The Wonderfully Wired Illustrated Phrasebook

/ˌeɪ diː eɪtʃ ˈdiː taks/ (n.)

The levy on existing in a world built to someone else's spec. Extra effort to attend, extra energy to translate, extra recovery afterwards.

The invisible surcharge for having this brain. Late fees, the third charger, the parking ticket earned by three minutes, the thing bought twice because the first one is somewhere.

COMMON PARLANCE

/ˈbɒdi ˌdʌblɪŋ/ (n.)

A task, plus a quiet human. They are not helping. They must not help. Their entire job is to exist nearby until the thing is done.

As in: “Don't talk to me. Please stay.” Related: brain doubles.

L. ANDERSON

/ˈbreɪn ˌdʌblz/ (n.)

A partnership between your mind and an AI that works the way you already think. Friction eased, strengths amplified, the gap between the idea and the finished thing closed. Your brain did not have to become a different brain.

As in: AI Neuroadvantage: The Brain Doubles Framework (Book)

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈkeɪɒs ˌɡɒblɪn/ (n.)

Harmless mischief, unpredictable energy, and lighthearted disorder. One who trails glorious mayhem and calls it momentum.

AKA: “Agents of entropy.”

INTERNET SLANG

/ðə ˈtʃeə/ (n.)

Where discarded clothes too worn for the wardrobe and too clean for the wash, and not quite right for the occasion go to think about their next outing. Every bedroom has one.

As in: “does this pass the style/sniff/crease test?” If yes, move to bed. See also: floordrobe (the wider estate).

COMMUNITY VERNACULAR

/ˈdɒlfɪnɪŋ/ (n.)

Going silent mid-conversation, making a million connections in nano-seconds, and resurfacing with apparent non-sequiturs.

As in: “Nice curry.” (5 seconds later) “Octopuses have nine brains.”

TERM: STIMPUNKS FOUNDATION

/ˈduːm paɪl/ (n.)

A stack of ‘can't face it stuff’ piled up in one place, giving the illusion of organisation. A time capsule of one's indecision.

Acronym for: “Didn't Organise Only Moved.”

COMMON PARLANCE

/ðə ˈdɔː slaɪd/ (n.)

Relief, arriving all at once. The working week is over, you are home, and the door is closed behind you — shutting out the noise, the requests, the performance. Back against it, you gratefully slide to the floor. Nobody gets past the door without permission.

As in: “Monday was a lifetime away.” See also: masking, quiet time.

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈdəʊpəmiːn ˌtʃeɪsɪŋ/ (n.)

The search. Not for anything specific — for the small sensory rewards that keep you moving forward. A new hobby, a new tab, a snack, a travel plan made at midnight.

The chase is the point. The subject is optional.

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ɪˈməʊʃənl ˈreɪdɑː/ (n.)

The antenna reading the room before the room reads itself. Every shift in mood, tension, or unspoken friction is received at full strength — sensitivity as involuntary reception.

As in: “Is everything okay with those two?” Nobody else noticed. You felt it from the hallway.

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈɛvrɪθɪŋ bʌt ðə mɪlk/ (phr.)

The errand that goes wonderfully off course. You left for one small, sensible thing and came home with an armful of things nobody needed, and one you’ll love forever.

As in: “Just popping out for milk.” Back three hours later, with an antique lamp and a kitten. No milk. See also: side quest.

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈfɛrəl/ (adj.)

Undomesticated, and happier for it. The self that surfaces when you allow it to, preferably when nobody’s watching and nothing needs managing — unbrushed, unscheduled, entirely at home.

As in: “I’m going feral this weekend.” A plan, not a warning. See also: unmasking, chaos goblin.

INTERNET VERNACULAR

/ˈflɔːdrəʊb/ (n.)

Open-plan clothing storage. Everything visible, nothing ever lost, no doors to fight. You know where everything is.

Related: “The walk-on wardrobe” and “shake and sniff” dressing.

COMMON PARLANCE

/ðə ˈfɔːs fiːld/ (n.)

A thing you fully intended to do - the washing, timesheets, pay bills- is now rendered impossible due to the hostile force field around it. The intention was real, but so is the force that repels all comers.

As in: “I promised I’d do the thing today.” You meant it. But you didn't account for the force field. Now it will have to wait until tomorrow.

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈɡlɪmə/ (n.)

A glimmer is the opposite of a trigger: a small, often fleeting moment that makes your nervous system feel safe, calm, or quietly pleased. Think sunlight on a wall, the smell of coffee, a favourite texture, a dog on the street, a particular song.

Nothing dramatic, just a micro-moment that settles you rather than winds you up.

TERM: DEB DANA

/ˌhʌipəfɪkˈseɪʃn/ (n.)

The all-consuming interest that arrives unannounced, colonises six weeks, and departs the same way, leaving memories and equipment behind.

See also: I'm all in. Until I'm all out.

COMMON PARLANCE

/ˈhʌɪpəˌfəʊkəs/ (n.)

Going under. One project, complete immersion, total absorption. The rest of the world switched off — hunger, time, the doorbell, nothing intrudes. A state you vanish into for hours, eventually emerging discombobulated and probably hungry.

As in: “What day is it?” Unclear. It was Tuesday when she started. See also: hyperfixation, monotropic mind.

CLINICAL ORIGINS, NOW COMMON PARLANCE

/ˈɪnfəʊ ˌdʌmpɪŋ/ (n.)

Affection, delivered as a lecture. Forty minutes on octopus cognition, offered the way other people offer flowers (but more deeply researched.)

As in: “...and that's the third reason octopuses dream. Anyway, how was your day?”

INTERNET SLANG

/ˈdʒʌstɪs ˌsɛnsɪˈtɪvɪti/ (n.)

Physical inability to let an unfairness go — including ones that are small, historical, or happening to somebody else entirely.

As in: Tendency to wade in to try to balance the scales. Often ends poorly.

CLINICAL ORIGINS / COMMUNITY VERNACULAR

/kɪˈnɛtɪk/ (adj.)

Built for motion. Thinking happens while walking, pacing, jiggling, humming or tapping. Sitting still isn't calming — it's stressful. Movement is relief.

Born kinetic. Stopping it is not happening. Sorry (not sorry).

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˌleɪt ˌdaɪəɡˈnəʊsɪs/ (n.)

The answer arriving decades after the questions. Every report card, every “too sensitive,” every job that mysteriously fell apart — the whole back-catalogue reissued overnight with new footnotes. Grief and relief, in no particular order.

As in: “So I wasn't lazy/undisciplined/unintelligent/odd?” No. You never were. See also: unmasking.

FAST GROWING SEGMENT

/ˈmɑːskɪŋ/ (n.)

The longest-running performance of your life. Eye contact calibrated to the second, laughter in designated spots, the stim held down like a sneeze.

As in: “But you don't seem —” No. That's the show. See also: unmasking, stimming.

COMMON PARLANCE

/ˌmɒnəˈtrɒpɪk ˈmaɪnd/ (n.)

One channel, full signal, everything else on mute. Not a deficit; a monopoly. The tunnel isn't a malfunction, it's the factory setting.

As in: “Sorry. Did you say something.”

TERM: MURRAY & LAWSON

/ˈmʌlti tabə/ (n.)

A mind running lots of thoughts, interests, and half-finished tasks at the same time, the way a browser might have forty tabs open, several of them playing sound.

Also: Keeping dozens of browser tabs open, because closing one feels like losing the thought or the intention attached to it.

COMMUNITY VERNACULAR

/ˈnap trap/ (n.)

The twenty-minute rest that swallows the afternoon. Entered voluntarily at 2 PM; exited disoriented at 6 PM, in a different mood and possibly a different season.

As in: “I just closed my eyes for a second.” It is now dark outside. See also: zoomies, sloth energy.

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˌɒbdʒɪkt ˈpɜːmənəns/ (n.)

In the textbooks: an infant's discovery that hidden things still exist. Mastered in the first year — allegedly. IRL: “Out of sight, out of existence.”

Related Q: How can I remember something that doesn't exist until I see it? Seems unfair.

JEAN PIAGET

/ði ˈʌðə ˈraɪt/ (n.)

The right hand, you meant. Not the left hand you tried first. Standard unit of ND navigation.

As in: “No, no. Your other right.” Also available in the other left, north, south, east and west.

COMMON PARLANCE

/ˈparəlɛl pleɪ/ (n.)

Two people, one room, two entirely separate activities, no obligation to interact. Friendship without the overheads.

See also: body doubling, where the other person anchors your task. In parallel play nobody is useful to anyone, which is the whole appeal.

COMMUNITY VERNACULAR · ORIGIN: M. PARTEN

/piːk raɪt/ (n.)

The exact moment a thing becomes correct. Is right. As it should be. You couldn’t have explained what was wrong with the thing before — but one object moves a smidge, and another is replaced, and everything settles. You can exhale.

As in: “There.” Nobody else can see the difference. You can. See also: x-ray vision.

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈpɛblɪŋ/ (n.)

Penguin courtship: pebbles, in industrial quantities, often stolen from the neighbours.

Ours: memes, links, useless facts, TikToks, small strange objects. “Here, I found this and thought of you.” Usually tut. Always love.

COMMUNITY VERNACULAR

/fəʊn kɔːl ˈdʒʌmpskɛː/ (n.)

The unannounced incoming call. No warning, no agenda, no indication of who has died. All senses jangling. Gripped by sudden anxiety.

As in: It is your mother. She wants a chat. Recovery takes a while.

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈprəʊsɛsɪŋ laɡ/ (n.)

The gap between hearing a thing and the thing arriving. Reception was perfect. The words were heard; they just hadn't finished loading.

AKA: Buffering. Also, lag is not lazy.

COMMUNITY VERNACULAR

/ˈkwʌɪət tʌɪm/ (n.)

Not antisocial, not a preference, not open to negotiation. The hour that makes the other twenty-three possible. A necessary response to sensory overwhelm.

As in: “My quiet time is non-negotiable.” It really is.

COMMON PARLANCE

/ˈrabɪt həʊlz/ (n.)

One question, pursued diligently and with delight, until it leads to another. And another. And yet another.

As in: “I’ll just check one thing.” You will not surface for some time, and you may emerge in a (maybe) adjacent knowledge zone, armed with multiple new data points.

COMMON PARLANCE · ORIGIN: L. CARROLL

/rəˈkuːn ˈɛnədʒi/ (n.)

Bright, shiny, mine. The high-speed pursuit of whatever just glinted — an idea, a hobby, a fact, an actual shiny object.

The only one of us who wears the mask on the outside.

COMMUNITY VERNACULAR

/ˈreɪdʒ ˌkliːnɪŋ/ (n.)

Cleaning powered entirely by fury at something unrelated. Astonishingly effective. Runs on adrenaline and stops the second it runs out.

As in: the kitchen has never been cleaner. Nobody may ask why. See also: zoomies.

INTERNET VERNACULAR

/ˌɑːr ɛs ˈdiː/ (n., abbr.)

Rejection sensitive dysphoria. Criticism — real, implied, or entirely imagined — creating mind numbing anxiety and arriving as tangibly as physical pain.

As in: “Oh no. They haven't replied. They hate me.” It has been four minutes.

TERM: W. DODSON

/seɪf fuːd/ (n.)

The meal that is never wrong. Same texture, same temperature, same outcome. Not a preference — a guarantee, and guarantees are rare.

As in: eaten happily for the eleventh night running. Do not suggest a variation.

COMMUNITY VERNACULAR

/ˈsaɪd kwɛst/ (n.)

One task quietly becomes another, then another. You set out to wash the car; by teatime you’ve built a rabbit hutch. The rabbit is delighted.

As in: “Just need to find the sponge first.” The car is still dirty. See also: rabbit holes, everything but the milk.

GAMING ORIGINS, NOW COMMON PARLANCE

/ˈsɪlvə fɪʃ/ (n., fish not insect)

The brilliant thoughts that arrive all at once, like a tornado of luminous, swirling, shoaling sardines — and equally impossible to capture.

Context: “If I could only land a fraction of my ideas, you'd be impressed by their brilliance. Sadly, they're too slippery.”

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈsləʊθ ˌɛnədʒi/ (n.)

Slow and steady, in the face of absolutely everything. The sloth has survived sixty million years without once hurrying.

As in: The sloth is not behind schedule; the sloth is the schedule. Respect the sloth energy.

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈsəʊʃl ˈbat(ə)ri/ (n.)

Finite, non-negotiable, visible only to you. Depletes faster in groups, under strip lighting, and around anyone who opens with “quick question”.

As in: “I'm at four percent.” Not a mood. A reality.

COMMON PARLANCE

/sp.ɪn/ (n., abbr.)

Special interest, abbreviated. Intense, hyper-focused passion. The more arcane, the better. Flemish tax law, anyone? Generally long-term. Brings joy, lowers anxiety.

Related: Meeting someone with the same niche interest: Finding a unicorn.

CLINICAL ORIGINS. NOW COMMON PARLANCE

/spuːnz/ (n.)

Units of daily energy. Fixed allowance, no overdraft, no appeals process. When out of spoons, concede.

Units of caring, as in “not a spoon left to give.”

TERM: MISERANDINO

/ˈstɪmɪŋ/ (n.)

The body regulating itself, out loud. Rocking, tapping, humming, the hands doing their own thing. Not a habit to be broken; a system doing maintenance.

As in: “Sorry — I fidget.” Don't apologise. See also: masking, where all of this gets held down like a sneeze.

CLINICAL ORIGINS, NOW COMMON PARLANCE

/tɑːsk pəˈralɪsɪs/ (n.)

Complete understanding of the task, full willingness to do it, and total inability to begin. The wanting and the doing are wired separately, and only one is answering.

As in: “It would take four minutes.” Yes. It has taken three days and much hyperventilation.

COMMON PARLANCE

/ˈtaɪm ˌblaɪndnəs/ (n.)

The two available times: now and not now. Related: Time as a shape shifter.

Time agnosia: the brain declines to perceive or estimate time. “In 5 minutes” can mean 2 minutes or next week.

COMMON PARLANCE

/ʌnˈmɑːskɪŋ/ (n.)

Putting down a performance so long-running you'd forgotten it was one. Slower and stranger than expected, because you have to find out what's underneath.

Hard to figure out where the mask ends and you begin. See also: masking.

COMMON PARLANCE

/ˈvɜːbl ˈaʊtɪdʒ/ (n.)

Words, temporarily out of service. Thoughts are intact and queuing politely, but the mouth is on strike. Not sulking, not rudeness; capacity.

As in: nodding, pointing, monosylabic answers. AKA: going nonverbal.

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈweɪtɪŋ məʊd/ (n.)

One thing, hours away, and the entire day is held hostage by it. Nothing can be started because the thing is coming, and apparently you must wait for it to arrive.

As in: “I can't this morning — I've got a dinner thing.” The alarm is set for five, for a thing at two.

INTERNET VERNACULAR

/ˈɛks reɪ ˈvɪʒn/ (n.)

Seeing through the surface to the structure beneath. The connections nobody else has seen, the shape of the system behind the noise, patterns that are always there. Can't be switched off.

As in: “How did you know?” You can't explain. You just saw.

COMMUNITY VERNACULAR

/ðə ˈjɛs trap/ (n.)

Agreeing instantly, sincerely, and without consulting yourself. Regret arrives about four seconds later; the date approaches for weeks.

As in: “Of course!” — said by someone who now has plans on Saturday even though she'd planned on not having any.

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈzɪərəʊ əˈpɒlədʒiz/ (n.)

House policy. Neural wiring is not a fault, so it receives no apology. Not for fidgeting, the lag, eating the same meal eleven nights running, or leaving early.

As in: “Sorry, I—” No. Start again. Why apologise for being exactly as you should be?

WONDERFULLY WIRED

/ˈzuːmiz/ (n.)

Borrowed from dogs, and entirely accurate. A sudden unexplained surge of energy, usually arriving at 11pm, usually spent reorganising something that was already fine.

See also: rage cleaning; sloth energy, the other parts of the same cycle.

INTERNET VERNACULAR