Mornings are hard for me.

There is a lot of frustration for me in the mornings. Mum sleeps until late in the morning, and I need to be quiet and refrain from making noise which could wake her. I’m also struggling with boredom at that time because I’m not much of a morning person, and because I don’t handle boredom well. So, I’m looking for ways to distract myself from smoking throughout those hours between when I’ve woken up, and when mum gets out of bed.

It reminds me of prison in a way. During the morning we would be locked down for a period of time before typically being let out of our cells for breakfast and to do what we liked before getting outdoor privaleges. It could be frustrating to be stuck inside a cell. There was so little to do in there. I hate tv, don’t really get into music enough to enjoy the radio station on the tv, and writing and reading had become my only allies. Of a morning, I would read, shower, make a cuppa, and then read some more before the door was unlocked.

This morning, I couldn’t find the writing magazine I’ve been reading through and working through the writing prompts. It was in my backpack next to this keyboard. I’d checked my backpack as well but didn’t find it the first time around. I ended up smoking a lot of cigarettes, until I found it – on a subsequent check through. The writer of the previous article I read in it talked about goal setting using the SMART method; Specific, measurable, attainable, realistic, and time-bound. Interestingly, I use this method occasionally but never for writing projects. I suppose I like to keep myself free for other pursuits and don’t like being tied down to one project for too long.

At least this avoidance to serious work is only a recently developed habit. I’ve been working in short bursts because of the nature of prison life, and my time spent away from computing/and the internet, working for prolonged periods makes me weary and I get a little anxiety over the things I could be doing instead. For example, I like to get all my washing done, have my bed made, and be freshly showered, before I settle down to writing. And that’s not usually until I’ve had several cups of tea or coffee, something small to eat (something I haven’t been doing lately is eating breakfast), and be without any jobs to do. I write best during my more active waking hours. Sometimes this is late at night, other times it could be during the middle of the day or the afternoon.

I’m going to work on my novel a bit more today. I haven’t touched it for several days and have developed a direction for the story to progress in. I’m still lacking a good follow up and aren’t set on my current direction but being that it’s the first draft and this issue is holding up progress, I might as well proceed and repair it later, if need be. Here goes nothing, wish me well!

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Mornings are hard for me.

Keith

Keith is an exceptional man. Self realized, independent, a survivor. His knowledge of the bush became an interest of mine – as I came from the city. I found so much interest in what I found out about the wildlife, and nature that I started studying about different things on my own. It was Keith’s enthusiam which also passed on to me. That and boundless wisdom which only my feeble attempts at comprehending could hope to muster the same result myself one day.

I looked upon Kieth like I would my own father, had I one of my own to look to. He even raised me like I was his son. We were great together. He kept busy which kept me on my toes in a lot of ways. Keith is good at doing that to a person, and I admire him for that. He would say that it keeps a person going. That’s his round about way of talking about the spice of variety in life.

Keith can be agressive at times of frustration too. Sometimes we’ve encountered problems (sometimes through my own fault) where he would blow a gasket with hissing and urghing sounds. Then I’ve seen far more instances where his patience has been astounding. He isn’t naturally adversarial though. I know he certainly isn’t that way with people who owe him money, as he’s lent me a fair sum more than once. The only proviso was that he got it all back in one payment – the same way he lent it to you. I think that’s a good policy.

Keith showed me how adults have a good time. He also showed me how to drink. I became an alcoholic for a while there but I eventually realized it wasn’t helping me as much as I once liked to believe it did (with my sleeping anyway). Moreover, he showed me how to conduct myself correctly while drinking. Some of that I let go of, as I stopped drinking but since have found it still applies while being around other drinkers, so I’m thankful for his instruction. I always paid the best attention to everything he said and he spoke so sparingly at times that I found myself trying to learn shorthand for speech. His short deep comments were always appreciated though, regardless of whether you actually heard what was said. I suppose I have to be blunt in my approach at describing him as an animal. I mean that in the best of the term’s senses.

Keith also has an enormous pain threshhold. I once watched him skin a black pig in water that was 87 degrees celcius. It made the pig come out of the water white! A couple of times he pulled his reddened hands from the steaming water to recover from the heat of them being submerged for so long. The entire pig had to be skinned beneath the surface, after all. He’s also very strong. Especially in his forearms and wrists. He has a formiddable grip. I’m sure he could break my hand in its vice like embrace. I say embrace because he has such large hands on account of being so tall. He has an ectomorph frame but with a bit of a pot belly.

Keith

Looking for a course anywhere…

I’m interested in learning Arabic and it happens that I’ve given notice to move out of this place I’m sharing with my Mum. I had an offer, from my mate, Ben to move in with him for a while. I lost contact with him when I left my phone on a train one night. I might need to surprise visit him one day, because he isn’t listed in directories. Anyways, I’m interested in learning Arabic and as I recall the main areas where it’s offered in university are based in New South Wales. I’m hoping I won’t need to leave Victoria, though.

Victorian car registration is the most affordable and so being based in Victoria not only means I can always drive to visit the people I care about, but also makes for a more financially sustainable lifestyle. Although I don’t like the colder climate of Victoria, and officially say that I hate winter temperatures. I can’t wear enough clothing to weather it and find myself unable to sit still for prolonged periods. This causes my writing to suffer.

Yet again, I haven’t contributed to my first draft of the autobiography/self-help book for people on the spectrum. I’ve been working through various issues, and again one of them is my smoking habit. I tried to quit again the other day but found myself allowing one here and there, until I was finally smoking again. Another has to do with my tendency to convey thoughts which haven’t been thought out properly. For one thing, being spontaneous doesn’t always lead to the most intelligable communication and for another it shows that I need to foster better thinking habits regarding what I say to others.

Many people with Asperger’s Syndrome are considered to be “brutally honest” with not only themselves and others but with innanimate objects. This contrasts with some other expressions of the syndrome such as treating innanimate objects as thinking-feeling beings, and again with another expression, a lack in imagination abilities. The outward symptoms of Asperger’s seem to conflict and be in contrast or at such variance so as to make no logical sense in being grouped together other than being based on psychological capacities themselves. I suppose, that the issues at cause from the physical condition, itself, creates many problems which are often at odds with one another. This means there are many more areas which need working on for a person with this condition than there would be (or at least to the degree of required effort) lesser for those unafflicted.

I think this is where I’m at with dealing with my diagnosis: I’m now willing to continue putting in the amount of work I grew up putting in (so it’s nothing new), but for a long while leading up to this point of resolution, in fact, ever since I first was diagnosed, I hadn’t been willing to try anymore. I just wanted to give up on life and hated myself for my inadequacies. Now I figure I can make something of my self by going back to study. I’m interested in psychology (which I might just take up online again), writing and editing, which is offered at TAFE in Bendigo – which is an ideal location and would suit me well for a new place of residence, and I’d like to learn another language. At the moment I think Arabic would be beneficial considering the state of the world and how things have become in countries where Muslims are taking over. I think it would be a distinct advantage to understand their language and culture (and even history – anything).

That’s it for now. I’m about to head out to the post office to pick up one of my recent purchases which has arrived.

Looking for a course anywhere…

Long time, no see!

Dear readers, as you might have read in my last blog entry: I’ve realised that I have an aversion to others’ reading my unpolished/raw material. Well, it had taken me several days to realise the source of the hold up on my previously daily (sometimes more), blog entries; since then, I’ve spent several days without blogging again. So, you might wonder: “why, if I understand that much about my blogging activity, haven’t I blogged for yet again another several days – unless my blog being public isn’t the source of my reluctance to share openly here. The truth is that I needed to come to terms with expressing myself in a public sphere such as this – emotionally. This difficulty is greater for me than that of the neuro-typical person, largely because I’m emotionally underdeveloped on account of being on the autism spectrum. This issue in itself is also a source of emotional contension. I think this means I’m a conflicted individual.

Well, that’s all for now. Thanks and I hope you enjoyed reading 🙂

Long time, no see!

The source of my writer’s block.

I think I’ve discovered the main source for my writer’s block and it happens to be related to my procrastination points. It’s exposure. I almost don’t want my writing to be read by others. At least my raw material, such as the kind in blogs. It’s me all over and I don’t have a response from my audience, you. I like that talking to you is like having an eternal ear but I need some of the sort of feedback you get from a proper dialogue. Having my thoughts and opinions in the open from the get-go seems like I’m doing myself an injustice.

On the other hand, the freedom to express myself over rides the need for privacy and so I submit to posting this blog here today. My reluctance to blog stems from my new acquaintance taking an interest in my writing which led me to sharing my blog’s location. I do need an audience. I suppose I wasn’t expecting it to be so daunting. I just want my writing to be its best. And I’m a perfectionist.

I’m on the verge of quitting weed which is awesome. I just have the ciggies to contend with because I’ve been slipping up with smoking them more than with weed lately and I’m starting to smoke more than I had been while cutting back. This is because I struggle with mornings. Typically, I don’t know what to do with myself while mum is still asleep from working night shifts, and I become restless until I’m doing something like enjoying a cuppa with a cigarette. It’s difficult to give that up without something to replace it.

I’ve also identified with other writer’s who claim their fear of performance stems from some attempt to produce work of comparible quality to previous work. I’ve found that I harbour some unrealistic associations in comparing previous work to my work in progress. Most of the time they need to be looked at as separate pieces of work. Sometimes in making progress within my work in progress, I wonder whether my next step in writing material is going to ruin my work by disrupting flow, voice, setting, etc and then either contribute very little or nothing at all – until I feel the content is “right” to continue my book. Sometimes I just feel lazy and don’t want to work on it. I feel that way toward reading sometimes too. The effort can seem wasted on writing, and I feel impacted in this way to a greater extent, having lost all my previous work bar one short story which was recently published. I’m given hope by having my work out there on the market but I’m also a little hindered by fear. I’m rusty as a writer and need to get back into that mood I was in when I got so much enjoyment out of writing that I would find my thoughts leaning towards it throughout my days.

Take care.

The source of my writer’s block.

Outlook let me down once again

Fuck Outlook! I’m sick of writing emails more than once! It’s like the app needs updating but I’m too used to using the convenient icon to open it but because outlook is lacking its update the email I’ve written not only fails to send but fails to store the message in drafts. This isn’t the first time this has happened and I’m sick of it. I might get my gmail account unlocked and use that instead because this is ridiculous!!

Outlook let me down once again

I’ve been a cheeky bloggist!

I’ve talked about my habits, here. I’ve also talked about Charles. I think I’m just concerned and jovial regarding his paranoia. I find it funny because I’ve been through it myself, and so have many other smokers. I think he’s avoided reading my blog because it causes him some discomfort. I think it’s a means of desensitising him by exposing him to natural levels of exposure which he doesn’t normally permit. In this case the worst case scenario is that he stops associating with me which would be a shame so I’ve decided to desist with my blogs regarding him.

There’s plenty I’ve yet to blog about, and I feel like today is a good time to blog a little about my eccentric teenage years. I was in early high school and happened to meet some witches. I picked up some of the ideology over the years of knowing them. I believed in all sorts of esoterica and practiced Wicca with my new found friends, and others who I’d met through them. All was well and I was on my way to becoming an adapt, as they say.

It was in my later teens, this assoication became toxic for me. One of the two friends I’d made in these witches was infatuated with me and more than once it proved to get out of control of the person. One day I was drugged and they had their way with me but I couldn’t remember enough details for many years after that to know what had happened. I suffered a psychosis a few days later and moved to a completely different area. It was a place I couldn’t skate, didn’t have my associations with drugs anymore…. it was a hard hitting change for me, as skating was my passion. I even had a small time sponsorship by Surf Shack.

I miss skating a great deal. And I can’t return to it because I’ve acquired injuries which prevent me from doing much of anything strenuous or demanding. I hate this about my condition right now. I want to do things as I feel like doing them and not need to concern myself over my shoulder or hip. The former dislocates frequently, while the latter has a constantly depleting supply of ligaments, as they tear when I do the simplest things – such as when I sneeze. One day I won’t be able to walk using that leg, at least if I don’t manage to avoid tearing ligaments which I can’t seem to stop happening completely.

I’m fortunate to have had a previously existing interest in English and writing. I remember teaching myself to type out of a typing manual my mother owned. I used an old 486 pentium without internet connection. I would play mine sweeper for the best times, and write out lines from the text book. By the end I could type. It was a mechanical movement but I could do without any errors. I loved it. It’s just really unfortunate that I lost my writing to theives.

I’ve been a cheeky bloggist!