Naked (NSFW)

I do so despise how long it's getting between these posts. A lot of these articles are quite difficult for me to write, and I often like to make sure they are perfect, but I should be able to pump them out faster. What I want to talk about today won't be for everyone, I'm also going to include a video clip with full nudity in it, so anyone under the legal age or who would find such things offensive, please stop reading now. I won't take any responsibility for your state of mind if you continue beyond this point, you have been warned.

Seriously adult discussions about body image, nudity, sex and the like to follow, including images of full male nudity. Please do not continue if you would find such things offensive or if you intend to take them as pornographic. This article is not intended to sexually please or titillate.

Right, now that that is out of the way, let's get into the nitty gritty of things. A few years ago I wrote a song called Naked. It was about a lot of things. On the surface, it was about being comfortable with yourself and who you are, but it also dealt with being comfortable with what you look like and being sure of yourself and not surrounding yourself with people who detract from you. It's always been a particular favourite of mine and one I have done many different versions of. The original still remains my favourite as it is very naked itself. In fact, I recorded the whole thing naked, to truly capture the effect. The vocals are rough, the guitar is slightly out of tune, and the recording quality is not the greatest, but I feel it is the definitive version of this song as it captures all the song itself is trying to say.

I've never had a problem with nudity, myself or others. That is not to say I am confident in my body, I'm not. But I feel most comfortable when I shed my clothes. I sleep naked and at times when I am by myself I will often sit naked reading, or listening to music, or composing or recording. I find that stripped of the artificial confines of clothes, I am at my most raw and vulnerable, but also most creative. I am not a very sexually attractive person. I'm alright looking, I have nice features, but I'm overweight and rather average looking, even at my fittest. I am no Gerard Butler, that's for sure, but once I shed this weight at least I will feel attractive on the outside as well as the in. I'm glad I don't feel completely comfortable with how I am. It gives me the motivation to want to change and look after myself, to want carve out my true self from inside this soft, protective cover.

Because it is a cover, another way of hiding myself from the world. The weight prohibits people getting to close to me, or becoming attracted to me. It prohibits intimacy and for a time, that was what I wanted. It was just one more wall between me and society. But now I am ready to lose that wall. It's going to be a hard journey, but by April next year I want to be half the man I am now, and twice the man I am now.

I mentioned in my last article some of the reasons that drew me to audition for the play. Another was my weight. I new if I got a role, I would have to become physically fit to do it, especially if the role was a Musketeer. Even so, I do not wish to be the portly King. I want to look young and attractive. Also, there is a complicated dance scene that will be hard enough without the extra kilos weighing me down.

So this brings me around at last to the video I mentioned. This is not something I want to upload for general viewing, as it is a deeply personal statement that I worry will be misconstrued. This was filmed with the barest of materials, a low quality camera and little else. No script, no plan, just pure improvisation. I wanted the nakedness to come not just from the physical, but from every aspect of the video. I've degraded it even further with some basic effects, to preserve my dignity slightly. I briefly considered leaving it as is, but the black and white makes things even more bare and harsh. The other obvious reason I haven't uploaded this for general viewing is the fact that I am completely naked throughout this video. This is not intended to be sexual, or pornographic. The nudity is meant to be a statement on vulnerability, not sex. (also, no one wants their family stumbling onto naked videos of you on the net). I know in my heart this will be misunderstood by a lot of people, but this is not for them. It's for those who will understand what I am trying to say. Hopefully, there are some of you out there. And for you, I've included the video below. Please, if you feel the need to share, do so with others who will appreciate it for what it is, and not as a tool of insult or mockery. If you feel the need to comment, please do so. I hope it does breed discussion of an intelligent level. Anyway, here it is. Consider yourself Aspergified (but hopefully not horrified ;) ).

An Aspie's Guide To The Call of the Stage

I recently auditioned for a large scale local production of 'The Three Musketeers', and was very surprised to not only receive a part, but a large one at that. It's kind of left me thinking about acting, and what it means to me personally.

Acting is something I've always enjoyed. Having an enormous imagination at a child often left me in the faux-Dungeon Master role, crafting the worlds and stories for others to play in. This continued into my teenage years, branching off into the various creative arts. Writing - both musical and of the word variety - fuelled my desire to create and explore other worlds and characters from my own imagination. Acting, on the other hand, providing the challenge of embodying a character created by someone else's imagination. I think we all are filled with the desire from time to time to escape ourselves, take a vacation from the real world and just relax. Some people ma do this by taking a literal vacation; others may enter into a new relationship or job. Myself, I've never really ever discovered exactly who "I" am. I have a general concept, yes, but I usually limit my self description to simply whatever makes me happy at the time. To lock myself into a set definition is a frightening thought to me; I'll happily commit to a lot of things, but not to an ideal of self that may be wrong. I've often said that the way I get through life is by choosing the character I wish to be, and then playing that role until it no longer feels like acting. At the moment, I am socialising and hard working Kyle. I love my friends, I enjoy and are fulfilled by my job and find myself motivated to better myself. This is very different to reclusive Kyle from my teenage years, or lost and confused Kyle from my tweens. That said, however, each Kyle is as much me as any other; they are simply representations of the various parts of my psyche that fulfil me at the time. I hope that the Kyle I have become, or am becoming, is one that I shall remain for the rest of my life, but if it changes, then I feel that is not a bad thing.

So you would think with my life constantly acting, I would not be filled with a desire to pursue it as a hobby. But even though I play roles each day, they are roles I have defined myself and worse still, roles that exist and function within the rules and regulations of social hierarchy. On stage, I can be anyone and anything. I can be a murderer, or a priest. A virgin, or a rapist. I can play God, or Satan. I can be whomever I wish and act however I wish, free from the judgement of society. It's all a play, it's not real. It's like therapy, as much as writing or music is. A chance to exorcise the demons, or a chance to play the angel. Or in the case of my upcoming role, an impetuous little shithead King. Because at the end of the day, therapy or not, if it's not fun, you're doing something wrong.

I'm certain that all I've spoken about here is not exclusive to the autistic, but I feel perhaps we are uniquely positioned to be seduced by the call of the stage. Time Minchin said it best; "Beauty is a harlot. She'll dance with any two-bit artist."

An Aspie's Guide To Perspective, Part 2

Well, thanks to my computer being on the fritz, its time for another awkwardly (and laboriously) typed article on my iPhone (which you'd think would be in the iPhone dictionary). To be honest, I'm starting to get used to the thing, even enjoying it a little (though it kills me to admit even that) but one fingered typing is hardly the ideal way to prepare a large article, so we'll try to keep things concise. I've been spending a lot of time lately pondering the upside of Asperger's. Shit has been getting real lately and my dealing has been tenuous at best, which has lead to a greater desire to focus on the positive as best I can. I've come to a realisation; one perhaps not as startling as it first seemed, but a realisation nonetheless. My unique viewpoint, the things that separate me from society at large, do not make me less. In fact, unhindered by social restraints and niceties, it in fact makes me more. I see the world at its most pure. Chaotic, random and terrifying, yes, but beautiful and free of rules and hierarchy. Perhaps autism is not a 'disability' after all, but the next step in evolution. Cases are becoming more and more common, but is this really such a bad thing? In a society almost destroyed by endless manmade rules, laws and restrictions; endlessly governed by an archaic and broken socially contract, perhaps what we need is a movement away from these things. A movement pioneered by autistic people. Throughout history, change has been brought about by many people now considered to be autistic - Einstein and his science, Beethoven and his music, Julius Ceaser and his need to unite the world. I'm hardly proclaiming myself messiah, we all know how well that worked out for the last guy (resurrection and ascension notwithstanding); I'm simply putting forth the relatively harmless idea that perhaps my disability is really a boon and its the world that is wrong and broken and flawed, not me. Is the thought that everything you believe in, everything the world is built on, is broken really such a controversial idea. I'm simply putting forth a theorem as to where the answer may lie. Not with me, of course, but perhaps that person you ridiculed may have just the kind of unique insight to lead us to a better future. Maybe one day, Aspies like myself will outnumber "normal" folks and we will be the ones looking down on you. Or, if you're lucky, we will be the better people and welcome you to our new world. Bugger me, that got preachy. I can go on, but my hand is dead and this screen is a nightmare to read. I don't really have a witty adieu, so I'll simply end with a short plug for my other blog, youreviewau.blogspot.com (now with over 1000 views) and my catchphrase: consider yourself Aspergified. Goodnight, world.

Introspection, Part 2

I'm having fun with these. They don't require much work on my part. I don't have to bother with clever titles, or even editing what I write. It's nice. Those two articles I mentioned last post are in the works, but they are a lot of work, so here's another introspective post to tide you hungry, hungry hippos over.

Progress on my novel has ground to a halt, as with most creative processes in my life at the moment. The general cloud of oppression has momentarily lifted, thanks to a fun weekend, but it remains lingering at my vision and clouding my thoughts. I usually find depression, and all the negative feelings in life, fuel creativity a lot more than happy, happy rainbows do, but this time things are different.

I feel lost, or worse; I feel like a failure. I gave up and ran away from my problems, just like I said I wasn't going to do anymore. Hell, I even said it on here, so I guess I'm a hypocrite on top of everything else. Part of me wishes I'd stayed, but an overwhelming desire to eat, matched with a desire for nice things, overpowered me and I ran. Sure, it was my fault I ended up where I did. I'm not deny that. I made bad choices, consistently and with wild abandon. Most people are emotional eaters; I'm an emotional spender, further proving I probably should have been born with girl parts.

But not all is bad in my life. Sure, I'm quitting my job, but I feel this is a good thing. More change is scary, terrifying, even. Part of me worries I'll be persuaded out of it and spend the rest of the year wasting my life at that place, but I think I'll survive this time. I don't know where I'm going to end up, but to be honest, I'm a little excited. I need some kind of crazy, risky unknown to conquer after my failure. My music career is taking off, too. Opportunities are flying out of the woodwork and things are looking good.

I could do with some new people in my life, though. I love my friends and I don't want to lose them, but sometimes I feel like I need a different crowd. It kind of makes me miss my old school friends at time. Lord knows I could barely stand any of them, but we had some weird kind of chemistry that really worked and I've never been so close with another person as I was with one friend in particular.

Time marches on.

On the random subjects, I constantly forget how brilliant the lyrics to "Oh My" by The Drones are. Seriously, look them up. Australian still has some stunning songwriters left. Like Glenn Richards from Augie March.

"Now did you expect to see someone that you hadn't seen,
somebody you'd known since you were 16,
but if love is a bolt from then blue,
then what is a bolt but a glorified screw?"

Just amazing.

Eh, I'm just not feeling all that witty and clever today, I really can't do it. Hold out though, I've got two amazing articles coming up sometime soon, full of biting wit, razer sharp sarcasm and blinding satire. I promise.

Je t'aime, mon ami. Au revoir.

Introspection

Yeah, I'm pretty sure introspection is a word. I hope it means what I think it means, but it sounds cool regardless. Sorry for leaving this place so empty for a while, things have been all over the place in my life lately which has fueled my penchant for procrastination and general malaise. French is yummy.

I'm not really sure what I have to say right now, but the emptiness has been plaguing me and I feel a desperation in my soul to fill it.

I wanted to write an article about my thoughts on how we're slowly breeding the world into an irreparable stupor, but it's just too damned depressing right now.

I also considered a religion rant, but I just can't work up the anger, or the creativity at the moment.

They will come, I'm sure, but for now I just need something here to motivate myself again.

So I'm cranking some "Uncle Sam Goddamn" (if you haven't heard it, go listen, some serious knowledge in that thing) and just writing whatever I can think of as I go along.

My novel's going well. 134 pages now and the story is growing exponentially beneath my fingers. It's something magical really, this feeling of the creation creating itself. It's a feeling I've somehow never managed to quite capture with my songwriting. Or my poetry. Just something about narrative, be it short story or novel, seems to really tap the creative centre of my brain. A lot of it is self-exploration, a desire to use my writing to not only live vicariously through others, but explore ideas, concepts, conversations and feelings that I either haven't come across in the world, or have never truly understood myself. It's like therapy, but the right person gets paid in the end (insert emoticon to indicate tone).

That is one thing I hate about writing though, especially in this medium. So much can be lost in the coldness of words. I'm a very dry and sarcastic person, often to the point where even someone I'm conversing with will mistake sarcasm for truth. Doubly so when I'm writing. I hear what I write with expression and flow equivalent to some horror child of Kanye West, Eminem and Dylan (Thomas, or Dylan, Bob), with TS Eliot's dry wit and Stephen King's conversation prose. But like the drunk beat-boxer, I'm probably just dribbling shit into a mic.

I don't care what you think, Dubstep gets my blood pumping and my drive foot knocking down laws turkey style (ten pin bowling 1% joke). Here's some dubstep ridiculousness for you all to enjoy:

You're Welcome!


I think my irony timer just expired.

I'm wrapping this up before we end up serving the emperor tea and biscuits Vader style. So I shall bid you adieu, insert witty comment here, ironic reference, pause for effect...

Stay classy, San Diego!

An Aspie's Guide to Growing Up

This is the last serious one, at least for a while. I promise. I prefer to get all these out in one go, like a band-aid. Trust me, we'll all be better for it afterwards. I'll throw in a joke or two somewhere, I'm sure.

Growing up is hard to do, as the songs say. And your parents. And just about everyone else, too. And you know what, like any good cliche, it's right. Still, like school, debts, cancer and Christians, it's just one of those inescapable facts of life. Sadly, no one really teaches us how to grow up, it's just expected that we will. Our parents coddle us, wrap us in protective blankets and hide us from the world, all the while telling horror stories of the big bad world out there, then seeming so shocked when we run out into it head first and split our skulls open. Schools are to busy being the tightly wound bureaucratic mini-government uni-recruitment centres that they are to teach you anything useful. And friends, well, friends are probably the most useful, in a "throw them in the deep end and hope they can swim" kind of way. But still, growing up happens. Painfully, and with more road bumps and pot holes than the Bruce Highway.

Let me tell you a little story. Recently, I made contact again with my ex-girlfriend. No, I'm not going to tell you about her. No, I'm not even going to tell you about us. While I have no issue abusing my privacy, I have no right to abuse hers. Suffice it to say, things didn't end well and we both took the childish approach of ignoring the problem and hoping it went away. And for her, at least, it worked. But me, I grew tired of the childish games. See, I was a man now. I'd moved out of home, I'd bucked the system, stood up to The Man. I had a new job, a bright new outlook, and enough pent-up sexual frustration to justify about damned near anything. Problem was, I'd gone and deleted her number from my phone. Though, thankfully, I had yet to delete a single message from my inbox. Call me sentimental. Long story short, we met up. It was a little awkward, but there was no screaming, no fighting. Somehow, in our time apart, we'd both grown up. The shit she'd been through in that time, well, a lesser person would have just curled up and died. And here I was, acting all superior, playing the good guy. She held up a mirror, unintentionally, and I saw a petulant little child staring angrily back at me, cigarette in his mouth and one hand down his pants. See, I'm one of those people that need a real big wake up call. That's one of the reasons I fell in love with her. She dealt almost exclusively in the massive reality calls. So ever since then, I've been trying to actually, properly grow up. Things have fallen silent between us since, I think we both know there's nothing left there. But there's a sense of closure in my heart now, and I no longer have to try to hide myself every time I see her. It's a small town and there's only so many cars to duck behind.

All that's all well and good, but fuck me if growing up isn't a bitch. There are times when I just downright hate it. I want to curl up in a ball and wish it all away. I hate paying rent, I hate paying more and more each week for fuel, I hate not getting to shop some weeks cause I just don't have the money. I hate washing, I hate ironing, I hate having to share a house with two other people, I hate how it's changed my relationships. Fuck, I just hate the damned change. And then I stand up, I think of my ex, and I punch myself in the face and pull myself together. I make my breakfast, take a teaspoon or two of cement, and harden the fuck up. I'm no longer the person who cries myself to sleep at night, I no longer need a strong mother figure to hide behind, and to hold me up, and to have wild crazy person sex with. I need to believe I'm different now. Independent. Strong. Even when all evidence screams to the contrary, I need to believe. Growing up is my religion, and the unattainable manhood is my God.

And that's it, that's all I have to say about that. I did my best, I threw in a joke or two, hopefully enough to lighten the mood a little. This is not a bummer trip, or a fish for sympathy. Just another peek behind the curtain. And sadly, it's late and I can't think of anything more witty, so I'm going to end this TS Elliot style: not with a bang, but a whimper.

An Aspie's Guide to Morality

Morality is a funny old beast, and certainly not something that's easy to summarize. I'd like to use an example from a House episode I just watched to help make some interesting points. First, the moral dilemma. An 18 year old kid has to raise his 11 year old sister and 8 year old brother after their parents die. It is revealed he has a genetic disorder that has destroyed his immune system, leaving him unable to care for the kids. His only hope is a bone marrow transplant from his younger brother, which he refuses to have on the grounds that his brother isn't old enough to make an informed decision. However, House with his trademark wisdom convinces the kid to admit he's only refusing the surgery because he's sick of dealing with the kids. Foreman rags on the kid for abandoning his siblings and says the kid is going to regret his decision for the rest of his life. There are two moral dilemmas here. The first is the most obvious, keep the kids and raise them, or pussy out. Then there is the second, less obvious. Is keeping the kids really best for them? Would they be better with the child services, or with their under-paid, over-worked brother? As with the best moral dilemmas, there really isn't a best answer. It depends whether you value biology and family, over taking a chance that the kids might be better off being raised by strangers. Personally, I think the kid made the right choice. Personally, I've never really been one for biological connections. I've been brought up to rely on and enjoy the traditional family aesthetics, but this is something that's been taught to me, not something that I was born with. Not only that, but the kid is barely making enough to support himself, let alone two others. Yes, it might sound selfish, but why should someone have to throw away everything because of some random bad hand dealt to them by fate? They often saying doing good is hard but personally rewarding, whilst doing "evil" is easy and fiscally rewarding, but makes you unable to sleep at night. But at the end of the day, morals is an imaginary construct. It is something taught or learnt, it is not a biological imperative. We are not born with a moral compass, or an understanding of right and wrong. It's why crime exists, why people can murder and rape and send others to war for stupid, made-up reasons like invisible weapons or non-existent overly-racist omnipotent sentient beings. Our morals come from our friends, or family. They come from our teachers and bosses. But at the end of the day, somewhere at the very beginning, the concept of right and wrong, of absolute good and evil was invented but a single individual. So perhaps the oldest, most controversial moral decision is - is it morally correct for one person to decide what is right and wrong for everyone? Huh, I guess I've stumbled onto one of those impossible questions. Well, this whole article has just gone nowhere. I've written myself into a black hole. There's no escape.

Shit.

An Aspie's Guide To Writing

Despite it's inherent therapeutic nature, writing and Asperger's don't get along all that well. The rules and regulations of writing - grammar and spelling, for example - are not the problem. The biggest problem, at least for myself, even more so than metaphor, symbolism and figures of speech is dialogue and character interaction. When I write it's often how I'd like to see the world; the characters are of exaggerated versions of myself or those I know. Still, I often fear my lack of social skill leaves my characters quite cold and alienating, or worse - stereotypical. With no true knowledge or experience to fall back on, I can only write what feels right to me; my own vision of the world. It's why I often write in a fantasy setting, where a certain level of strangeness can be forgoven. It's also why I enjoy sticking close to, or even perverting genre conventions. It gives me the safety of a strong set of rules and guidelines, but allows me then the freedom to put my own unique perspective or spin on it. Crime and mystery, procedural drama and especially old style noire are particular favourites of mine. My own writing style is more akin to sitcom writing. I'll first come up with a strong group of characters and then create a bullet points list of plot elements to put them in and then allow the characters to connect the dots. This not only allows strong characterisation throughout, but allows the story to grow in unexpected ways. And if it surprises me, then surely it will surprise the reader. I'll keep this short as I'm writing on my iPhone and even this much has taken forever. I'll leave you with a philosophical, t-shirt ready sound bite: I collected my thoughts like butterflies and pinned them to a board But in the end, they were little more than spaghetti on the wall - a waste of good food and one hell of a mess Peace. Consider yourself Aspergified:)

An Aspie's Guide to Planning for the Future

Don't do it. Seriously, it's completely bogus. Life is made up of a series of interconnected, random events of chaos and order, ordained over by Fate, or Destiny, or God or whatever, so what say do we have? I didn't plan on buying a new phone this week, but I still have to buy one. We cannot possibly factor every hypothetical into our lives, so why bother? Is it not easier simply to let life take it's course, hanging on for dear life and occasionally screaming "stop the world, I want to get off?" Sure, plan your career, budget your money, but don't look so surprised when everyone else isn't willing to live by your preordained plan.

Surely there's a simple option I'm missing, you must be thinking. Have a Plan B, or a Plan C even. And when they fail? If I so chose, my head can come up with a plan, then generate about twenty contingencies for every hypothetical it could come up with. But I've wasted the time planning when I could have been doing and chances are the opportunity has already passed me by. It is in the nature of the Aspergic, as with any person I'm sure, to fear the unknown, to fear change. We fear what we can't control, what we can't define and fit into our little boxes and labels we've created for the world. Work is good, learning is good, sex is fun but too much is bad. Or is that chocolate? We divide and justify and collect everything into it's right place, until something knew comes along and messes up the whole system. It's why people like me don't fit in. We're not easily categorized. We can't be summed up or explained. We're liquid, shifting constantly from one state to the next, desperately trying to fit in and instead making ourselves more of an outcast with each moment. We are like the future, we are the unknown and so we are feared. And so I have come to treat the future as I do any new thing, with a bizarre mix of fear and respect. I have broken out of the vicious cycle of fretting endlessly over every decision until it resolves itself, vanishes or someone else makes it. Instead, I jump head first in, screaming like a girl and hoping the jump isn't as far as it looks. Then I agonize endlessly over it. It's yet to backfire on me, it has lead to many changes in my life this year. A new house, a new job, an old friend. It's hardly a cure, I'm simply ignoring my feelings and avoiding the issue as always, but in a slightly (I hope) more healthy way this time.

Now when I explode, would someone kindly bundle up what you can of me in a container and then cremate me inside a gorgeous grand piano? If that's not all too much to ask. Sayonara, readers. Until next time, consider yourself Aspergified.

An Aspie's Guide To...An Aspie's Guide To

So I guess I better quickly clarify exactly what it is I'm going for here, just in case I'm misconstrued (which is an awesome word, btw. Did I ever mention how much I love words?) Anywho, this is not a beg for sympathy, it's not my life story. It's not me bitching, whining or opining. Well, maybe a little. What this is is a chance for me to truly express myself how I wish. I've long struggled to find my voice in non-fictional writing, as many who read my review site know. A friend of mine suggested I need to find some original point of view, and after much struggling I realised I had one all along. So this is me, expressing my own unique little view on the world and it's many wonders. From the weird little societal quirks, to the big life altering questions, to love, to answering your questions. That's right, folks, simply leave a question in the comments, or e-mail or message me and I will answer as many as I can. No shit. Nothing is sacred, nothing is too personal.

So that's that, I hope. There will be more legitimate articles to come as I find more and more time, but in the meantime, I leave you with this quote from Daria: "Always remember, if the Emperor looks naked, he probably is naked."

An Aspie's Guide to Asperger's Syndrome

It's pretty accepted practice with these things that one should always start simple, or break the audience in, so to speak. Unfortunately, I'm left in the unique position of having to start with probably the hardest thing I'm ever going to have to write about on here, before I can get on to the more easier, consumer friendly ramblings.

What is Asperger's is a question quite akin, in my mind at least, to "what is the meaning of life?" or "does objective reality exist?" or any of those fun, raging philosophical debate questions.To start broad and simple, Asperger's Syndrome is part of the Autism Spectrum. However, Asperger's itself is on a spectrum. My own form of Asperger's is a high-functioning Asperger's, and is totally different to anyone else's. Starting to notice the problem? So what I'm going to talk about today is my Asperger's, and my experiences with it.

My Asperger's, from what I've been told, and what I can notice myself, mainly affects my social skills, my cognitive abilities, and my intellect to the stage that if I were a robot, or computer, I would have been scrapped during manufacturing. Imagine being born without the necessary skills to survive in the "real world". Imagine if everything you do naturally - talking, body language, feeling, walking - was suddenly foreign and alien to you. The fact that I can socially interact with anyone at all is thanks to years of intensive social training. Every situation I've been in has been rehearsed like a play. Which leaves me in a rather compromising position when I encounter a new scenario, hence the intense fear of change. It's like you're in a play and you find out opening is tonight and you don't have a script or a costume. So you bumble through, trying to use what you know and bounce of those around you, but the crowd is booing you and everyone else is looking at you like you're some tongue-tied idiot.

The worst part, truly, is emotions and body language, and the expressing and understanding of each. It's still something I struggle with to this day. My brain often can't distinguish between emotions, especially if I'm feeling more than one thing at once. I used to compare it to a bread factory, everything is running fine until something jams or goes wrong, and suddenly you've got a massive pile up and alarms ringing. I've gotten much better than then, I have methods and strategies in place to deal with such things, but the chance is always there that it could happen again.

It's not all doom and gloom though, the Asperger's has also left me with a razer sharp intellect and an almost sponge-like ability to learn. I pick up new things fast and provided I continue to use it, I never forget anything I've learnt. And whilst it can be dangerous, applied properly, my highly addictive personality can work in my favour. It's shaped my musical ability to the stage that it is at now, and it has driven me to learn to fit in and "be normal". Yes, it also means I have to be careful with my drinking, and I'll never take drugs, or smoke, or anything like that - which is a good thing. But I can also become addicted to people, to feelings, to experiences. To anything, really.

Still, I'm not looking for sympathy, or pity. I'm not looking for anything outside a mutual understanding, really. We all have our battles; although the fact that even existing for me is often a battle means that when I encounter a true problem, I'm often left without the adequate strength or courage to face it, resulting in many situations where I've been called weak, or a coward.

There's a lot of this subjective I've not covered here. Some of it I will cover later, and some of it I won't because others have said it better, or it's frankly too personal. For those interested in the actual science behind it, there's plenty of books to read. For a more casual interest, I greatly suggest reading "All Cat's Have Asperger's" which is a delightful picture book comparing funny cat pictures to Asperger's symptoms. Or "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night", a mystery novel written from the perspective of the author's 13 year old Aspergic son. Very eye opening. For those with a bit more patience and who are interested to learn what someone with un-diagnosed Asperger's might go through, I greatly recommend finding the interactive novel "Katawa Shoujo" and following Rin's path.

And that is all I have to say on that. Consider yourself Aspergified. Kyle out:)

COMING SOON