Wednesday, June 23, 2004

This song is perfect (well, except for pool and school). I've already mentioned the fact that communication is problematic for me. I tend to believe and try to rely on telepathy to some extent, but I think the cold hard truth is that this has been a figment of my (colorful) imagination and I just wanted to believe that such a thing was possible, that it wouldn't be so goddamned *difficult*, that someone would be able to see and hear past the faltering awkward words that are so labored and inadequate for what I want to say. In other words, wishful thinking. There isn't such a thing. Oh, I don't know....maybe there is, hell, I don't know... Even if there is...but for the momnet let's just assume there's not, how many opportunuties have been lost of simply never came to pass, how many unrealized interactions have there been because I thought that somehow, the other person could read my eyes or thoughts? (Read my eyes??? It is SO HARD for me to look a person in the eye, with *rare* exceptions).

But mostly, I think I just zone out, and probably look stupid while doing so. Even if there is telepathy, how many people would be receptive of it?

Ack...I'm getting sidetracked. Anyway, here is a portion of the above song that expresses how I feel. (Song is copyrighted, Elton John, etc etc)
If you only knew
What I'm going through
Time and again I get ashamed
To say your name
It's hard to grin and bear
When you're standing there
My lips are dry
I catch your eye and look away

Yeah. That perfectly expresses the almost paralyzing degree or shyness and social ineptitude that I suffer from.

AND WHAT REALLY SUCKS is when I finally get up the nerve to say something to someone (believe it or not I sometimes rehearse things I want to say hours, days, even months in advance), when I finally spit it out and then the other party doesn't even listen or really hear me, or they look at me like I'm nuts, etc etc..... Oh god, it is so frustrating!!! Or, they hear and listen but it doesn't 'get through' to them, or still, worse, they misunderstand me and don't give me a chance to defend myself before jumping all the hell over me (after which I go away and plan out a carefully executed reply for the next week or two). God, it sucks to be me. :sigh: :-(

Monday, June 21, 2004

I took this test and while I could have scored far worse than I did, I had an extremely difficult time with it. The answers I would have guessed weren't usually among the multiple choices. For example, for most of the women, my choice would have been 'sexy' or 'contemptuous'. The men, I wasn't any more sure about....I found myself throwing up my hands in exasperation- how can all that be inferred or read from someone's eyes??

The answers were far more complex and fine tuned than what I would have given: 1- playful, or friendly. 2, sad or else, old. 3, sexpot. 4, domineering 5, looking up thinking 6, sexpot. 7,looking back to the side as though he has just seen something 8,squinting in sunlight. 9, sexpot looking for someone. 10, rugged looking guy smiling 11, possibly a drunk or else tired. 12,skeptical sidelong glance. 13, open 14, scary 15, dreamy girl probably thinking about guy she likes. 16, I like this set of eyes. I can't be objective in my answer, so I'll skip it. These are the sort of eyes I go for. 17 dreamy slightly sad girl 18, bitchy sexpot, probably thinks she's very hot 19, I honestly don't know... 20, slightly walleyed friendly. 21, pretty-friendly 22, careful 23, alert. 24, old and sad and worried 25,sexpot acting flirty 26, unhealthy icky eyes, I would automatically avoid this person, not sure why. 27,28, sexpots looking sexy (what else could possibly be derived from these???) 29, dreamy 30, 31, same as 27 and 28. 32, old, determined, battle scarred. 33, another handsome set of eyes. This time they looked worried, or yes, concerned. Mostly they look good! :-P 34, sexpot, probably Californian. 35, sultry sexpot (whatever that means) 36, mean.

I suppose that to me, a woman wearing lots of eye makeup looks sexy and that's about it. I read no expression in those eyes, except for the dreamy ones. Not too surprising that I have difficulties forming friendships with women- they are almost completely inscrutable to me. The men are slightly better to read, but not by much. Hmmm.

Thursday, June 17, 2004

All my life, I've felt like an outcast. I was never able to put a finger on *why*, but the sense of it couldn't have been clearer had it been branded on my forehead. I've struggled (mostly in vain) to make myself heard or understood, given up, sighed and fumed and raged at the perceived ineptitude and shallowness of the general population. They seemed always to be playing some sort of unspoken game that I couldn't see or figure out or read the rules to, yet was punished for failing at.... Now it all makes sense, total and complete sense (well, not the game- that will _never_ make sense to me).

As a child, I used to wonder at what people did...and I used to believe that it was my job to show them the error of their ways, of their stupid two faced social games and lack of forthrightness and honesty. I used to promise myself, that when I grew up, I'd remember what it was like to be a kid, and that I'd be true to myself, not like the adults that I puzzled over. As far as I was concerned, my mission in life was to offer my profound insights to the world at large, to teach them what was really important in life and to quit fretting over silly crap (ah, the idealism of childhood...).

But they throttled me, literally and otherwise. The happily curious and richly creative loner withered away into a brooding, withdrawn, and very confused and depressed 'dork' before I was through third grade. I kept hoping that I'd find someone who'd understand, that I could have a rapport with...really, truly...all I've ever really wanted is to have that rapport and bond with someone, just one person, and I'd be truly and deeply happy. I kept looking...and looking....and looking....and waiting, because I'm about as patient about waiting as a person could possibly be. I'd wait my entire life to spend just one year, or even a month, perhaps only a day of it with someone in that sort of a bond. Yes, I'd wait, and gladly...not begrudging a second of the time spent. Once, I thought I'd found such a person, and I was in seventh heaven for a few days, a few hours, until, until...he sort of vanished from my life. For years I tried to maintain the illusion that he had understood, that he had liked me as I really was...but finally I had to accept that he hadn't. If he had, he would have known me better than he did, he wouldn't have done certain things. He was a nice man, but he never really knew me.

In the bible, the word 'know' or 'knew' is used in a sexual context: "and Adam knew his wife Eve and they concieved a son, Abel." "Issac went into the tent and knew Rebekah and she became his wife". I don't believe in the bible anymore, but this use of the word moves and a relationship should involve really 'knowing' your lover. "And the girl was a virgin, no man had ever known her". My body is no longer virginal...but in a certain sense, I've never been 'known'. My soul has never been opened. And I'd give anything, anything, anything at all that was mine to give, to have that, but I'd sooner live and die alone than to ever settle for less again.

Anyway, long story short...whether there was actually anything wrong with me is debateable, but yes, I was and am defintely different:

Monday, June 14, 2004

I am really really depressed.....I think I'm an Aspie (a person with Aspberger's syndrome). I mean, in a way this is kind of a relief- it totally explains why I'm the way I am, and frankly I'm sick and tired of trying to go against the grain of my personality merely to fit in, and I've felt 'weird' my entire life- but on the other hand it feels like a sort of death's pretty typical for Aspies to have a very hard time forming relationships, even friendships, beyond an aquaintanceship level. People with Asperger's have a very hard/near impossible time with 'reading' or misreading so-called normal people (among other things)...and this definitely seems to be a HUGE issue with me.

All I've ever wanted my entire life (other than being an artist) is to have *ONE* really close friend who'd understand me. I don't think it's ever going to happen. I've been alone my entire life and it looks like I always will be. :-( I don't know if that sort of a life is worth living.

Sunday, June 13, 2004

What do you say when you can't eat, can't drink, can't sleep, can't get out of bed, can't face the world, when your mind feels like it's falling apart...and then it gets worse?

I'm trying to tell myself I deserve it, but somehow that's a little hard to believe.

Friday, June 11, 2004


I'm depressed. I feel things so intensely, and I had might as well be a mute hermit for all the (lack of) ability I have in expressing it. The things that are within me- feelings, thoughts, ideas, insights, and so on, torment me, especially the feelings. I can be content to sit and think about the other stuff, except that it gets lonely...but feeling aren't rational and trying to analyze or transform them into something rational gets really tiresome after a few months (well, okay, sooner than that). Anyway, back to the main thought at hand: spoken words can never express or do justice to the things in my head, and it ****ing drives me crazy.

How can anyone cram what they feel into a few convenient, concise words and be contented with that? An idea- they're diagrams or images in my head, something almost tangible that I can turn over mentally and examine from several angles. It's always been this way for me- even numbers. How anyone can translate such a thing into sounds, and sounds not of music or even singing- for that seems possible to me- but of a voice speaking, just baffles and confounds me. Don't they sense the lack of vitality, the color fading from the thing, the difference between a living growing flower and a dead wilted one?

They don't seem to. Are they contented with that, are they shallow or are they able to say what they want to? How can that be enough for them?

Eh. What I'm really wondering doesn't concern them. I feel like a very plain understated package that people pass over because it just sits there, concealing what is within- many interesting and colorful things- because it is incompetent and powerless to describe them on little label. I can gripe about the bright and clearly labeled boxes or criticize the ones with the picture windows displaying their contents, but that only circumvents the real issue. I am jealous, yes!!- green with envy- because I sit on the sidelines as though paralyzed and dumb. I feel like a social retard, crippled by my ineptitude and clumsiness.

The only thing that even comes close to expressing it, (other than actions, which are inclined to be cautious) is art. I'm about ripe for another painting. People don't understand them, either, but at least I feel better afterwards for having expressed it..... :-P