#oneaday Day 787: Friendfreeslop

I read an interesting piece earlier on the phenomenon of "friendslop". This is a term I'm not overly fond of, but it serves a purpose as there appears to be a somewhat amorphous if commonly agreed sort-of definition. The piece explores how despite appearances, "friendslop" is something that continues to drive a bit of a wedge between us interacting with one another in the real world by turning socialisation into content.

I'm not sure I agree with (or entirely understand) the piece's core thesis, but I am particularly conscious of the subject today, as there have been a number of glowing reviews dropping for Big Walk, the new game from House House, the company previously known for Untitled Goose Game. I have reached a point where I am immediately suspicious when all the particularly online critics on Bluesky are all over a new indie game, because the last time that happened was Blue Prince, and I fucking hate Blue Prince. But I'm also aware that Big Walk, as good as it might actually be, is fundamentally inaccessible to me.

You see, I don't really have anyone that I might have been able to enjoy that game with right now. Oh sure, I have people that I know and like online, but I don't know any of them that might be interested in playing a game that, for one reason or another, appears to be getting nudged slowly but surely towards the bin marked "Friendslop (complimentary)".

And folks that I would have previously regarded as my "IRL" friends, with whom I have enjoyed online multiplayer shenanigans of various descriptions? I haven't heard from any of them in over a year, after they severely upset me around my birthday last year.

Thus, I am mostly alone, so far as gaming is concerned. And this is frustrating, because although I have always found social interactions to be a tad challenging in various ways — which I learned late into my adult life is at least partly because of my existence on the autistic spectrum, and is the main reason I don't play with strangers — for many years, gaming was something that, while I often enjoyed as a solitary pursuit, I absolutely loved sharing with others just as much. Many of my absolute fondest gaming memories are about times spent playing together — and not necessarily in a "multiplayer" context, either! Let me try and think of a few.

Those days in school, where you had made a new friend and you plucked up the courage to ask your parents to let you go to their house. Fond memories of visiting my friend Edd and playing on his Amiga, and of him coming to my house and playing on my ST, SNES and, later, the PC. That time we played Flashback and had trouble with the big gooey boss thing on one of the last levels and ended up singing "The membrane, the membrane, the membrane is dead!" over and over after we finally beat it.

Those days in sixth form that felt like they'd never end — but sadly did — where we'd wander into town, grab some lunch from the local bakery, visit the local computer shop and buy a new game for PlayStation or N64, then all pile around someone's house to play it for hours. The time we played Mario Kart 64 and wrote down all the obscenities we hurled at one another for a feature in the sixth form magazine we produced. The time when none of us were really all that into football, but we played the World Cup 98 N64 game anyway, because it was fun. The many recording sessions we had to produce "voice acting" for our Klik and Play games, and the out-takes that made us laugh until we thought we'd piss ourselves. The time we introduced our head of sixth form to the one and only Klik and Play game we finished, where he was the main villain.

Those days in university, where after lectures were done, we'd pile around someone's house and play split-screen GoldenEye, Perfect Dark, Diddy Kong Racing and Mario Kart 64 for hours. The advent of the PlayStation 2, and how an experience as new and fresh as Grand Theft Auto III was something we could enjoy together, even though it was a single-player game. The time my friends brought a copy of Silent Hill 2 with them and I finished it in a single evening while they passed out, hammered and full of curry, in my living room, only to wake up and see the credits rolling.

Those days when I lived in an amazing flat in Winchester, and I had a bunch of friends over, we all got absolutely munted and took off our shirts to play LAN party Halo for some reason. When my housemate came back to find a living room full of half-naked men, she decided it was to be called "Gaylo" from then onwards.

And what I once thought were the incredibly enjoyable "Davison Cup" tournaments I hosted for my birthday celebrations for several years, which provided not only a rare opportunity to play games together with friends in the same room for once, but also a chance to introduce them to things they might not have experienced before — things that were important to me, personally. These memories in particular are somewhat bittersweet now.

I miss being able to share these experiences. It's not one single thing that has left me feeling so lonely and friendless; it is a veritable mountain of causes — some external, some internal, some self-inflicted, some caused by others, some caused by the general direction society (and the way in which we interact with one another) has moved in the last 30 years. All I really know is that I don't like it — and part of the reason I continue to write about the things I love and the things that are important to me, both here and on MoeGamer, is in the vain hope that it might provide even a hint of those personal connections I used to enjoy and appreciate on a daily basis.

It all feels a long time ago now, and I'm very tired, and I'm hurt. I don't even really want to play Big Walk all that much. It'd just be nice to feel like I had the option.

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#oneaday Day 778: That feeling you should be doing something

I'm having one of those days where my brain feels restless, where it feels like I "should" be doing something, but as far as I am aware, I have no commitments this weekend whatsoever, so I should just be taking the time to relax, enjoy myself and mentally prepare for the week ahead. (There's nothing particularly special about the week ahead, either, just the weekend is generally a good time to mentally prepare yourself for actually having to do things for, like, your job and stuff.)

I'm unsure where this particular anxiety stems from, but it's not an altogether uncommon phenomenon. It seems it is most frequently associated with ADHD, which I have not been formally diagnosed with, but which from talking to people who do have it, I recognise a lot of the things they mention — much like I did with autism before I went and got myself diagnosed. I'm not in any great hurry to get myself diagnosed in that regard, though I suspect, as with the autism diagnosis, that having it confirmed (or otherwise) might help me to think about my own brain in a more helpful way.

But regardless! That doesn't fix the immediate issue, which is my brain is currently doing somersaults wondering what I should actually do today. And it's not as if I have a shortage of options. I could play some Final Fantasy XI, now I am into the Treasures of Aht Urhgan expansion. I could play some Terranigma, which I started the other day and enjoyed a lot. I could play some Splatoon Raiders, which I am also having fun with. I could record a voiceover for my Illusion of Time video and then edit said video now that I have learned the basics of DaVinci Resolve. I could even record some voiceovers for some work videos and get those out of the way if I really wanted to.

Or I could do something completely different. I could actually leave the house for some reason, perhaps pay a visit to CEX in town and see if they have anything interesting. I could go for a walk on the common (although I feel like the exact time I'm typing this is probably not the best time to do that, given how hot and humid it appears to be outside, so I will probably save that for later). I could pull down a random game from the shelf and give that a go. I could do some creative writing. I could write about a game I've been playing recently. I could record some Let's Play-style videos (again, I think it might be a bit too hot to do that right now). I could learn what "colour grading" is. I could practice some Japanese.

This is the problem, y'see. The problem is not that I have nothing to do, it's that I have a lot of options for what I could do, and pretty much all of them would be enjoyable and/or fulfilling in some way. One might say that this means it doesn't really matter which one of them I pick, as I will be having an enjoyable and fulfilling experience regardless. But for some reason, when this sort of mental block strikes, it doesn't quite work like that; my brain starts to feel genuine anxiety over whether or not I am picking the "correct" or "best" option, whatever that means — and there really is no "correct" or "best" option here. There is nothing I have to do; there is nothing that will make my life significantly better or worse if I do or don't do it. So all I need to do is just… pick something.

My intent was to follow that paragraph with something along the lines of "So I'm off to go and… [x]". But as I went to type that, my brain started a tug-of-war process with itself, still worrying over whether or not I was making the right choice. So I'm going to set myself a firm but friendly ultimatum — without being aggressive or sergeant-majorish about it — and say that by the time I finish writing this paragraph, I will have made a decision of what to do for the immediate now, not necessarily the whole day, but for the period immediately following completing this paragraph. Whenever I finish this paragraph. I am absolutely, positively, definitely not stalling for time while I attempt to get my mind in order. Definitely not. Perish the thought! Who would do something like that, even? That's ridiculous. I can absolutely, definitely make a decision on what Nice Thing I would like to do today.

I'm going to go and play Terranigma for a bit. Then we'll see what happens from there.

There, see, that wasn't so hard, was it?

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#oneaday Day 630: Mr Cellophane

Cellophane, Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name, Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there

(Mister Cellophane by John C. Reilly, from the musical "Chicago")

I don't wish the following to sound like self-pitying or a cry for attention, but it will almost certainly come out that way, and for this I apologise in advance.

Do you ever have days where you feel like you're "invisible"? Like, if you just weren't there, no-one would notice? I seem to be feeling this a lot more as I get older, but it's something that has always followed along with me to one degree or another.

As young as my teenage years, I remember, on several occasions, feeling like I wasn't sure if my friends really liked me, or if they were just putting up with me as a sort of "attachment" to one of their other friends. Given the oddly volatile nature of hormonal adolescent friendships, this is perhaps not a surprising way for someone to feel — I recall multiple other occasions where, for one reason or another, several of us who were, under normal circumstances, best friends, suddenly just… weren't any more for a little while. This normally only lasted a day or two, and it usually involved the one who instigated the temporary "split" trying to get "in" with some of the cooler kids. I don't recall any occasions where something like this resulted in a member of our mutual circle of friends completely abandoning us, but it is this sort of thing that made me uneasy and anxious at times.

At university, I had friends and acquaintances I attended my course with, but again, there were times where I felt like if I just wasn't there, nobody would really give a shit.

A lot of this stems from what I now know to be social anxiety caused by autism, but that unfortunately doesn't make it much easier to deal with — because I still feel this sort of thing to this day. I find it difficult to "maintain" relationships because I get overly worried about being a bother to someone who, in my mind, I have built up to be someone who resents my presence. And, on occasions where I feel like I have been someone who has been making that effort, it's hard not to feel rejected when the other parties involved aren't as interested in maintaining the relationships as you are.

The reason I'm talking about this today is because, once again, a video game site has been suffering layoffs — this time the long-established Eurogamer. And as the various people announced that they were no longer working there, and that they were looking for employment, lots of other people piped up and said how important their time together had been, how much they enjoyed working together, what fond memories they had of various projects they collaborated on.

I saw that and I felt painfully conscious that, when my career in the games press came to an unceremonious end, I didn't really feel like any of that happened for me. I feel like very few people really noticed my time on USgamer, let alone GamePro before that, and very few people spoke up for me to say that they had enjoyed my work. I certainly didn't get a string of adulation from former colleagues waxing poetic about past collaborations. And all that kind of hurt, frankly; I had made that site my life for the time I was there, and I was immensely proud of all that I had done. And yet when people look back on USgamer's existence now, I'm not even a footnote; I doubt anyone other than the few people who did regularly read my work there — most of whom are still online friends, I should add — would even be able to tell you that I was a founding member of the site.

I feel this under other circumstances, too. There are several Discords I'm a member of where I feel like my presence and existence is often forgotten about. I don't really have an online community that I feel like I can call "home" any more, and that is, I think, where a lot of this stems from; it's that age-old fear that, if you were to drop dead tomorrow, no-one would notice or care. (My wife, at least, would. Hopefully.)

And I don't really know how to "fix" this. As I say, my social anxiety makes it very difficult for me to step up and say "hey, hello, please pay attention to me" without feeling like I'm inconveniencing or annoying people, and as such, I continue to just sort of quietly exist in the hope that I don't get forgotten entirely.

If you're reading this, none of the above applies to you. I am grateful for your presence, your support and your friendship — because if you are reading this at this point, you are someone who is present in my life; you are someone who has, in one way or another, supported me at some point over the years; and you are someone that I'm happy to call a friend. I thank you, sincerely, from not letting me become completely invisible to the world at large.

And perhaps I should be content with that.

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#oneaday Day 303: Uhoh, new hyperfixation

The thing with being autistic, I have both been led to believe and experienced first-hand, is that every so often you get a Great Idea in your head about something you are going to be Into. Sometimes these Things That You Are Now Into stick around and become long-term hobbies and interests, at other times they fall by the wayside. But in my experience, they're usually worth following along with for at least a little while, unless they involve a major uprooting of your entire life. Which they usually don't.

While at the Portsmouth Anime and Gaming Con yesterday, our friend Dan spoke a little about collecting stickers. For some reason, Dan's enthusing about this tripped something in my brain, which suddenly and uncontrollably exploded with a chorus of "I want to be into collecting stickers!".

I actually used to be into collecting stickers when I was a kid. For two separate years, I collected stickers for the Panini sticker album themed around The Beano, and I used to swap stickers with my friend Joanna. Joanna herself is probably a story for another day — and one that, for once, I don't think I've actually told here previously — but all you need to know for now is that we were both pretty avid Beano sticker collectors, but I don't think either of us ever actually completed one of those albums 100%.

Panini stickers were, of course, one of the original "booster packs", and doubtless our parents grit their respective teeth any time we asked for a pack of stickers to go in our albums, particularly if a significant number of them ended up being duplicates of ones we already had. But it was a fun thing to do as a child, and an opportunity to socialise, too; I don't remember anyone else collecting Beano stickers, but I always enjoyed the chance to spend some time with Joanna. As I say, though, story for another day.

So anyway, with that in mind, my brain decided that Now I'm Into Stickers, so I immediately took the opportunity to wander off and buy a few packs of stickers that had caught my eye earlier. And, today, I dug out one of the lovely "journal"-style notebooks I've had in my drawer for ages but never really done anything with, and I started sticking stickers in it. Not only did I stick the stickers I bought yesterday in it, but I stuck some stickers I've had hanging around for ages in there, too; I had, up until this point, resisted sticking them anywhere because I was worried about the "permanence" of whatever I might have stuck them on.

This is actually something that Dan expressed yesterday, too, and thus my immediate solution was to stick them in a book. What's more permanent than a book! Unless you throw it away, obviously. But I'm not planning on throwing this away any time soon.

Anyway, do you want to see? Of course you do. Here:

I like doing title pages in the style of Victorian novels. I have done this for many years now, and I have no intention of stopping.

On the first page, a Neptunia sticker that's been floating around various rooms in my house since Neptunia Game Maker R:Evolution showed up. I finally stuck it in something. So to speak. On the second, one of the first batches of stickers we did as a bonus extra in Evercade cartridges: a selection of sprites and artwork from Indie Heroes Collection 1, a compilation of "modern retro" games made by today's indie developers for vintage systems.

On the next page, some stickers from Piko Interactive Collection 2 for Evercade, which technically came out before Indie Heroes Collection 1 and thus was the trigger for me to add the "in no particular order" caveat to the title page of this volume. On the following page, a selection of stickers from the Goodboy Galaxy/Witch n' Wiz dual cartridge for Evercade, focusing on the former game. If you've never played Goodboy Galaxy I highly recommend it; it's an excellent exploratory platformer.

Then we have the stickers that came with Toaplan Arcade 3 and Data East Arcade 2 for Evercade, mostly based on the original cabinet or marquee art for these games.

And the same deal for these stickers, from Toaplan Arcade 4 and Atari Arcade 2.

Then a bumper crop of stickers from the Strictly Limited Games release of Sisters Royale, a shoot 'em up by the folks who made the Castle of Shikigami series. A lot of folks have beef with Strictly Limited for the amount of time they take to make their physical editions of games — I have some orders that have been outstanding for multiple years — but they always come through eventually. Their special editions are some of the highest quality but most affordable special editions I have on my shelves.

A bit of overflow of Sisters Royale stickers here, plus the first of the sticker packs I bought yesterday from the Portsmouth Anime and Gaming Con. This "Pretty Girls Sticker Pack" is by an art studio called Kumigaki.

And finally, for now, anyway, a few Final Fantasy VII-themed stickers I nabbed from a local outfit known as Taroball Studios.

So there we go. Stickers! And none of the dissatisfaction with empty spaces you got with Panini albums. I wonder if I'll ever fill this book? Only one way to find out!

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#oneaday Day 246: They don't tell you anything

One thing I have been gradually coming to realise — or perhaps more accurately, accept — since I was diagnosed with an autistic spectrum disorder in (checks) 2017 is that… you seemingly don't get any help. At least not by default. I probably could get some help if I went and asked for it, but I sort of feel like being diagnosed with a condition should probably be some sort of automatic trigger for someone to get help, or at the very least, advice.

But no. While I am glad I got my diagnosis as it helps me understand a bunch of things about myself that I had always been a tad frustrated by in the past, there is still a whole lot that I don't know — and if I hadn't specifically gone looking for the information myself, I probably wouldn't have found out.

Now, I'm kind of hesitant to do this, because I simply don't trust the Internet at large to provide reliable medical advice these days, but there are sources that, one would hope, set themselves up to be reputable and authoritative, so if I do go looking for information, I seek out those sources wherever possible.

One thing I learned about today is known as a "shutdown" or, to some, an "autistic implosion". This is where an autistic person, when confronted with an uncomfortable situation, a high level or stress or overstimulation in general, closes themselves off, puts their shields up and seemingly becomes quite non-responsive in terms of interpersonal interactions, emotions and suchlike.

I've been aware that I do this for a long time — up to and including very recently — but it had never really occurred to me that it, too, is a symptom of being on the spectrum. But sure enough, as I read this piece from an Australian autism charity earlier — one of those sources that I judged to (hopefully) be reputable — I found myself recognising more and more things, including behaviours that I had engaged in long before I knew that I was autistic.

Experiencing a shutdown is very strange, because you're often conscious that you're doing it. You're aware that everything is becoming too much, but rather than wanting to lash out at it (which leads to the opposite, but equally possible, reaction known as a meltdown) you just want to… retreat. Hide. Get out of there as soon as possible.

And this reaction, this desire to flee the situation I was in… that is all too familiar. I'm pretty sure this also ties in with the bouts of depression I have where I just feel like I'm suspended in a bubble, barely aware of anything that is going on around me, only half-conscious of the fact that I'm just staring into space, my mind constantly going around and around and around the same thing over and over, even though doing so is what is driving me deeper into that shutdown.

I kind of wish that, having been diagnosed, I could have had some proper time with a therapist who knows and understands autism, who could explain the various situations and behaviours that I'm likely to encounter and be more conscious of, now I better know who I am — and perhaps how to cope with them. Because there's no "curing" these situations; it's just part of the person I am. But there are ways to manage my environment and the situation I'm in to make them less likely to happen — and to cope with them more effectively when they do arise.

Perhaps it's time to bite the bullet and seek out some sort of private therapy. Two things have, up until now, discouraged me from doing that, though: the cost, and the choice paralysis that comes with deciding exactly who would be an appropriate therapist for me. Because it turns out there are a lot of them. I've also not really been sure what I'm looking for when seeking a therapist — but I think today's revelations are telling me that what I should really be seeking out is exactly what I describe above: someone who knows about and understands autism, and who can help me understand the behaviours and feelings I'm likely to experience, and suggest some ways to manage and cope with them.

Food for thought. I will mull it over.

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#oneaday Day 204: What it means to be "on the spectrum"

I saw one of those "online autism spectrum disorder" tests going around on Bluesky earlier, so I decided to take it. I already know that I'm autistic, but the interesting thing about this test is that it promised a certain degree of granularity about the different contributing aspects of autistic spectrum conditions, and I thought it might be interesting to discuss a bit.

First of all, here's my result. I will add a disclaimer to this that online tests like this are not a substitute for getting actually diagnosed by a professional, but the questions used in tests like this are much like the ones you'll be asked if and when you are professionally diagnosed. Basically, use things like this as a guide to determine whether or not you might want to seek additional information, not as a diagnosis in themselves.

Fixations and Restricted Interests

These are both areas that I scored highly on, and this will not be surprising to anyone who knows me. My interests are relatively limited in scope — writing, video games and music — but I enjoy each of them deeply. When I involve myself in them, they are the things I focus on, and there are times when I'm not able to indulge at least one of those interests that I start feeling restless.

The obvious benefit of fixations and a limited spectrum of interests is that they are comforting and familiar — a good place to "retreat" to when things get difficult. But they can also make one prone to being inflexible and not open to new experiences.

I don't think I'm particularly closed to new experiences per se, but particularly in more recent years, I have found my existing interests to be of increasing comfort — and frustrating when others that I care about don't seem to share my passion and enthusiasm for them.

Flat Speech

This is one I didn't score particularly highly on as I believe it's something that I've actually worked on and improved in more recent years — my work on YouTube in particular has been a key part of that.

But I recognise that there are situations where I don't feel comfortable "letting loose" or showing exaggerated emotions, even if I'm actually feeling those things. I guess that falls into this category, too, and it's something I've always found a bit difficult.

I think part of it is a self-perception thing; I see the potential me reacting in various ways and thinking that people will mock me for it — or, at the very least, tell other people how I reacted, and I don't like it when people talk about me like that. It's hard to pin down why I feel that way — surely it's nice for someone to hear when someone they know was happy? — but I've always felt that way. And thus it's just sort of easier to… not react in a particularly strong way.

Noise Sensitivity

This is something that has definitely gotten worse in more recent years. I talked recently about how the venues for my work Christmas party were much too loud for me to cope with, and my extreme-feeling reactions to that are definitely a recent issue, as I used to go out to noisy clubs and bars with friends all the time when I was a bit younger.

For me, I don't think it's so much the noise itself that bothers me, more that the noise makes doing other things — such as having a conversation with someone — difficult. There are few social situations I enjoy less than having a yelled conversation with someone sitting right next to me and having to ask them to repeat themselves multiple times. It makes me feel inordinately self-conscious and want to nope out of that conversation as quickly as possible.

Elsewhere in the world of noise sensitivity, I feel like I've always been able to hear some things that others couldn't. I could always hear CRT whine when other people around me couldn't, for example, and I often pick out sounds that Andie can't hear. Part of this is doubtless down to my musical training — I can easily pick out individual lines in an ensemble piece, for example — but it's also partly the condition talking.

Social Difficulty

Probably my biggest bugbear. I do not remember how to make friends, and I have had tremendous trouble holding on to friends as time has gone by. Self-confidence issues relating to my body image have exacerbated this problem considerably in the last 5 years or so, too, though they have always been present to an extent.

There's not a lot more I can say about this, really. I don't dislike socialising with people, but I like it to be in a situation where I feel in control of my part in the situation — and free to leave, if need be — and can actually hear what's going on.

Anxiety

Yep. Perpetual worrying has only gotten worse as time has gone on. In retrospect, I have suffered this for many years of my life, probably from childhood onwards, but it's been a particular problem in my adult life. I had a nervous breakdown during my teaching career, I have traumatic flashbacks to various events in my life I'd rather not recall and sometimes my brain just panics for no real reason.

Motor Issues

I wouldn't say this is a major problem for me, but I am quite clumsy and always have been, and during childhood I was believed to be dyspraxic. I even had one of those funny rubber pen holder things that would supposedly make me hold it properly.

I don't particularly struggle with day-to-day getting around and stuff, and there are elements of precision — like playing a musical instrument, say — where I'm absolutely fine, but it doesn't surprise me that this is a consideration when talking about autistic spectrum disorders.

Eye Contact Issues

Ties in with the social stuff. I'm not always at ease even when having a conversation with someone I like and am close to, and I will often avoid eye contact. I can feel myself doing it, and I am also very conscious of other people using eye contact in ways that are different to me, such as maintaining eye contact or continuing to look at someone even when not actively addressing them.

Tics, Fidgets and Repetitive Behaviours

These came out surprisingly high. I'm not someone who rocks back and forth or makes repetitive noises or anything like that, but there are little things I do when I'm anxious (or bored), such as fiddling with my beard. I can't say that they're conscious coping mechanisms that I deliberately do, but I occasionally notice myself falling into these habits.

Aggression

I'm generally not a super-angry person, or I try not to be anyway, but when things go unexpectedly wrong I sometimes react with what would probably be considered a disproportionate amount of upset or frustration. I am especially susceptible to demonstrating aggressive tendencies if my routines or fixations are disturbed somehow, but it's more common that I'll feel anxiety or depression rather than anger.

Depression

"Individuals with ASD may experience feelings of isolation, sadness and hopelessness."

Tick, tick and tick.

So that's that. If you want to take the test yourself, you can find it here. If you do take it, please bear in mind my disclaimer above!

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#oneaday Day 172: Things you're not allowed to pretend you were the first to think of any more

Christmas is coming, and that means yet another year of people who think they are absolutely hilarious for informing you of their sudden revelation that Die Hard is a Christmas movie. Societal norms dictate that you are supposed to laugh at this, pretend you've never heard it before and explain, incredulously, that "it really is, isn't it?" or something along those lines.

As an autistic person, I have the regrettable tendency to spot patterns in everyfuckingthing, particularly human interactions. And, doubly regrettably, I find predictable patterns in human interaction oddly infuriating. One would think these patterns would make communicating with one another easier, particularly for one with the social anxiety that so often goes along with autism.

But no; somehow, I have transcended these "easy wins" of polite conversation and crossed over into the territory where I can see these mindless, predictable exchanges as being utterly meaningless, devoid of any real connection between the participants, instead just relying on quoting something other people have said a million bajillion katillion times over already.

I think my distaste from this at least partly stems from someone I knew at university who, in retrospect, was probably also autistic, as his sole contribution to conversations on numerous occasions was to repeatedly and relentlessly quote Blackadder, devoid of any context whatsoever. It wore me down so much over the course of four years that I was not able to even contemplate watching Blackadder for a good long while afterwards.

It's not just that, though, as I'm sure even a non-autistic person can understand how that would become exceedingly annoying over the course of four years. I think the thing that frustrates me more than anything is how I'm sure everyone involved in the conversation about how Lisa from Accounts "can't deal with the word 'moist'" knows that, in fact, Lisa from Accounts really has no strong feelings about the word "moist" and is instead simply parroting something she heard someone else say that she found quite amusing, perhaps in the hope that someone she likes might flirtatiously start using the word "moist" around her more, giving her ample opportunity to do that thing where people go "oh, no, stop, you big silly" and push someone away while laughing, when they actually just want to shag them.

Or something. I don't know. The very prospect of behaving like that has always annoyed me sufficiently that I never attempted to carry it through to potential shag territory.

It's the insincerity of it that bugs me, I think. It's the very worst kind of small talk; supposed "communication" that is doing nothing but fill silences, but nothing of any real substance is being discussed. People aren't actually getting to know one another or improving their relationships with one another when they have the "pineapple on pizza is weird, isn't it?" discussion; they're simply reading from the hymn sheet in a vain attempt to make themselves look Funny and Cool, because as everyone really tries to drum into you while you're growing up, Having A Good Sense of Humour is the most important character trait anyone can develop, regardless of situation.

I do not, at this point, wish to imply that I am devoid of a good sense of humour. In fact, I have a fucking excellent sense of humour, thank you very much. Well, okay, I still have pretty much the same sense of humour I did when I was 15 years old, which means I still find farts hilarious, but at least when you let out a particularly salty grunt in front of friends, family or colleagues, you're taking a bit of a risk under most circumstances. You're putting yourself out there (quite literally, in terms of gaseous emissions) and, effectively, saying "this is something I find funny" without resorting to material that Michael McIntyre might find "a bit tired".

Of course, I appreciate that there are doubtless plenty of you out there who think a rancid bottom-burp is the absolute worst thing someone can do in polite company. And that's fine, too. There are plenty of people I wouldn't (voluntarily) let off a trouser-trumpet in front of because, despite the autism, I know that it's not a good idea.

But even so. A fruity guff is something you've made yourself, rather than stolen from wherever these inane non-discussions came from in the first place. And thus, if you want to be pals with me, I'd much rather you let rip with a thunderous eggy woofter than even think about telling me how funny it is that Die Hard is "technically" a Christmas movie.

Parp.

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#oneaday Day 67: The pleasure of organisation

Ahead of the new piano arriving on Friday, we bought a new filing cabinet. The idea was to replace the clapped-out old bookshelf we have in the back room that currently holds my music books, and to just generally tidy up that back room a bit now that there's going to be a nice shiny piano in there.

I derive quite a bit of pleasure from organisation. I often have a bit (all right, a lot) of trouble actually getting started, but once I do, I find it immensely satisfying to put everything into place, sort things into alphabetical order and know that everything has a "right place" to put things into. By the same token, our larder cupboard in our kitchen drives me nuts because it's a chaotic bomb site of a cupboard, where you take your life into your own hands any time you attempt to extract something from it without causing an avalanche of baking materials, cereal and cat food.

I know exactly why I derive such pleasure from organisation, of course; it is doubtless to do with the autism, what with one of the key characteristics of those of us On The Spectrum being an appreciation for orderliness, routines, patterns and suchlike. Even better if said orderliness is all your own work rather than a structure built by someone else that you're having to adapt to.

Going through the music books was nice for another reason: it made me realise that I have a lot of them, and there's a fair old chunk of music in them that I've just never played. For the most part, the music books I own fall into two categories: those which I acquired while I was actively having piano tuition, which are mostly "classical" books from historical art music composers; and those which I have acquired in more recent years, which tend to be piano arrangements of soundtracks from video games and anime that I particularly appreciate. I've been playing a lot more of the latter in more recent years, but with the new piano it might be time to revisit (or explore further) into the other stuff.

The reason why I own so much stuff and haven't played a lot of it is simple: when learning stuff while having piano tuition, my teachers would often suggest a piece of music to learn, which was only available as part of a larger book, usually of a single composer's work. So for example when I learned how to play Liszt's Consolation No. 3, I also acquired a book of other short piano pieces by Liszt (including, among other things, the other Consolations). When I learned a Mozart sonata, I then had access to all the Mozart sonatas because while you can buy some of these pieces as individual sheet music, it's generally more worthwhile in the long term to buy "The Complete Mozart Sonatas" or equivalent.

So I've got a lot of stuff to explore once the new piano gets here. I'm going to have to get back into the habit of playing more frequently, but I suspect with a decent-quality instrument readily available, that won't be too much of an ordeal. Getting myself back up to the standard I was once at might take a bit more work, but I'm sure it'll be worth it as another means of expressing and enjoying myself if nothing else.

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