listening to the whirring of my mini fan heater… i hate the heater, it gets so dry, my throat hurts, but i also hate the extreme wet cold urrrrgh… too many thoughts clanging around in my head again… the curse of asperger’s? very akin to madness for sure…

i got some chocolate today at godiva… i remember the time i was there with veronica and i bought her a bag of chocs… i really like veronica… wish i’d met her before i ever met him… it wasnt my fault, he’d lied abt veronica to me, i never found out till it was too late… but it was indeed my fault that i’d lied to veronica abt my past with him… i hv never once regretted telling her the truth… how can u live with lying lying lying to the face of someone u respect?… i asked this question many times… i asked him… and i also asked little miss talented artist… but both cld not give me any answer… becos they live that way – lying to the face of ppl whom they say they respect… and him?… veronica said something very profound – he has no emotional honesty… how true… how cld he say “i love u darling pie” to someone’s face and allow that someone to believe wholeheartedly in his words while he just played his own little game of “fantasy”?… hmmmm…

it’s getting pretty hot… if only this silly heater cld be more regulated… ah well, at the price i paid, i shd not complain… it has served me well thru 2 winters already… how time flies… and i still dont kw for sure whether i wld accomplish what i came here to do after all this that’s happened to me… i feel as if i hv lost all ability to dream… my beloved little swallow said he hopes i will find back that spunky kid he once knew before this nightmare came upon me… i hope so too…

ok time to fiddle with that darned heater… whirring whirring whirring…

the mind of an aspie is a strange thing… while not all of us hv super IQs like bill gates or einstein, almost all of us ruminate obsessively – a good and bad trait which has led to research breakthroughs as well as mental breakdowns!

so here i m ruminating… more like obsessively playing back sequences, loopy loops as i call them, in my head… over and over again…

she blamed me for veronica’s so-called ‘disappearance’… she said veronica is a sensitive person (in a slightly negative sense) who wld remember a grudge… but that is not the veronica i hv experienced… she said she is “worried” abt veronica… she says they are ‘friends’…

yet

she never just called her ‘friend’ to say hello, she allowed her ‘friend’ to disappear without a word from her… no sms, no email – at all… preferred instead to berate me albeit in carefully contrived sweet gentle feminine tones abt my telling veronica the trut- an aspie can see thru it when a person pretends to ‘humour’ me… i dont like her brand of cutesy sarcasm – c’mon baby, we’re all adults… if veronica was ur friend in the way u said she was, why didnt u bother to even call her to ask her how she is doing – or r u afraid she might ask for some favour / errand etc…?

hot milo+soya milk+baileys = an eureka moment!

i spent thousands of dollars buying up tickets to his show, even while his sick twisted ex-bitch was torturing me left right and centre, i was telling everyone i knew how great his work is, giving tickets away to the uninitiated, making sure they turned up… twice he asked me for money, and i gave… not little at all… my widow’s mite… i was naive, he called me “friend” but not once did he hv a meal with me, not even a drink… and he wanted me to pretend we didnt even know each other… what ‘friendship’ is this? how naive of me not to realise until too late… how cld i hv carried on believing his words when he’d said he loved me then later told me it was just a fantasy? and then after that he said he was my ‘friend’ – how cld i hv believed him again and again? ah, yes, i still berate myself for that… 2 years of crippling agony later, tens of thousands of dollars poorer, buried under a deluge of reverberating verbal abuse and condemnation, even now, as i pick up the pieces and find my feet and my dreams again, i m still promoting his work, his artistry, actively, to those i think may be of use of help to him… becos i believe in it… and i respect him still, as an artist, as a talent, and his sincerity to make good changes to the scene… but he will never know… and even if he knew, it wld make no difference to him… he is such a well known figure in his own right, why wld he need or even appreciate my vehement promotion of him?… and… those last words of his to me, so filled with venom, still trickle hot in my ear…

but nay i m no hero… i hv lost nothing compared to veronica… 19 years of her life she has known him, she bore him a child, a beautiful wonderful child who looks hauntingly like him, like her, linking them both together for as long as she lives, a testimony of momma’s tragic folly and dada’s sad ironic pathetic inability… he says he loves his sweet baby, but despite all his talent, he has no idea what love and commitment is… veronica is the true hero here… and my heart wrenches for her…

that voluptuous babe in the corner of the room, cheap dyed hair tied back in a ponytail, eyes glazed over in boredom, picking on her nails and biting bits off, looking quite the sore thumb to anyone who had any powers of observation at all (but all in that room were too engaged in discussion abt loftier things than looking out for a bimbo awaiting a shag for the night)… waiting waiting waiting…

but my guess is if anyone asked him, he wld say that the bimbo has one thing that veronica and i both don’t have… he wld say what all men wld say, be they men of great talent or utter idiots, “she is uncomplicated”… and, in his own words abt another one of his sluts, “i don’t care what she is, she’s a damn good fuck!”…

eureka!

brrrr it has been cold here the last two days… had the heater on all night and through the day when at home… tiring day… worked on some writing, then hacked away at the details for the planned move, got all togged up to get out… the bust was crowded and oh so stuffy, i became very hot and bothered, not just from the lack of fresh air and the physical heat of so many human bodies squashed into a small space, but also from the effort of quelling rising panic due to the assault to my senses – bodies pressed against each other, horrible disgusting smells (why oh why do ppl not wash?) – someone was even eating garlic french fries! i truly felt like puking… AND screaming… then lo and behold i arrived at the lecture and the room was chock full of ppl… the girl in front of me smelled like yesterday’s rotting leftovers, and the lady in front of her was coughing and blowing her nose like a virulent germbag… repulsive is a mild word – i cld not concentrate on the lecture, i spent the next one and a half hours trying to quell yet again another panic attack…

tired out by the time i reached home… brrrr

when a beautiful woman begins to speak in foul language and make ridiculously stupid and nasty remarks, when she does something that goes against others’ expectations of her beauty – when her inner beauty does not match her outer beauty – then it is sullied in the eyes of observers and even admirers…

when a brilliant talented artist begins to speak in pompous criticism of others’ art and artistry – undaunted even after being roundly told off to only speak when in possession of full knowledge and training of the others’ art – then the same happens… disappointment, progressing to disgust and repulsion…

and yes aspies are obsessive… i hv tried to put my repulsion for her out of my mind… unsuccessfully… even the memory of her smell now makes me feel nauseous and sick to the core… the way she wears her hat, the way she sips her tea, the memory of all that, i wish cld be taken clean away from me…

why do artists find it so hard to put down their monumental egos and just sit back and enjoy or just respect one another’s work in the wide open world of ‘art’ – which includes all disciplines and forms within those disciplines…???? sad… this ‘friend’ of mine is a brilliant artist in her own right… but her lack of humility has revealed her lack of intellect and depth… and all her other faults once so easily overlooked hv become magnified under the telescope of puffed up pride…

sullied beauty… is pathetic and sad…

he once said to me, “i am a multi-personalities man”… seems like such a long long time ago now, yet still so vividly clear and resonant in my head… i dont kw whether to laugh out loud or shake with sorrow at such irony and farce… indeed, he is a multi-personalities man… mr. multi… richly talented, achingly beautiful, earnest and sincere in his caring for his profession and furthering the cause of good artistry… yet at the same time profoundly foolish, twisted, deceitful with such ingenuous flourish… but i wonder, for all his multi-personalities that he lays claim to, where is the one that is able to separate personal differences from relating on a purely professional platform?…

how sad… but i do not regret speaking the truth… i hv to be true to myself… in the end, he gave me no support no good reason not even a loyal friendship for the kind of support that he demanded from me – lying in the face of one whom i respect is for me a monumental feat… i was quashing my innate and intrinsic nature of bald honesty in my words and simple truthfulness… each time she raised the issue, i mumbled lies and my soul felt sick, disgusted at myself and anxious… why do this for someone who doesnt care a hoot for me anyway? his final words to me spoke volumes – the truth at last from his twisted lips of deceit… what he truly thought of me… and tho it hurt deep, it also released me from the shackles of spiraling fear, confusion and despair…

dear mr. multi – it wasnt me who said all those nasty things, it was u who called me names and condemned my heart to hell with those searing damning words… it wasnt me who kicked u away, it was u who used me and then accused me of causing my own grief… ur cruel words jangle in my head still, each time i see u… but truth, the truth that those terrible words revealed to me, has set me free to walk away from ur web of deceit and subjugation of the mind…

thank u mr. multi… i feel so sorry for that girl waiting around dead bored playing with her fingernails all night – why do u always prefer the mindless cheap bimbos?… perhaps because u r too afraid of truth… and true multi-faceted beauty… it’s easier isnt it, to hold a floosy, she wont ever give ur dulled conscience any nightmares, unlike me…

good night my dear… i m still praying for u… as i kw veronica too is, for she loves u deep too… perhaps far more than even i do…

thoughts scrambled… too too tired… busy week… not all good… but at least it ended well… by well i mean the last 2 social events were with good friends… last nite with a great friend and collaborator, and his lovely wife, and today with another friend who shares my love for food… i meant it literally when i told that female artist – i dont need more friends… haha it must hv sounded so horrid to her, but it is truth… too much socialising makes me physically ill – the TMJ has returned since i came back here, and the ulcers are bad again today… pain is crippling – but many ppl will never understand this until they grow old and develop painful ailments common to aging and the dying process… me, i hv carried this since birth, pain is part of my existence but i never grew used to it… i dont anyone ever can… yet, looking at all things, i m pleased to come this far… happy and blessed, and also pleased with myself… i aint a hero on a stump running a marathon, but i hv weathered this pain well…

youth is so proud and impetuous, but there is so much verve and energy in youth that the middle age do not possess… and i m no exception… when i was younger, i was able to go go go on painkillers, mowing the world down with my enthusiasm and aggressively passionate… now i smile and see myself in so many young talents i meet, tho they hv far more opportunities and no physical limitations unlike myself… and i feel happy to see new things developing, yet i kw i m no longer the same as them, and i hv to dance to a different beat, even a different beat from the one i had danced to before…

scrambled thoughts indeed… where was i? anyway… time to rest up… full week ahead… hope the pain subsides somewhat… i need strength physical strength to get thru the week…

TMJ again… seems to hv come back when i returned here… ah well… c’est ma vie!… still cld manage a nice tomato & mozarella toasty for lunch anyway, which is always good news… for those who hv never been plagued with mouth ulcers and TMJ at the same time, a simple thing like being able to eat a piece of wholemeal bread with melted cheese may seem mundane, but to those of us with such unusual maladies, the very act is in itsself a celebration of life’s little blessings!

eating is a ritual for humankind… but for us with behcet’s, it is a sombre daily ritual… sometimes a celebration of wellness, other times a mournful ritual…

the TMJ does hurt, and a few ulcers are bothering me right now, but all in, i m trying to celebrate – dinner with good friend tonite… i hope i will be physically strong enough to enjoy it… cheers for food rituals!

mindbloggingly gibberishy gobbledegoob like oooooooodles of noodles running amok inside one’s head unravelling completely with sounds of syllables that mean nothing and mean plenty at the same time… woof!

moving house is no joke at all… esp for an aspie… been obsessively drawing out and redrawing over and over again my plans… i laugh at myself, when my circles r not drawn right i tend to keep at it till i m satisfied – for heaven’s sake, it’s just a circle on a sketchpad of where my furniture shd go, sth i will throw away after the ordeal is over, so why bother if it aint perfectly round???? hahaha ok so my detractors DO indeed hv much to murmur abt…

been feeling very very happy and blessed lately… how many ppl get the luxury of having two loyal supporters take a 3 and half hour flight just to come help me pack my shit and move stuff for me? it was a hectic semi-holiday for them, my beloved sister and her sweet hubby… used to holidaying in luxury hotels, this pair came and did hard manual labour, and slept on a double mattress from ikea in the living room floor of my tiny weeny flat!!! and then i hv two other friends who will be coming over to help me pack the rest of the shit – yep i have a LOT of stuff!!!… and i managed to find a good mover without having to pay an arm and leg for the move of my heavy furniture…

i’m one lucky gal! (and loveable too by the statistics at hand!) WOOF!

yes, i kw, i ask the darnest questions… yes, i often put people in a spot… and yes yes yes, ppl r known to react negatively… but shd i even bother to try to be common, ordinary, unchallenging and bland?… not that there is anything intrinsically wrong abt being common, ordinary, unchallenging and bland, if that is what u are… but why shd we be pressed to become something we are not?

if there were no difficult, awkward, sometimes downright embarassing questions, statements, observations and perspectives, where wld the world be? the answer is obvious – still in the neanderthal ages…

why do we worship the special, different and somehow make them out to be more wonderful, and then crucify the very things we worship when it makes us uncomfortable up close?

yes we hv had very intense personal issues – but why doesnt he separate the personal from the professional?… i do admit it is a fine line, we are all human after all, even aspies (r u surprised?)… but i m musing on the unwillingness more than the inability to see things for what they are – literally… or is this some ’special’ talent of ppl with asperger’s which is not found in others?… i cannot believe it is impossible – just as i cannot believe it is impossible for ppl with asperger’s to learn to relate to society and be useful, functioning and contributing members to the greater good… the same for the non-autists shd apply shd it not?… yet… sadly… there r countless programmes for autists to learn how to function in a neuro-typical world, but precious bleedingly rare the other way around… yet… the world continues to rely on the ’special’ ppl to make new discoveries, push the boundaries of knowledge, question the unquestionable – what irony, for these are the very ones who make others uncomfortable, those who are unfairly marginalised, those who are condemned and mocked…

well, i hv jumped into my own uniqueness with my guns loaded, shooting and smoking… after years of trying to conform, what the heck it just aint right at all… i m me… and this is the only way i can grow – being me… asking questions, pushing boundaries, making ppl uncomfortable because i say things as they are (truth makes ppl squirm for some reason?), see things differently… will i ever be accepted and integrated? NO… but i dont need to be… i m me… smoking barrels and all… whoever says beauty comes easy?