Stream of Shattered Conciousness

I woke up this morning with these words in my head. I found them interesting. Or perhaps, this is just the downward slide into psychosis for me.

Sing to me my unic.

The parable of the raven is no more.

Comfort me. I can no longer bear to wash these useless rocks.

I shall dream in the swirls of your song.

Of when the sun used to drink the light from the earth and the earth was washed in darkness.

The holder of the unfocused eye sees no more.

Sing.

Deliriumtree vs. The Real World

No matter the online format there's always an allusion to the "real world" or "real life". I have trouble with this concise division. My waking world is one of ghosts and time unraveling in a slow thread pull. Life has never been short for me. It is long. It aches and groans and is filled with seconds that stretch an eternity. I struggle to fill time, to make it pass faster. Little projects stabilize me, and keep me from going mad.

A question posted by RemitanceGirl and later a blog found here had me thinking in depth on this subject today. An ocean exists between my online and offline personae. I am left stranded no matter which Continent I choose. I took the polls and has this comment to add:

"I had to read this post several times to really grasp what you were saying. In so doing I found myself voting choice 1-completely different. I see who I am online as being the real me, whether I’m on twitter, a flight of the conchords message board, writing email… the online me is the real genuine me. I don’t think of the “real world” me as even being me. I don’t know who or what that person is. I’m like white noise in real life. My hair hangs over my eyes, my hands are clasped tightly to my ribs, and I can go weeks without hearing my own voice even once. But, the me that you speak to is inside there. She’s thinking, dreaming and having conversations with people inside her mind (even though they don’t know it.). That person is trapped. She doesn’t know how to get out. It’s not even shyness. When I’m around other people it’s like thinking in a thick swamp. My thoughts are sludgy and slow. Climbing mount everest seems far easier than carrying on a conversation. I smile and nod a lot. I end up saying yes to opinions I don’t agree with, but I can’t think straight enough to even realize that in the moment. I’m completely mired in this swamp. My brain betrays me and my words are just gone. A blind panic fills my body as I try to answer a simple question. I scramble to find words, but they’re just gone! But, then I come online and it’s dry, flat lands and I can think and run fast in my mental landscape. I can follow the conversations being had. People become something that I can understand and not a rubix cube that I’m constantly turning to try to get all the pieces to line up. I don’t have to guess if someone is happy,sad or angry at me. <-That makes it all clear. I'm calm and suddenly I can think, that foggy barrier that's always there in the real world falls away and I'm no longer stuck inside my head."

My state of existence is neatly summarized in that paragraph. The "real world" is a realm where little is known about me. For many not even my occupation. They simply know I do something at a kennel. If I were to inquire,"What are some musical artists I like?" Many of you would quickly answer "Tori Amos" or "Flight of Conchords." The answer would be a knee jerk reaction, requiring little thought. However, my co-workers, of a full time job I've held for 2 plus years, would be left completely flummoxed. Not for a lack of interest. They did ask. In the beginning, people always attempt to get to know me. My body and mind betray me as stated above. I flood and drown in panic as I search for simple answers. A word, a verb, a noun? They've all fled. I transition into a computer program that's always buffering but never loads. The information simply can't be accessed. My answer ends up something invariably innocuous like "I like a bit of everything." This tidbit offered following the longest of pauses and followed with eye contact and a smile that I had to think about, not simply offer.

Socializing is a theatrical performance for me. I am continually directing in my mind. "Make eye contact, now smile and nod. Too much. Look down at your lap. Okay now back at him. Wait, what was he saying?" The concentration such an act requires leaves me piecing conversation together from fragments and context clues. Subtleties, nuance, the emotion of a voice are all things lost in the fray. The steady concentration required leaves no room for these things, let alone my actual self... I find myself intensely drained by the end of long stints of in person contact requiring solitude to reflect and recharge.

A trademark of Asperger's syndrome is inability to read faces well. Extremely high on the spectrum, I am no exception. I understand obvious cues, such as laughing, tears, and unmistakable anger- such someone punching a wall. Apart from the wildly dramatic I am left guessing. I tend to worry others are mad at me if I can't decipher a face. This exacerbates my taciturn nature and inclination to hide. I remain convinced that no one has ever flirted with me apart from a computer. I am open to the probability that I am merely missing cues. However, it is equally possible that simply no one flirts with someone that essentially a void.

Prior to the internet I had no connection to the outside world. I tried all the things experts suggest in vain. I went to church. I frequented coffee shops. I took classes for years, often with the same people. I manged to escape human bonding completely unscathed every time. I received every piece of puzzling advice. I remember being told "In order to a make a friend, you have to be a friend." When I inquired "How do I do that?" I never received follow up advice only silence or the reply of "Don't you know?" How would I know how to be something never experienced? I felt deeply flawed for not knowing.

At age 21 dial up internet access brought the first glimmer of friendship into my life. The pressure to stage direct and act was suddenly removed. I found myself able to think with astonishing clarity. If there was something I didn't understand, I found I had the courage to ask for clarification. Life online made sense. I was even able to make others laugh. For the first time in my life people were responding to me. They were happy to see me. I was able to learn and be learned about. There were handy emoticons to eliminate all guess work. Actions were suddenly spelled out such as *looks at you puzzled*. I found I was suddenly able to not only express myself, but I was able to run like a gazelle in my mental space. I was free. Liberated.

This glimmer had a shadow side. The online world is transient. It is seen as less real, less important, less tangible, rather than simply another format of communication. The "real world" often takes precedence in the lives of those you depend on for companionship, no matter how understandable, it can become a lonely waiting game at times. People began to enter and exit my life in a parade, often to disappear mysteriously. An account closed, a cessation in email, I turned the blame inward every time. I began to develop a tremendous fear of abandonment. Meeting an online friend in "real life", I found to be a perilous risk. Not for wild stories you read in the media. It became a matter of could I make the transition effectively? Could I be the real me, out loud? At times, I succeeded. It was easy and fulfilling when it all clicked. At other times I miserably disappointed those I met. My friend left with a feeling of "Where did you go?" The friendship would end soon after. What is liberating and confidence building can also be damaging and senselessly hurtful. I sometimes find myself wondering if the people I consider friends see me as expendable on some level. If I were to shut "Deliriumtree" down in all her forms. Would I be missed or simply shrugged off? People drift away from online venues constantly. It is considered the norm, to me it is sudden and jarring. A hole is torn from my fabric of my world and I am left reeling. I have people I still mourn, years later. Having a social life that exists solely in cyberspace carries a heavy weight. If I let that weight settle, the emptiness is staggering. I become all too aware that I am one of the few people who has never needed a cell phone. Why do I need to pay a monthly bill so the phone can not ring when I'm out as well as home? The temptation to dwell on such things can never be heeded.

Perhaps, it is simply a matter of quality of friends. The circle of my online friends has transitioned in the past few years. My fotc fangirls are the fiercely supportive family I have never had. Twitter is full of amazing souls who never cease to provide me with wonderful companionship, inspiration and giggles. I even have had a best friend for over a year. Someone I can tell anything to, who never judges me, but also doesn't fail to tell me when I'm wrong as well. I am making the gamble of meeting him for the first time in October. A high risk for the longest friendship I have ever had, but my hopes are high that it will be well worth it. I have even been told that I'm sexy. Me! Perhaps, it was simply a matter of finding not just people online, but the right people. There's hope for me yet.

Love and the Blasphemy

I shared this letter with a friend a while back as it's the perfect example of the sort of mail I receive from family on a daily basis.

Godless Hell Bound Whore,

Do you think that you are a basically good person? If you believe in your heart that you or anyone else is, by nature, basically good, then you have believed a Lie. Do you believe, as the American Declaration of Independence proclaims, that “... all men are endowed by the Creator with certain inalienable rights, and among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?” If you do, then you are wrong. The Bible teaches that we have no “rights,” because all of our so-called righteousness is like filthy, stinking rags compared to the true righteousness of the one, true G-d (cf. Isaiah 64:6). Everything that you have is a gift from G-d - not because you deserve it. What you deserve is to go to Hell because of your sinful pride and rebellion against our L-rd and His ways.

Well I love you

At some point in my life the words I love you became no more than a catch phrase used to end a familial conversation. Merely prelude and an afterthought to speech tinged with venom. I began to flinch visibly at the utterance of those words. Until one day, I ceased to react at all. I could never succumb to the idea that I should love someone simply due to random similarities in a few strands of DNA. It was expected and the unattainably of such a request marked me as impaired in my families eyes. I have often teetered on the knifes edge of instability wondering if they were right. I'm not sure I am capable of love.

I watch people's slow waltz with heartache. I unravel their intense longing with a sort of fascination. In my eyes, I see them chasing a tenuous fallacy built of shadow and whimsy. Yet, it is the one myth everyone believes. Everyone but me. I feel like something integral is fractured in my mind. I don't seek love. I flee from it. It is but a dusty dream I held as a little girl. A small glimmer of childlike hope that a family would hold her and love her. At some point, that dream shattered leaving me fragmented in a way I can not repair. I don't even wish to. Not to say I don't care for the beings drifting through my world. I care very much. I can't help but wonder if I'm somehow cheating them. My emotional expanse borders many limitations and is framed by impenetrable brick walls. Love languishes in mystery amongst the chaos of my mind, to remain an unsurprising blemish in my mental landscape. Much of life seems a quietly uttered secret, I simply can not hear. Why should love be any different? Perhaps, I simply held it too tightly. Or perhaps, as I suspect, it is simply not real.

Cars should run on Urine.

I was window shopping in Victoria's secret today and the best idea ever hit me! Cars should run on urine! Doing my best impression of a 80 year old speedwalker, I mused on this thought while enjoying a succulent, air conditioned work out. I began to think of anatomy and how men are naturally built to fill up a gas tank. Basically, they have a handy dandy hose between their legs. Yet, just how much urine would it take to run an average vehicle? How might people best get from one place to another? The most likely solution seemed to be polyandry. Women should acquire a harem of men so they might travel about freely. It was pointed out to me today on twitter that there are devices that allow a woman to pee standing up. This seemed like a good alternative for women who either do not wish to have a harem or simply need to add more pee in a pinch. We will all have to drink more fluids. This is a good thing. I wonder why the potential for this idea as an alternative fuel has not been looked into? Everyone needs to pee. Let's put it to good use! Get busy science! Yes, I do realize I'm insane. But, do it anyway!

Blog Therapy: There will be more

There are times in my life when I look at the cuts on my legs...

And the bruises..

And I find myself wondering,"What is this all for? What do I have to show for all this?"

I spend so much of my life simply waiting... For it to get better. Others seem to fly in easy circles around my dreams, consuming heavily the delights. I simply watch. I feel my dreams shatter as I watch. I need to stop watching. I know deep down it can't be as easy as it looks. But, it looks so very easy.

I hatch up crazy schemes at times. Thinking this...this is the key. If I do this, try this, do more dogs.. It will get better. I can have things too. I dream too big and I crash. I crash so hard. It's so hard to reassemble myself when I do.

There are times when my only thought is... "I can't. I just fucking can't do this anymore. I won't! I'll hang myself from a tree if I have to go on like this. I just won't!"

But, I do. I always do. I move numbly making my legs work until they want to walk on their own.

I'm not envious in a text book way. A man I adore can have a thousand women. That is fine. I've lost my taste for those sort of relationships anyways. Finding friendship, is far more important to me than finding romance. It's people's lives, the places they visit, the things they do and can have. Those are the things I find myself growing jealous of. I wish for my life to have so much more in it. Just for there to be more.

I have to tell myself over and over there will be more. There will be more. Patience it's coming. I have to believe, because if I stop then there's nothing left. That tenuous belief is the string I am clinging to in my fragile web.

It's hard when that belief gets tested. Today I found myself fidgeting in blind panic for more than 15 minutes, because there were children near the part of the playground equipment I do pull ups on. I couldn't make myself go over there. I left feeling like a failure. Hating myself. Hating that I was so terrified that mere children would talk to me. Ask me what I was doing. I was shaking and I hated myself more for that.

I have to believe there will be a day when I can walk up and continue my work out routine despite the presence of others. That I won't be so afraid. That my main emotion will be happiness instead of constant choking fear. And that doors will open for me. That life will seem to have purpose and not just sometimes when my email box is full and I'm receiving a lot of tweets. My phone will ring. I'll have places to go, people to see, things to do. There will be more. There just will be.

Acceptance

Spending a bit of time thinking about my blog yesterday. It's easy to focus on the places and events that make us feel squeamish in life, where we feel we just don't fit in for whatever reason. We don't have the right clothes, the right life style, the right thoughts, we're too different, we don't have enough money etc. There are plenty of these places in life. That feeling of not being enough is often more of an internalized thing than a reality. True shunnings are thankfully rare once out of high school. Yet, our self inflicted feelings of displacement linger and nag until we overcome them or flee the place causing our distress. But, what about the people and places that accept us? The people and places that make it easy for us. Blissful? Once and a while I feel the need for an outpouring of gratitude and this is one of those days.

I have a friend that listens and accepts me quirks and all. I can't seem to freak him out. I can just be me. He sees all that I am and builds me up. Makes me believe I'm wonderful, beautiful, creative, intelligent and awesome. That's a tremendous thing. To be encouraged and accepted for who you are. To have someone support you. That doesn't put your choices in life down, even though others have. Is instead there for you in what way they can be. It's more like a dream of friendship. Only, I am blessed to have this dream be real. It's more than I can wrap my mind around sometimes.

I have a board full of lovely women unified by music. These women have taught me to see the joy in life. I don't believe any of us fit a mold. Some of us are nerds, perhaps. I feel completely at home amongst them, something I have very rarely felt with other women and only in brief moments. With these girls I feel at home always. We encourage each other and root each other on. They are like the family I wish I had. They've given me back the childhood stolen from me by abusive relatives and dared me to dream again, to laugh and play.

I have writers in my life. Amazing expressive souls who encourage me and provide me a place in their world. One of which took the time to email with me, answer some questions. A dialog I still think on to this day and gained much from. Another which has begun an online friendship with me. He's one of those people who has an odd sunshine effect on my demeanor. He's also very encouraging and sees me as "strong." A word I have never before associated with myself.

The thread that runs amongst these people is that they are all very unique, caring individuals. It could be said that everyone has something about them that makes them special. But, I don't believe that to be true. Some people just fucking suck quite frankly. The best people in life just don't fit in boxes. These people direct us and put our focus on what is real. When all is dark we have lost sight of what is true. Our memory has slipped. People who accept us help put us back in place. Through them we realize we're worth caring about and dare we say it pretty neat.

Thank you to all the accepting wonderful people in my life. I am so happy to have met you.

Wanted: Travel Guru

For the last year I have been saving for a trip. Originally, this trip was to be fotc related. Fotc announced their tour much sooner than I expected. So my dream fell by the wayside mostly due to budget and a crisis at work. The person I was taking to the concert became a friend to me of sorts. The best friend I've ever had really. So I rebounded very fast when my fotc dreams were not to be realized. The goal of taking the trip shifted to meeting my friend. Now I'm unsure if I still have a friend. If this is true, there's really nothing for me in this trip.

However, being Aspie I am often wrong in regards to people. If it happens I am not best friendless. I have a plea.

I need a travel guru. I need someone to be the brain I do not possess in this regard. You will be dealing with a multitude of questions and anxieties. Overall your job is to guide me. Oh why put a pretty bow on it? I flat out need someone to take charge and tell me what to do. Make me your bitch! Being told what to do provides an odd comforting solace to me. I have not traveled. Not alone. I once boarded a plane but arrangements were made prior for me. Someone picked me up at the airport and drove me around. I had a couch in a home to crash on. It was all taken care of for me. This was however 15 years ago. Since being on my own I have not traveled further than my car has taken me. I have never made a hotel reservation, flight reservation...etc. I have no idea how one gets from the airport to a hotel. Bus? Walk? Hitchhike? Someone told me you can't bring shampoo on planes? Why? How do I wash my hair? Can my laptop come with me? I don't have a cell phone. How do I communicate with people if my laptop can't come. Clueless does not even describe me. Even if this trip does not happen. Even if I have lost my friend. This is knowledge I need to have as there are others I'd like to one day visit. DM me on twitter if interested. You will have your hands full! I am a neurotic mess. See neuroti-ca blog.