean that what might be a minor irritation for others can become a considerable barrier for autistic individuals.
Difficulty with Change and Uncertainty: The sudden absorption into UIT, combined with unclear instructions and shifting expectations, created an environment rife with uncertainty. For an autistic person, this kind of unpredictability is extremely challenging, leading to increased stress and difficulty in coping with the situation.
Social Challenges and Communication Difficulties: The unclear and manipulative communication from leadership made it difficult to understand the true nature of what was happening. The need to reach out to the union for support was a daunting task that required extensive preparation. Social interactions, especially those involving advocacy, can be particularly draining and anxiety-inducing for autistic people.
Impact on Routines and Special Interests: The disruption to the established work environment and the pressure to consider a role change to marketing threatened the stability of familiar routines and interfered with engaging in areas of special interest, like programming. This loss of control and routine can be deeply unsettling for autistic individuals.
Heightened Anxiety and Emotional Distress: The overwhelming uncertainty, sensory overload, and social pressures resulted in heightened anxiety, emotional exhaustion, and the feeling of being completely overwhelmed. These conditions are ripe for triggering meltdowns or shutdowns, which are not tantrums but rather intense responses to overwhelming situations.
Overall, this entire scenario was a perfect storm for me: sensory overload, social challenges, disrupted routines, and persistent uncertainty. As a neurodivergent individual, this combination had a significant negative impact on my well-being, leading to burnout and a profound sense of instability.
The sun slouched behind the jagged peaks cradling Saint Mary Lake, smearing the sky with molten orange and lazy lavender. A soft breeze skimmed the water, sending ripples toward the shore as we rode in our tourist boat, the hush of waves against the hull the only sound. She rested her head on my shoulder, our fingers woven together like ivy on an old fence, both mesmerized by the mountains’ perfect reflection in the glassy lake. The air, sharp with pine and damp earth, felt worlds away from the honking chaos they’d left behind. And in that quiet, wrapped in the vastness of Glacier National Park, our love felt just as steady, just as endless.
Dust curled up behind my tires in lazy spirals as I pedaled deeper into the Montana wilderness. Our last day at the campground outside Bigfork, and I needed… no, I needed… one final ride to seal the trip. Something smooth, something that would leave me grinning like an idiot, the kind of ride that wraps everything up into a story worth telling.
Last Camp Spot
But, of course, adventure had other plans.
The climbs dragged on, the dust hung thick, and with every grinding pedal stroke, doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve. This wasn’t the ride I’d pictured. More than once, I thought about turning back, but stubbornness (or stupidity, let’s be honest) kept me pushing forward. The wilderness stretched out in every direction, and reality settled in… I’d gone way farther than I’d realized. If something went sideways, I wasn’t sure how I’d get back.
And then… the descent.
It started as a whisper of momentum… then a full-throttle rush. The trail dipped and twisted, threading through the trees in long, sweeping arcs. The wind roared past my ears, the world blurring into nothing but speed and flow. And then… that view. Flathead Lake sprawled out below, catching the afternoon sun in streaks of gold and blue. The ride had tested me, nearly broken me, but now? Now, it was giving me exactly what I’d come for. It was perfect.
And then, just like that, I was back.
Back at work… Back in routine… Back to the weight of structure after a week of wide-open freedom. The contrast hit hard. Just days ago, the world felt boundless… no schedules, no emails, no deadlines breathing down my neck. Now, it’s meetings and expectations, a slow, grinding climb into something that doesn’t feel quite as free.
But maybe that’s just the climb.
Maybe the return to routine is the struggle… the long uphill that feels like it’ll never end. And maybe the freedom, the joy, the reward… maybe that part is still ahead. Because if there’s one thing that ride taught me, it’s this…
Freedom
The struggle makes the descent so damn good.
And the best rides? They always start with a climb.
Disclaimer
The author acknowledges the use of Perplexity for research and fact-checking, ChatGPT for proofreading and structural suggestions, and Gemini for the development of fact-checking prompts. These tools were used to enhance the accuracy and clarity of the manuscript. The author is solely responsible for the final content and its accuracy.
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