When I was younger I used to walk a lot. It all started when I was a teenager still living at home with my parents. I'd sneak out the backdoor when everyone else was in bed and just walk and walk. We had a dog at the time which was quite active so I would take it with me and she loved it too. When it heard me come creeping down the stairs, or go near the back door at night it'd prick its ears up, asking if we were going out again.
I was born and raised in Scotland by the shore so there were always loads of walks, loads of great views and interesting places. I'd have all sorts of routes I'd go on, a lot by the shore, but some high up to the hills behind my home town where you could see for miles. When you have insomnia and a mind that never stops racing, just getting out for a walk can be quite calming and relaxing and I'd always have my Walkman for company. It beats being cooped up indoors with things just running over and over in your mind. Even when the dog eventually passed away I'd still go on the same walks into the early hours.
When I had to move away from home to spend my placement year in industry I was once again by the coast, once again racked with insomnia and restless thoughts. The difference now was that I didn't need to sneak out, but I still had miles and miles and coastal walks, walks around town too. This was back when Sunday trading laws were still tight and the whole town centre would be deserted like a scene from "28 Days Later". I don't know where everybody went…but I still walked around.
For my first real job after university I moved into a land-locked concrete jungle, however I was soon finding good routes to walk at night, although walking soon gave way to driving and I'd go on nightly jaunts in my car rather than walking. Again I'd have all sorts of routes that would loop through local towns and villages, maybe stopping at a service station along the way, then back home.
When I stopped living on my own the walking kind of stopped. The main reason is that people thought it was "odd". How could I explain to a girl that I was just nipping out for an hour or so. "Where are you going?" "Nowhere, just for a walk." "Where?" "Nowhere really". In fact I even recall being stopped by the police on one of my early hours sojourns and they wanted to know what I was doing out at such an hour. "Nothing, just walking". When the late-night walks stopped I think a part of me stopped too.
I have moved again and once more I have found myself back at the coast, I don't think I could ever really live away it from it now. I've been here for years but still no routes. No walking routes or driving routes. Instead I spend the early hours watching DVDs or TV or drinking or playing my XBOX. I was feeling quite cooped up and agitated tonight. I'd had a bad day at work and was feeling anxious about a few things. To get myself out of the flat I took a walk to Blockbuster for some popcorn to accompany my movie for the night. It's only a 10 minute walk so I was there and back with my salted treats in no time. Except I didn't go back into the flat, I just tossed them into the porch and headed out to the beach.
I can't believe in all the time I've lived here I've never taken a late-night walk down to the beach. It wasn't that late so some people were still there, disturbing the silence. The piers are closed but there was a small group sitting around a fire on the beach playing acoustic guitars. Further along people were still kicking a ball around under the promenade lights. I took the long walk away from the promenade, into the darkness and toward where the waves were crashing. Such a sound, it's hypnotic. I walked along the water line where the sand was firm under foot and not hard to walk on at all. The sounds of the guitars and balls were soon lost to the sea's waves and I stared across the massive, black void to be alone with my thoughts.
Monday, 16 February 2009
Saturday, 14 February 2009
Do you think I asked for a 12 inch pianist?
As lacking in social skills that I am, there is one arrow I seem to have in my quiver in that I think I have a good sense of humour. Now I suppose everyone says that, however if I rationally analyse a social gathering (which I can easily do, after all I'm always on the outside looking in even if we're standing next to each other) then my jokes seem to get more and harder laughs. Unfortunately it does leave me looking a little like Chandler from "Friends" in that I stand there until I have something funny to say, then shut up waiting for the next joke to float along. This is to the extent that I have actually had people watch my face, smiling already, as I add something not intended to be funny to a conversation only for their face to relax at the end and add "oh sorry…I thought you were telling a joke." Hell, I've even had some people say I should be a stand up comedian, and I admit I've thought about giving it a go, however I'll stop short of believing my own hype for the time being.
I actually think that my Asperger's Syndrome (AS) has something to do with this…in a "God giveth and God taketh away" kind of deal. The same "out of the box" thinking that helps me in my computing career can seemingly also be used to find the funny lines that others didn't think of, and find them quite quickly too. Add to that my lack of empathy and "nothing is too much" attitude, not only can I seem to find lines that others didn't think of, but my range of possible material is also a lot more diverse as no subjects are "taboo" to me. And even if the end result is not taboo in itself, you can sometimes get there going by way of areas that are taboo.
This wide-ranging aspect to humour is something that I have learned to temper as I have gotten older. Like most social aspects, people with AS have to learn what comes naturally to others. I have had to learn (unfortunately by trial and error) that not everyone finds certain topics funny, and there are some things that you are seemingly never allowed to joke about, mainly gallows humour. However again I tend to apply my rational way of thinking to gallows type jokes and will crack them anyway and if people are offended I can go off on a lecture about how gallows humour has always existed and it is important to help people deal with difficult situations. What I have learned about gallows humour on my own travels is that it seems to split people into two camps…those for whom it is a tool to help them deal with a situation via humour, and those for whom it is a tool to help them deal with a situation by chastising gallows humour via righteous indignation. No matter what camp you lie in, gallows humour is at least of some use for you.
In a way I'm glad that it is at least one social skill that I have. It means that if I am in a group conversation it usually gives me the odd thing to chip in here and there (although it means waiting for others to do the ground work). I also think it gives people something they can warm to about you; it gives you a facet of personality, a hint of likability…just "something". Alas you can't build a circus on a one-trick pony, and if anything it might also make people not take you seriously and think you just mess around and that's all you are. Also as someone or something is usually the butt of a joke it can maybe also make you appear a bit negative and bitchy. Still, overall I don't mind, it's my "thing". If you can make someone laugh it's always good, and girls seem to say they like someone with a sense of humour and I've found that to be fairly true. I'd never go as far as to say I have "laughed someone into bed" (maybe out of one) but my sense of humour has always been a fairly large part of my relationships. Getting back to the one-trick show, however, it's a precarious edge to balance a whole relationship on.
I actually think that my Asperger's Syndrome (AS) has something to do with this…in a "God giveth and God taketh away" kind of deal. The same "out of the box" thinking that helps me in my computing career can seemingly also be used to find the funny lines that others didn't think of, and find them quite quickly too. Add to that my lack of empathy and "nothing is too much" attitude, not only can I seem to find lines that others didn't think of, but my range of possible material is also a lot more diverse as no subjects are "taboo" to me. And even if the end result is not taboo in itself, you can sometimes get there going by way of areas that are taboo.
This wide-ranging aspect to humour is something that I have learned to temper as I have gotten older. Like most social aspects, people with AS have to learn what comes naturally to others. I have had to learn (unfortunately by trial and error) that not everyone finds certain topics funny, and there are some things that you are seemingly never allowed to joke about, mainly gallows humour. However again I tend to apply my rational way of thinking to gallows type jokes and will crack them anyway and if people are offended I can go off on a lecture about how gallows humour has always existed and it is important to help people deal with difficult situations. What I have learned about gallows humour on my own travels is that it seems to split people into two camps…those for whom it is a tool to help them deal with a situation via humour, and those for whom it is a tool to help them deal with a situation by chastising gallows humour via righteous indignation. No matter what camp you lie in, gallows humour is at least of some use for you.
In a way I'm glad that it is at least one social skill that I have. It means that if I am in a group conversation it usually gives me the odd thing to chip in here and there (although it means waiting for others to do the ground work). I also think it gives people something they can warm to about you; it gives you a facet of personality, a hint of likability…just "something". Alas you can't build a circus on a one-trick pony, and if anything it might also make people not take you seriously and think you just mess around and that's all you are. Also as someone or something is usually the butt of a joke it can maybe also make you appear a bit negative and bitchy. Still, overall I don't mind, it's my "thing". If you can make someone laugh it's always good, and girls seem to say they like someone with a sense of humour and I've found that to be fairly true. I'd never go as far as to say I have "laughed someone into bed" (maybe out of one) but my sense of humour has always been a fairly large part of my relationships. Getting back to the one-trick show, however, it's a precarious edge to balance a whole relationship on.
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
It really is a new year
The Christmas and New Year period was pretty much everything I thought it'd be. It's a major break in routine and when you have Asperger's Syndrome (AS) routines tend to be important to you. I spent most days not really knowing what to do with myself. Feeling anxious and nervous, just waiting for each day to end only for it to start again the day after. Sometimes you even forget what day it is. I'd drink most nights, but it got to the stage where even that was a chore.
Then work slowly starts again but it takes a while for things to get fully back to normal. It was about the second week after getting back to work that everything just clicked into place. I was back to work Monday to Friday, 9 to five and I was going back to the gym.
Things are back to normal in some ways, but not all. I'm not long single now so that is taking some getting used to. In some ways it's good because I get to indulge in some new, selfish routines. I get to do as I please at the weekend so I've taken to visiting a nearby pub that plays rock music, so it's bearable. It's also filled with I guess the only urban clique that I can even partly identify with. There is no dress code, everyone isn't all wearing the same thing with the same haircut. And, of course, it has a pool table. That's what I do on Friday and then the rest of the weekend I do whatever. Sometimes take in a live gig, or just watch a DVD.
The downside is that life barely seems to have much purpose as routine is now all I have. Work, gym, work, gym, work, gym, rock pub, Saturday, Sunday and repeat. As I try and carve a new life for myself I'm finding myself looking to the past as well. I mentioned in a previous blog about living hundreds of miles away from home while at university…well I feel like that again - exploring the more anti-social side of myself. I'm even listening to the same music. I spent almost the whole of that six months away listening to Blind Melon on my Sony Walkman tape player. I'd listen to the same album over and over and they really seemed to be speaking to me and my situation. Their songs have a wonderful freedom and easy living message about them. They paint pictures of a nomadic life not tied down to possessions or emotional shackles. It's over a decade later and I'm still listening to their music and it's still evoking the same feelings in me.
Only now I'm not listening on a Walkman :) And back then I knew that my time away would come to an end, I knew it was a temporary environment; but now I seem to be right back there but this time with no end in sight.
Then work slowly starts again but it takes a while for things to get fully back to normal. It was about the second week after getting back to work that everything just clicked into place. I was back to work Monday to Friday, 9 to five and I was going back to the gym.
Things are back to normal in some ways, but not all. I'm not long single now so that is taking some getting used to. In some ways it's good because I get to indulge in some new, selfish routines. I get to do as I please at the weekend so I've taken to visiting a nearby pub that plays rock music, so it's bearable. It's also filled with I guess the only urban clique that I can even partly identify with. There is no dress code, everyone isn't all wearing the same thing with the same haircut. And, of course, it has a pool table. That's what I do on Friday and then the rest of the weekend I do whatever. Sometimes take in a live gig, or just watch a DVD.
The downside is that life barely seems to have much purpose as routine is now all I have. Work, gym, work, gym, work, gym, rock pub, Saturday, Sunday and repeat. As I try and carve a new life for myself I'm finding myself looking to the past as well. I mentioned in a previous blog about living hundreds of miles away from home while at university…well I feel like that again - exploring the more anti-social side of myself. I'm even listening to the same music. I spent almost the whole of that six months away listening to Blind Melon on my Sony Walkman tape player. I'd listen to the same album over and over and they really seemed to be speaking to me and my situation. Their songs have a wonderful freedom and easy living message about them. They paint pictures of a nomadic life not tied down to possessions or emotional shackles. It's over a decade later and I'm still listening to their music and it's still evoking the same feelings in me.
Only now I'm not listening on a Walkman :) And back then I knew that my time away would come to an end, I knew it was a temporary environment; but now I seem to be right back there but this time with no end in sight.
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
Messy minds and messy lives
One of the more annoying aspects of Asperger's Syndrome (AS) is my bad life organisation. I'm quite a messy person and left to my own devices I can be very messy indeed, and it's true what they say about mess detracting from your overall quality of life.
A lot of it is just my major procrastination where I always put things off until they have to be done. So I'll maybe one day not do the dishes and then that turns into three days. I won't tidy up after a night on the pop and then that turns into a week of not tidying up. It's one thing I'd really like to change about myself as it has a slight impact elsewhere. For a start I need about two days notice before anyone wants to come in, and if I meet someone outside as they pick me up/drop me off I always dread them asking if they can just pop in to use the toilet. What I'd do in an emergency like my boiler braking or something I just don't know.
It's also related a little to routines. I just don't have a routine for cleaning or tidying up. I have routines for some things…shower, laundry and stuff, but not for dishes, recycling, vacuuming and stuff like that. If only I could somehow get into a routine it would be good, and I'd be fine. I often tell myself I'll have a tidy up at the weekend, and sometimes I'll do a little, but never much. The only time I have a major clean up is when the landlord is coming over. Every time I do that I always like it and tell myself I should just make an effort to keep it that way…but over time I always slip.
A lot of it is just my major procrastination where I always put things off until they have to be done. So I'll maybe one day not do the dishes and then that turns into three days. I won't tidy up after a night on the pop and then that turns into a week of not tidying up. It's one thing I'd really like to change about myself as it has a slight impact elsewhere. For a start I need about two days notice before anyone wants to come in, and if I meet someone outside as they pick me up/drop me off I always dread them asking if they can just pop in to use the toilet. What I'd do in an emergency like my boiler braking or something I just don't know.
It's also related a little to routines. I just don't have a routine for cleaning or tidying up. I have routines for some things…shower, laundry and stuff, but not for dishes, recycling, vacuuming and stuff like that. If only I could somehow get into a routine it would be good, and I'd be fine. I often tell myself I'll have a tidy up at the weekend, and sometimes I'll do a little, but never much. The only time I have a major clean up is when the landlord is coming over. Every time I do that I always like it and tell myself I should just make an effort to keep it that way…but over time I always slip.
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
Limbo
It's the eye of a horrible storm. That time of year where Christmas has passed and you're waiting for New Year. Stuck between two horrific days. I'm off work all week and days just get wasted. Drink til I even get bored of doing that. Wander around town and everyone is out in their new jacket, new shoes, new bag, new hat…new whatever they got for Christmas. Clothes seem to be a popular Christmas gift for others. It's important to people how others see them and it's important that they are out and seen.
While I do appreciate the time off work, the break in routine can be a drag and I fill each day just waiting for the end. I get out of my bed too late to do anything of value or worth and go to bed regretting that I did nothing, hoping that tomorrow will be different.
Having no real life skills also means I never have any food in the house and live day to day as they come, relying on the work ethic of local takeaways when required…at least there are some places for who it's just another day.
While I do appreciate the time off work, the break in routine can be a drag and I fill each day just waiting for the end. I get out of my bed too late to do anything of value or worth and go to bed regretting that I did nothing, hoping that tomorrow will be different.
Having no real life skills also means I never have any food in the house and live day to day as they come, relying on the work ethic of local takeaways when required…at least there are some places for who it's just another day.
Friday, 19 December 2008
Epiphany
My Asperger's Syndrome was only diagnosed recently, about 8 months ago. Before that I lived my life undiagnosed and there was always a niggle at the back of mind; I always knew I was "different", "just not right". That niggling feeling was paired with feelings of inadequacy and inferiority. After all, they were the only things I could think of that could possibly be the root of my issues.
It's taken quite a while, but I've now come to realise something since my diagnosis… I'm not the person I thought I was.
When I initially went for my diagnosis I didn't think much about any effects it would have. A small part of me wondered if it would make any difference to me at all. Yet 8 months later I'm re-evaluating everything. I'm trying to find out who I *really* am. I'm trying to cast off my old skin and grow into my new skin, into my real skin. It's like I can finally stop trying to be what everyone else is and what everyone else wants, and just be who I am. Warts and all. Instead of suppressing and changing, I am now embracing.
It's taken quite a while, but I've now come to realise something since my diagnosis… I'm not the person I thought I was.
When I initially went for my diagnosis I didn't think much about any effects it would have. A small part of me wondered if it would make any difference to me at all. Yet 8 months later I'm re-evaluating everything. I'm trying to find out who I *really* am. I'm trying to cast off my old skin and grow into my new skin, into my real skin. It's like I can finally stop trying to be what everyone else is and what everyone else wants, and just be who I am. Warts and all. Instead of suppressing and changing, I am now embracing.
Saturday, 13 December 2008
Christmas Shopping
I got my Christmas Shopping (the little that I do) out of the way today. I combined it with going to a nearby town to collect my comics as I knew one item I needed to buy was sold in one of those industrial areas that I pass on the way.
Arriving at town, I parked up and went to a chip shop to get some sustenance, however the girl behind the counter asked if it was ok to wait while she cooked up some chips. I declined and said I'd be back later. Here is a tip you can add to your list of life's rules…never say you'll wait for chips in a chip shop as they don't want to keep you waiting too long so they're always underdone and roasting hot as they're right out the fryer.
Outside the comic shop was a ghastly woman on a mobile phone (I think ghastly people undergo some form of operation to have mobile phones transplanted onto their heads) talking about her financial problems in a volume such that anyone in the area could hear. So I pretended to look at some items in the window while I vicariously aided this woman in publicly washing her linen. It seems she was owed some £60 for an electricity bill or other.
Inside the shop a man was already at the counter so I had a browse of the shelves first. Now if you don't buy comics you won't know this, but comic shops are run like no other shop. You don't go in and take things from the shelves…the person who runs the shop has a list of the titles each customer regularly gets and when he gets his stock in he puts any comic on your list into your "file". So when you enter the shop the person running it gets your comics from your file, and you pay for any one-off purchases you may had made that day also. As I was browsing the woman from outside comes in and it appears the man at the counter is her husband. Her voice has not lessened for not being on the phone. She was incredibly loud and recounted a tale to her husband about how someone she knows went to Subway for lunch, and the story involved what they had to eat, with the punch line being "An' guess ‘ow much it was? Eight quid!"
It seems this woman fills her days with quarrels over money and the cost of living. And what was her husband buying? £250 worth of movie memorabilia.
Leaving the comic shop I went to buy some more work shirts so that I don't have to do laundry as often. Two shirts, an' guess ‘ow much? Fifty quid! Annoyed at having to spend so much and wondering where people on benefits buy their clothes, I entered the city centre proper on the hunt for gifts. The streets are always busy at the weekend but now it is nearing Christmas you can barely see 200 yards without your view being blocked by a temporary hut or stall selling this and that. People were, as usual, utterly without agenda and strolled everywhere at 0.5mph while their unruly children ran amok, brandishing rolls of wrapping paper like swords. If a child isn't pushing 99p worth of cardboard tubing into your ribs, someone outside a store is pushing a leaflet into your face, or shaking a bucket full of money, or comforting a crying child. I swear I've never seen so many crying children as I did today.
After telling the 1,000th shop assistant than I was fine and just looking, I still didn't find anything suitable so decided to head home. On the way back to my car I popped by the chip shop but they were now closed. Still, I'd rather have no chips than hard chips that taste like lava.
I actually live quite close to a large town, so I decided to walk there to see if I could complete my shopping. 2,000 "No thanks, I'm just looking"s later and my shopping was finally complete. The next task is the hardest…waiting in line at the Post Office to send the gifts! However that can wait for another day. Tonight I shall lock the gates, bring up the drawbridge and watch a DVD, eat popcorn, drink beer and forget Christmas even exists.
Arriving at town, I parked up and went to a chip shop to get some sustenance, however the girl behind the counter asked if it was ok to wait while she cooked up some chips. I declined and said I'd be back later. Here is a tip you can add to your list of life's rules…never say you'll wait for chips in a chip shop as they don't want to keep you waiting too long so they're always underdone and roasting hot as they're right out the fryer.
Outside the comic shop was a ghastly woman on a mobile phone (I think ghastly people undergo some form of operation to have mobile phones transplanted onto their heads) talking about her financial problems in a volume such that anyone in the area could hear. So I pretended to look at some items in the window while I vicariously aided this woman in publicly washing her linen. It seems she was owed some £60 for an electricity bill or other.
Inside the shop a man was already at the counter so I had a browse of the shelves first. Now if you don't buy comics you won't know this, but comic shops are run like no other shop. You don't go in and take things from the shelves…the person who runs the shop has a list of the titles each customer regularly gets and when he gets his stock in he puts any comic on your list into your "file". So when you enter the shop the person running it gets your comics from your file, and you pay for any one-off purchases you may had made that day also. As I was browsing the woman from outside comes in and it appears the man at the counter is her husband. Her voice has not lessened for not being on the phone. She was incredibly loud and recounted a tale to her husband about how someone she knows went to Subway for lunch, and the story involved what they had to eat, with the punch line being "An' guess ‘ow much it was? Eight quid!"
It seems this woman fills her days with quarrels over money and the cost of living. And what was her husband buying? £250 worth of movie memorabilia.
Leaving the comic shop I went to buy some more work shirts so that I don't have to do laundry as often. Two shirts, an' guess ‘ow much? Fifty quid! Annoyed at having to spend so much and wondering where people on benefits buy their clothes, I entered the city centre proper on the hunt for gifts. The streets are always busy at the weekend but now it is nearing Christmas you can barely see 200 yards without your view being blocked by a temporary hut or stall selling this and that. People were, as usual, utterly without agenda and strolled everywhere at 0.5mph while their unruly children ran amok, brandishing rolls of wrapping paper like swords. If a child isn't pushing 99p worth of cardboard tubing into your ribs, someone outside a store is pushing a leaflet into your face, or shaking a bucket full of money, or comforting a crying child. I swear I've never seen so many crying children as I did today.
After telling the 1,000th shop assistant than I was fine and just looking, I still didn't find anything suitable so decided to head home. On the way back to my car I popped by the chip shop but they were now closed. Still, I'd rather have no chips than hard chips that taste like lava.
I actually live quite close to a large town, so I decided to walk there to see if I could complete my shopping. 2,000 "No thanks, I'm just looking"s later and my shopping was finally complete. The next task is the hardest…waiting in line at the Post Office to send the gifts! However that can wait for another day. Tonight I shall lock the gates, bring up the drawbridge and watch a DVD, eat popcorn, drink beer and forget Christmas even exists.
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