I’ve not rambled in a while. I’m sure I’ve said that before as an opener though, but what the hell, it’s Sunday night and I’ve got work tomorrow so I don’t really care. That and I’m tired. I had a lot of sleep earlier and I’m still tired.

Energy: I do lack energy. I feel like I always have done. I’m turning to the only things I know to change which are food and a necessity for exercise. I don’t know what to eat. I just know I need to change it. My opinions on foods are a little small-minded because I know what I like, so why change? That coupled with very little ability to change habits. Of course I’m about to contradict myself and say “I will change my habits”. Strawberries? No I won’t touch them I don’t like the texture. Bananas? I’ve never eaten a banana in my life. Apples? I hadn’t eaten a whole one, minus the core of course, since I moved to Brighton a few years ago. I’m not a huge fan but I can force them down as long as they don’t have the label on. I cannot go near an apple or any other kind of fruit if it’s had a label on. I haven’t the faintest idea why. So, and maybe I’ll document my journey…God…”my journey”…sounds pretentious doesn’t it. Maybe I’ll log my dietary changes and note their effects. I won’t though will I. It’d be boring for both of us, but I want some kind of log so I know what I’m doing.

Exercise is another thing. I keep looking at things on Amazon that I could use. I’ve wanted a chin-up bar for years but you can do a lot without any equipment. Press-ups are great for you. Cardio I will soon get from my VR games.

Disconnection: This has a lot to do with my lacking energy but I do wonder if there’s more to it. I can’t find myself if I can barely feel like I’m in the same room as other people. When I was a child I threw, at my young neighbours’ request, a rock into the air and it hit my head. I recall crying a lot from the dining room. I didn’t crack my head open and there were no doctors involved, although I do recall my mother giving me a Mars bar in order to sooth the pain. Anyway I have questioned whether that experience has anything to do with my stupid mind.

I’ve talked to people and said that I struggle at work because I just don’t care about the work. That’s not true, though. I care about the work because it keeps me occupied during the day. I care about the work because of the satisfaction I get from it. It’s all selfish for me, but it keeps me going. So why in the name of hell can’t I hear what people are saying to me? Why can’t I follow instructions? I know the base level explanation; “It’s because you can’t follow sentences when they’re spoken Ash. Come to that, you struggle with written information as well” I am not convinced I don’t have a real need to go back to the doctor’s over that failed Asperger’s test but I’ll not bemoan it. We all have homes to go home to and I know we’d all like to do that before Christmas.

Maybe it’s purely depression. An underlying depression that nobody, including me, sees. But then, a major part of my depression is not having any energy to begin with. I don’t know if I am even depressed! I just get down because I never feel like I’m progressing or doing the things that “normal” people do. Or have done. Christ knows I’ve got a ways to catch up with most twenty-year-olds, let alone people my age.

Confidence: I really lack this. I think this has something to do with disconnection. I have found that I’m so painfully shy, or nervous, or whatever, that my way of dealing with it is to stop caring. To allow the world to pass me by because I know I can’t deal with things like others. Need to do a presentation? Pretend you despise the people watching. That way it doesn’t matter if you screw up. That’s an area of disassociation. I block people out of my mind and consciously blur my vision so I don’t see them as I walk down the street. If they’re not there they can’t hurt me. I end up being rude to people that way though and it’s never intentional. I don’t want to be me. I don’t like me. The me I have is so disassociated with things that he doesn’t even know who he’s supposed to be let alone who he is. But then, can anyone who analyses the sense of self ever really have any self?

Importance: Some things have to be precise with me. Which I think is another reason I’ve let go of things. I can’t keep up. I want an immaculate space all the time. If the space between the above colon and the capital letter isn’t in non-bold font it bothers me. But really. Who gives a shit? I don’t but something pushes me to. They’re important to some part of me and I can’t explain it.

Paranoia: I’ve recently moved. Now I’ve had serious issues with neighbours in the past which felt like it only validated my fears of people. I’ve had flats. The first one I have written about. Shouty man was the name I gave him because he was always shouting. I’m the kind of guy who closes all his blinds because all he was used to at that point of his life, around thirty, was the house he grew up in from the age of ten in Somerset. I basically lived in my bedroom drinking more than anyone ever should and hiding. Probably from myself. I don’t know if it’s that. I always close the blinds or curtains. Cringing. Cringing when I hear the neighbours from above, nice though they may be and when I moved in here I felt that I may have come across Shouty Man Number Two.

I have no reason at all to think he’s malicious, but of course my brain turns any vocals into malicious words as I hear him. He shouts, he almost sounds like he’s coughing. “Well he probably is!” I hear you cry. It may be mild Tourette’s. It’s more than that. Which is why I was astounded when I first moved in. “Not again!” Or “How can the same shit happen to the same guy thrice?!”

Him aside. Putting him to one side. It’s hard being paranoid. Every room I go into sometimes I feel like I’m being talked about in my own flat. I can hear the neighbours excrete which isn’t nice either. I’ve just had enough. I can’t shower either which is a pain in the tits. There’s water coming out of it but the pressure is so low you couldn’t stand under it and expect a proper shower. I’m just moaning now but it’s a big thing is a shower.

I am paranoid, because I can hear my neighbours so clearly, that they too can hear me. That they are driven mad by my tumble drier which I used three times today. Should I just hang things up? Is that what people do?

Anxiety: I get anxious. No I don’t. I feel anxious most of the time. I don’t know why. Maybe I don’t feel safe through past experiences? No. That is definitely true. I am going out relatively comfortably now, though. And that’s a change. A big one. I find myself thinking “What is the neighbour saying about me?! What have I done?! Are they telling everyone else that I’m a weirdo!? Maybe I am a weirdo!?!” I cannot get my head around being human in the same ways that everybody I’ve ever met seems to have done and it sends me into a spiral.

I also don’t think nicotine is helping me. I am massively hooked to vaping and smoking and I think that maybe that causes issues. But I don’t know. I mean, yes they’re killing themselves, but most people seem to be fine as smokers at my age. Or a lot older.

Sometimes, though, and it’s probably due to tiredness, I feel like I live in my own subconscious. My best writing, wherever I’ve done it and whatever for, has been largely effortless because I don’t feel like it’s me really. My fingers move and the words come. Opposing order. I think that’s why I like automatic writing so much. I am not truly writing ever. This is just not-thought-out-garbage what you’re reading here. I think if I were to try and plan what I was going to put down, it would be far too constrained.

The living room in my new flat is looking better. It won’t feel like home. It’s in a block. But I’m trying. I hate blocks so much but I am trying. Forcing myself to unpack, little by little. Reminding myself that it’s not forever. For what it is, it’s alright, and sometimes I see the positives. I’m close to the beach and I’ve got someone driving me to work every day. I am lucky in many ways. Someone once said to me that it’s good to give thanks. Testicles I say. What is there to be grateful for? I’m grateful for the friends I’ve got. Even for my family who drive me a little crazy. I’m grateful for who I am despite wanting to change who I am. This insane and useless open-mindedness is no good for anyone, but maybe I can fix me. Maybe if I eat differently. Maybe if I sleep more. It’s not all about changing who I am, it’s finding the energy to live as I am if need be. It’s energy I am struggling with and have done for decades. Maybe I’ll find a diet plan and do that? I could certainly lose a couple of stone.

Today. I am grateful for today. I went with a friend to see a music shop and I always find those inspiring. I have friends and I am grateful.

One of the autism symptoms, hence the auto part, is preferring to be alone. I do want friends, I see people happy outside with friends, but I can only do so much. That and because I’m so self-conscious and fearful of the world I’m sure I often seem self-centred because my mind and body are in fight or flight mode most of the time. Is that bollocks? I don’t know. Nobody’s ever given a proper comparison between definitions of different people’s perceptions of fight or flight.

I’ve had a very unhealthy dinner. I must do a shop. I’m still eating the crap I bought when I got here.

I could do with a cat friend.

But now I sleep. Hopefully lucidly for the next seven hours so I can fly.


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Dutch Steak

Dutch Steak


A coder, a rambler...and now wondering if maybe design and actual art, very different, should form my future...