Explanations

I realize that I've jumped into this without much of an introduction or explanation of who I am, so I feel that I owe it to anybody reading to explain some stuff.

First, the title, Prelude to Parting. I'm not good at coming up with names. I never have been and never will be. I am simply not creative in that way. So you don't need to read too deeply into the title of this blog. But it does have some meaning. It could be said that when we die, we part from this world, and that the life we live is the prelude to whatever comes afterward. This blog could also be seen as a way for me to muddle through the various exploits of my life and make sense of everything. In a year or two, I will hopefully understand myself better and will have parted with the imperfect self that exists now. Though it will only be replaced with a slightly less imperfect self, I suppose.

Second, the name I use, Nicomachus. I have never used this name before, and I may never use it for anything else. I want this blog to be anonymous, with a few select people knowing who I really am, to protect myself but mostly to protect whoever I may mention in it. In some of the stories I plan to eventually tell, I must reveal intimate details about people I've known, in order to reveal information about myself. There is no way around it, but I do not wish to make it easy for people, such as high school classmates, to know the personal secrets of the people I mention.

I took the name Nicomachus from Aristotle's son, for whom his Nicomachean Ethics was written. The book taught me a lot and has greatly influenced my life. Without it, I would understand friendship even less than I do now, and I would still be chasing imperfect and flawed friendships which would do nothing but make me unhappy in the end. It is a book that contains lessons everything should learn, and if I had my way, a simplified and condensed version would be mandatory for every child.

Third, who I am. I am in my mid-20s, stuck between feeling old and feeling young. I am mature and knowledgeable and wise, though I am not boasting. I have learned what life has taught me. Unfortunately, there is still a lot more for life to say. I feel old when talking to some of my acquaintances, who worry about infantile things such as being able to get drunk on the weekend, how great an upcoming rave or convention is going to be, and how exciting the latest action movie looks, without worrying about where they'll be in five years or what it's like to be dirt poor or how crippling personal issues can be. Yet I feel young when talking to others, who despite being years younger than me already have families, a husband or wife or fiance or fiancee to comfort and support them, a child or children to raise and nurture. Time is passing me by, and I have nothing to show for it, but I am many years to accomplish something (hopefully). I don't know whether to feel optimistic or pessimistic.

I have Asperger's, which is a form of autism. I'm big on that, that it is autism. I may be very different from the kids that never speak to others, but in some ways, I am the same. I live inside my head, and in a lot of ways, I cannot leave the castle that stands there. I talk to other people, I can even be open and reveal my innermost thoughts, and I can love and accept love from others, but in the end, my mind is always where I return. When I was in elementary school, people always thought I was trying to sleep on the bus, particularly during field trips. They'd see me with my eyes closed and say, "Look, Nicomachus is sleeping." Sometimes I would open my eyes and tell them in a disgruntled tone that I wasn't. Other times, I would say nothing and let them think that I was. But it is hard for me to sleep around other people and often impossible. If I close my eyes around people, it's to go to my castle. It's comforting, I suppose, but I don't do it for comfort. That's my home. Without the distractions of the world, of other people and automobiles and scenery and the noise that comes with it all. With my eyes closed and my body shut off, I am who I am. Only then, and never at any other time.

I have Asperger's; I have problems. Some of the problems exist because I have Asperger's, but some don't. It is hard to tell which is which, so I often don't try. I relate to other people with Asperger's, and when another Aspie and I do or feel something similar, I feel good, like I'm not alone in the world. Some Aspies have weird eating habits, like I do. Some Aspies don't drive, and neither do I. Some Aspies can't handle working a regular job, and I couldn't either. It's a connection, one I get nowhere else in my life. Asperger's affects the core of my being. It's not about the hobbies I indulge in, the shows I like to watch or the books I like to read. It's about simple things, living life, and getting by. What I can and can't handle. Even if I share no interests with an Aspie, even if we like vastly different kinds of TV shows and crave different things from life, there is still a connection there, because we suffer some of the same problems and are simply unable to do some of the things other people take for granted. Realizing that I had Asperger's is one of the best things that has ever happened in my life, because even if I had never heard the term or never looked into it, I would still have it. I would still be who I am, only more alone and confused as to why things were so much easier for everyone around me.

I'm not sure what the point of that last paragraph was, but I'm certain someone will find a use for it.

If there is any more info I need to share, please let me know. I'm never sure what to say about myself. Last night at work, I was asked by a supervisor who my three favorite comic book characters were, because I've worn several super hero shirts to work (they were very cheap and thin, good shirts to work in; that I liked what was on them was secondary). I didn't know how to reply. I remembered that Spider-Man was my favorite, and that made me want to say my other favorites were Venom and the Green Goblin, but I held back, thinking that he wanted heroes from different series. I stammered out Silver Surfer and the Hulk because they're standard answers, though I'm not crazy about them (though the Hulk was amazing in World War Hulk). When he asked me the question, I thought, "Why the hell does he want to know this? Does he like comic books or famous super heroes, or is he just making conversation, trying to build up a rapport with me?" I could have talked his ear off about Spider-Man and how much I love him, and how his villains are the best in the world, even better than Batman's, but I didn't know if he cared at all or if he even knew anything about Spider-Man. That's how I am - I assume people don't know or care about anything I have to say. People have to say something to me first, and if my answer is shallow, more questions are needed. I love to talk to people, especially about my interests, my thoughts, and my life, but I never think that anyone wants to hear it. I think that if I stay quiet, I'll be doing them a favor. They only asked to make me feel better, after all. Making me feel better is no reason to bore them.

Sometimes, I honestly don't know if I'm the one that's screwed up or if it's the world.