Hello there, Denizens of the internet, and other actual people who are crazy enough to stick around. (rambling ahead, warning you now.)
How long has it been, anyway? I can’t seem to keep track of time. And after all, it doesn’t really matter if I post or not, in the end. I’ve written some really stupid stuff, scared people away, both in real life and on the internet. And in the end, All of it is just writing on the walls, is it not? All just so much noise. I guess that sounds kinda depressing, doesn’t it? Probably. But does that make it any less true? I don’t mind on some level, but the feeling gets under my skin.
I’m not a kid anymore, or so I’m told. I’ve reached the rather ripe age of 21, and apparently that’s the golden number you should be happy about. forever 21 and all that.
Society tells me I need to find employment (or study if I even want the right to eat! (are you serious?).. At the minute I have to shake my head in disbelief. Could I do some of these things? Probably. On paper, anyway. See, the thing Is that I’m really, really bad at actually bringing my abilities to bear and making use of them (I struggle with sequencing). And my goodness, the words that come out of my mouth sometimes! And how little they have to do with what I meant! That also applies to my writing, albeit to a far lesser degree. But sometimes I just throw in what I call “ready baked sentences” I’ve heard before and fit them together like a bizarre jigsaws puzzle. Like the phrases: “you know who you are” or: “with that being said” and any number of other forms of pre-built sentences. Oh, and I can seem angry when I’m not. And can be angry without realizing it? Okay, forget I mentioned it. So sorry about that! You know, I while back I realized that I was without realizing it trying to communicate using telepathy all the time, much to my amusement. Ah… If only people could listen. It’s all so clear in my head, all this pictures and flashing images. Words… are clumsy things.
I feel like I’m stuck, in mud. Trapped in my own ways. Never erring from the path, I walk another way. Like a watchful deity I stand, and the world goes on. unerring, uncaring. A great procession heading towards the gods of progress. Heaven help those trampled along the way. It saddens me greatly. So many of us have gifts and talents that if nurtured and accepted, could do many things for the world. And the same could be said of so many others. So maybe some of us are no good for stacking shelves? Or washing dishes and talking to customers? Maybe we live in a world of our own?
Maybe we can indulge in strange obsessions and bizarre delusions? But where are the people wondering why we are doing things the way we do them and coming up with better ways? Who is at the helm of this train? or have we run amok? I’m someone like that. And If I was able to use my insights in that sort of manner, thing of the benefits! I have sequencing problems. That might seem like a bad thing, But it also means that I organize my tasks in a way that is hyper efficient and intuitive. I struggle bizzare things like turning 90 degree angles when walking, or finding a way to activate my muscles when I wake up in the morning. People think I’m being lazy, or making stupid excuses. Sometimes though I just can’t get my muscles to do the things I want them to do.
I can feel them, just out of reach. Like my body is a sack of meat with strings. *Sigh* I just googled this and apparently there is a name for it: DYSPRAXIA. Mind you, I’ve had occupational therapy among other things, so I can function. I’m just tired of people telling me how normal I am. Because I struggle. I really do. Just because I’ve invented ways of coping has nothing to do with that. Can’t use a big spoon properly? I use a teaspoon instead. Problem solved. My advice to anyone who is ‘strange’ is to stop trying to make yourself normal. I don’t sit in chairs properly, either. But that doesn’t matter! Do what works for you, as trite as it sounds.
Because I don’t know what I’m doing. Heck, even the theme on this blog is pretty lousy. Never even finished setting up the site. My attention waned, and I just gave up. People wonder why people with Aspergers end up depressed? Hell, it’s like living on an alien planet. It’s why I got so infatuated with fantasy and researching ancient history, and all the rest of it. All I ever wanted was a place to feel like I belong. I’ve hidden behind a mask of anonymity because I hate my body, and to an extent myself as well. I’m so intense, and alien.
I never stopped to ask what would happen when I found a time when nothing sat upon my pedestal. people tried so hard to fix people and maybe they should have wondered what would be left at the end? always having a go at me for my ‘weekly’ obsessions. (the news and pop culture isn’t like that?) What happens when nothing is left? What am I now? I’m just plain bored. (though I’m writing a little story, so watch out. It might suck, it might be good. It’s a giant amalgamation of my feelings that I probably shouldn’t be sharing.