A matter of time (and space)

I've just been to see Gravity in the Hutt with the Meetup group. It's a "space thriller" starring Sandra Bullock and George Clooney. Being a Tuesday we were able to (affordably) sit in the deluxe lounge and see it in 3D. Even though I lay back in a reclining chair to watch it, I was on the edge of my seat. My muscles tensed up; it was like playing a video game and leaning into the corners. The distinct lack of characters was a big plus for me, and I like the way Sandra Bullock played the part of a strong woman. That movie really got into my head, in a good way (I hope). I'm glad I saw an earlyish showing, otherwise I probably wouldn't sleep tonight.

Today my boss informed me that I'd made a fairly significant cock-up. Back in May I'd loaded the same account details on two policies that were completely unrelated, except that I dealt with them at almost the same time. So someone has been paying for both (he's only just noticed that), and someone else has had free cover for seven months. Oops. I apologised several times. We'll have to refund the money to the bloke who has paid twice, and hopefully get some of the money out of the guy (or girl, I'm not sure which) who has paid nothing. I'm not at all surprised that I've made a mistake like this. I pick up a lot of my own mistakes before they become a problem; I've always wondered how many I must miss. I make so many notes and they save me so many times, but when I can't remember what I did a minute ago, this sort of thing is bound to happen. This error led my boss to have a bit of a "chat" about my performance, and how we can improve it in the new year. The chat wasn't that bad, but I didn't like that it was in full view of everybody. She's done this before (and worse) with other people, and I find it unprofessional and a bit embarrassing.

I'm not sure I can improve my performance, or that I'd want to. The end will come sooner or later, whatever I do. In this sort of job the nearest thing to a good outcome for me is avoiding bad ones, and I can only do that for so long.

Collecting

I stood in the cold on Lambton Quay for an hour and a half on Wednesday evening, trying to raise money for Autism NZ. There was plenty of foot traffic but the weather didn't help; people just wanted to get home. It was also hard to get noticed, unlike last year when we put up a stand at the entrance to New World. To my surprise two blokes each gave $20. I was the next biggest donor (a $10 note and a bunch of small change) but of the thousands of others who walked past me, only ten or so donated. If everyone had given just a dollar, what a difference it would have made. It can't help that so many people live cashless lives. I stood next to a bus stop for some of the time; bugger those Snapper cards.

I can't remember anything of Thursday except that after work I walked past a café that I hadn't really noticed before on the corner of Dixon Street and Courtenay Place. It has lots of old shabby furniture. I heard the latter half of what seemed like an amazing song blaring out of the speaker. The only lyrics I caught were "Jump On My Shoulders" which happens to be the title of the song. I Googled those lyrics after going to the gym. When I listened to the song (by a band called Awolnation) on YouTube it no longer seemed amazing, just reasonably good. I must download the Shazam app (which can identify songs as they're played) when I ... um ... get back to using my smart phone instead of my dumb one.

Last night I saw the Great Gatsby at the Embassy with the work social club. It's good for me when the social club organises a movie because I can participate without having to be very social. I read the book in 2009 and I can see why it's viewed as the great American novel. I didn't realise that F. Scott Fitzgerald was so damn young when he wrote it. The movie wasn't bad either but I preferred the book and I felt the movie was half an hour too long (one of my colleagues said two hours too long). They could have cut back a bit on Gatsby's use of "old sport". Visually it was quite spectacular though. After the film a few people, including my boss, wanted to extend their night out but it was an easy decision for me to go home.

I listened to bits (when I wasn't asleep) of last night's gripping semi-final between Nadal and Djokovic. The other three grand slams have produced all manner of great men's matches in recent times but this time it was Roland Garros's turn to come up with a real classic. It wasn't just the quality of play and closeness of the match, but the significance of the outcome. Luckily I woke up in time for the fifth set. During the most dramatic game of that set, which saw Djokovic broken for 4-4, the commentators did justice to the historical significance of it all. The crucial moment was perhaps when Djokovic touched the net to hand Nadal a break point in that vital eighth game, but it's easy to single out individual moments. Had Nadal served out the match at 6-5 in the fourth set, all those "crucial turning points" in the fifth would never have happened. With a staggering record at Roland-Garros (58 wins and only one loss), Nadal must be a fairly heavy favourite to win a record eighth title.

Just a sniff...

Since I last posted there has been a development with my puzzles, provoking an unusually high level of excitement in me. There's the faintest sniff of a possibility that this development could substantially alter my life, hence the excitement.

I didn't go to the autism group last night. I'd made up my mind not to go, and emailed Tracy the night before, then she texted me at half-five yesterday trying to convince me to change my mind: her dad would be there, he didn't really know what Aspies were like, and apparently I'd balance out some of the more extreme personalities on show. She failed to convince me. I went to see Against the Wind, quite a sad French movie, at the Paramount instead.

I saw Die Hard 5 with the depression group on Saturday. The movie didn't do it for me. It was good to catch up with some people though.

Julie is having an operation on Thursday, the first of two days I'm taking off from work. I'll be picking her up from her rest home at 6:30am to take her to hospital. She's hardly in the best physical condition to have the surgery but doesn't feel she's got much to lose. I'll then be going to see the opening day of the second cricket test between NZ and England at the Basin. I'm not a huge cricket fan (I've never seen live test cricket before) but because it's this particular match-up, and right on my doorstep, I feel almost obliged to go. One complaint I hear a lot regarding test cricket is "it's too long". Well yes, in the third millennium, with all our busy lives, who can afford to sit through all five days of a test match? But my answer to that is, who says you have to watch the whole thing? It's a story; what's wrong with dipping in and out, like you might do with Coronation Street? Miss an episode or two, you can catch up later. The times I've most enjoyed following test cricket have been listening to radio commentary (which can be brilliant) while doing something else.

I've been thinking about the bloke from the autism group who came round to my flat twice. Why did I find him hard work? I think it's pretty simple: very little warmth radiates from him. That must make it very hard for him to form relationships. It's not an uncommon trait in Aspies of course (some of whom do have relationships and even children) but it's by no means universal; Richard is a good counterexample.

I'll miss Richard when I fly up to Auckland after the cricket. He's going down to Rotorua for his sister's 40th birthday; he gets on well with her and should have a good time. I'll be attending the autism group on Saturday and catching up with one of the facilitators beforehand. Apart from that, my weekend is unplanned as yet.

The sun sets on another year

Another year is almost over. It hasn't been an easy one. My grandmother sadly passed away in January. The next month my job went rapidly south, as did the state of my mental health, almost as I moved into my flat. Moving out of my role in to a less stressful one was the best thing I did this year, even if it meant a severe cut in pay.

On Boxing Day I saw the Hobbit with my parents at the cinema in Geraldine. It's always a novelty to see a film there, even though I've done so a few times now. You get sofas to sit on, a mirror ball and an interval. I was really tired but it was a worthwhile watch. My only criticism was that Bilbo (Martin Freeman) seemed too human. I'm thinking of seeing A Life of Pi but the book was so damn good that I'd be worried that the film might spoil it.

I recently finished reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road. It was grim stuff, but certainly a captivating grim. I was puzzled a bit by the author's stylistic punctuation, or rather the lack of it. Apostrophes were removed from all contractions ending in -n't, e.g. cant or doesnt, and a lot of two-word phrases were fused together as a single word. The world had been reduced to its bare bones, so perhaps he was trying to replicate that barrenness on the page.

Mum has two female friends over from Australia. Their arrival (earlier today) has come at an inopportune time; Mum's stress levels have been off the scale.

Some top-class darts again this morning's semi-finals. Michael van Gerwen, who survived two match darts and a tie-break in his quarter-final, hit a nine-darter and had a dart for another perfect leg immediately afterwards. When I used to follow the game in my teens, nine-darters were so rare as to be almost mythical.

I'm about to go into Timaru with my brother to see in 2013 on Caroline Bay. The highlight of this holiday for me has undoubtedly been all the time I've spent with my brother. We get on really well.

Being a numbers geek, I note that the coming year will be the first for 26 years to consist of four different digits.

29 degrees but an ice-cold Christmas

Unfortunately all the tension between my brother and his partner has cast a shadow over what was supposed to be a family Christmas.

On Christmas morning we had bacon and eggs for breakfast, followed by champagne which I needed like a hole in the head. Mum made a wonderful dinner; as usual I ate too much. We watched Mary Poppins and the brilliant Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The temperature reached 29 degrees but at least we could switch on the air con. No such luck when we visited my uncle and aunt's place in Woodbury that evening - I sweated like a pig. My brother's partner didn't go, saying she was sick. She probably did have a slight upset tummy (I don't think the drink helped) but she'd already made up her mind hours earlier that she wasn't going. That night the engaged couple (ha!) had an argument and at 2:30am she sped off back to Rolleston in her company car. Since then she's been texting and phoning my brother incessantly. She's also been sending long eloquent emails to Mum, giving her side of the story. She'll be coming over soon to pick him up; they've booked an expensive whale-watching tour at Kaikoura. I'm hoping they call it off after that.

Last Tuesday - that's the 20th - I played a freeroll poker tournament at the Realm in Hataitai. I found it stressful, I found it gimmicky, I felt out of place, I didn't play well and I didn't last long. Martin never turned up.

I saw The Intouchables with Tracy (along with only six other people) last Thursday. I organised it - that's a rarity for me. It was a damn good film. She can speak good French so we were able to compare notes about how they decided to translate this or that in the subtitles. We had a chat after the film over a meal (of sorts - she has so many weird and wonderful food allergies). She gets tired easily as a result of her thyroid problem so we didn't stay long, but I felt there was at least the possibility of something happening between her and me. Since then she hasn't contacted me at all, but she's a bit like that so I'm not giving up completely. Not yet anyway.

I was glad to finish work on Friday. It hadn't been an easy week with people seemingly still on a high from the Christmas party. The next day I went to the zoo - for the first time since I was a kid - with some people from the depression group. They take far better care of the animals than in the virtual freak shows I remember from years ago. Here are two chimpanzees with their arms out for food, a tamarin (which I always want to spell with a D) and a pair of gibbons (males are black, females are white):

Bond and bowling

I've now played my last hand of online poker for what I hope is a very long time, and it feels pretty good. I've been wondering what the big draw card, so to speak, of online poker was in the first place. I can't say I got a thrill from it. It was mentally stimulating however, it felt "safe" because the rules never changed and made sense, and I never had to deal with real people. Plus it was a means of escape. But I've finally had enough of staring at a screen. I'm just about to cash out all my money, but how will I spend it? I've got enough for a pretty decent holiday, so I'm thinking I might go somewhere in May or June. Vegas?! Watch this space.

Last Wednesday we had the fortnightly depression group, which was made harder for me when one of my work colleagues turned up. Even in Wellington, which can be almost villagey at times, you'd get fairly long odds on that. Even though her desk is within twenty feet of mine, I don't know her that well. She's a large lady (about my height and considerably broader); she broke her arm at that work event (I'm guessing alcohol was a factor) and hasn't been in the office since. She was talked about yesterday - her ears would have been burning. Anyway, it almost defeats the object of a group when feel you can't talk openly.

On Wednesday we had all the Hobbit hysteria in Wellington (seeing that Hobbitised 777 flying over town at low altitude was impressive I must say), on Thursday I had lunch with Tracy, then on Friday I saw Skyfall, the latest Bond movie, with people from work. I don't find socialising with work people easy, but seeing a movie with them I can just about handle. We saw it in the Gold Lounge where we could lay back on Lazyboy-style chairs. The film was pretty decent I thought, a huge improvement on Quantum of Solace.

On Saturday I played my final hands of online poker, then on Sunday met up with three members of the depression group in Petone to try Laser Strike (i.e. a version of paintball that still allows you to walk afterwards), but that was all booked out so we did bowling instead. We played two games. My very first ball landed in the gutter but I recovered to post a solid 125 in the first game. Then, at the half-way stage of the second game my scorecard looked like this: 9/ X X X 9/. Sheesh. Breaking 200 was a serious possibility. But I basically crashed and burned in the second half to shoot a 159. I've always had reasonable accuracy without any style, technique or speed to speak of. And I haven't played that much, except for a spell in Peterborough when I played weekly; my highest score was 191 and I once broke 500 for three games. I don't think it's a game I could really get into seriously - it's all a bit brash and American.

Ash, dash and crash

I saw The Amazing Spiderman tonight with people from the autism group. The movie exceeded my expectations which weren't all that high. It was over the top in places with all those cops and countdowns, and I think they made Peter Parker too cool, but I couldn't complain. We'd planned to see the Batman movie instead but there was some mix-up with the times.

Last night I went to the group, having missed the previous two sessions. Now that the turnout is well into double figures and they've brought in another helper, we were split into two groups while we discussed a topic. Last night's topic was work, which can often be a major issue for anyone on the spectrum. Talking about work was a useful exercise, but one member of the group talked almost self-indulgently on the subject (OK he had a couple more decades of experience than the rest of us) and the facilitator did little to stop him.

Talking of work, I survived my interim review. These six-monthly reviews serve as a reminder that I'll eventually need to find something else to do with my life. I still make mistakes at work, but who doesn't? What really gets me is how big a deal is made of my mistakes. I really don't need seven people reminding me to click on ABC whenever I submit XYZ. At times it's like that scene from Office Space where Peter is reminded about his TPS reports. It's frustrating because I take my work seriously when I'm there, and always want to do as good a job as I can. The only consolation is that I'm not the only one who gets this treatment.

I've just been watching the heats of the men's 110m hurdles. The last heat was like the Grand National: three runners (including the Athens champion) didn't even make the second hurdle! In an earlier heat, one runner fell victim to the new over-the-top false start rule.

Usain Bolt won the 100 metres, and judging by the way he finished he'll smash the 200, barring a false start. He could even dip under 19 seconds. I really can't warm to the guy though. He's got a massive ego; I don't subscribe to the view that he's entitled to one because he's so good. To be honest I find most male sprinters repulsive with all that preening, posturing and trash-talking, similar to how boxers behave.

Tennis shouldn't be in the Olympics but it was good to see Andy Murray claiming gold, for the loss of just seven games against Federer.

The fact that I even care right now what sports are in the Olympics, or whether this or that rule should be in place, is a good thing. When I'm depressed I really couldn't give a toss.

More good news: my car should be back in business tomorrow. I must say they did an excellent job on the rust I had on the roof.

Mount Tongariro's eruption last night has showered much of the North Island in volcanic ash and disrupted a few people's travel plans.

Momentum shifts

There has been a definite upswing in my mood since I last posted. Tonight we had the autism group: fourteen turned up including some new faces. I felt pretty comfortable for most of the evening (unlike last time). It was especially good to see Tracy (who missed the last meeting) and Danielle.
I'm sure Saturday's tramp helped matters, although I was already feeling better before then. We set off from Oriental Parade, then followed the Southern Walkway up to Mt Victoria (which I'm ashamed to say I hadn't been up before, having lived so close to it), finishing up at Island Bay. On the way we could see the South Island, specifically the Kaikoura ranges which were covered in snow. Nine of us did the trip, which wasn't anything like my experience from two months ago. The weather was surprisingly good - none of the forecast rain eventuated and we had plenty of sun.

After the tramp I went to the Penthouse in Brooklyn to see Margin Call, a movie about the 2008 financial crisis. It was a thriller that followed an investment bank over a very turbulent 24 hours. A jolly good watch it was too. Boy did it show you what an unreal world some of those investment bankers live and work in. From what I could tell (I might be completely wrong, and anyway it was just a story), most of the company's assets were in derivatives whose value depended on the volatility of the stock market being below a certain level. Above that level, everything would unravel. I do remember the stock market being extremely volatile in 2008.

Work is still much the same. I try my best not to make mistakes but still make them (and of course on days like last Tuesday and Wednesday when I'm battling depression, I make even more). It would be nice if such a big deal wasn't made of my errors; I really don't need all that orange highlighter pen. It's funny how certain mistakes don't seem to matter at all though, even though they clearly should. For instance the underwriters produce health-related questionnaires for the clients and sometimes the doctors to fill in. They're often very badly written and make us look unprofessional, but nobody seems to care. Last Thursday my boss took me through my APOs, which stands for "annual performance objectives". I don't work on that sort of time scale; I just try to get through each day.

Last Wednesday we were supposed to see the Transit of Venus (for the last time in our lifetimes) but unfortunately such a phenomenon relies a bit too heavily on being able to see the sun, which was absent all day.

The men's final at the French Open is hanging in the balance as rain halted play yesterday. Nadal seemed to have thwarted Djokovic's attempt to become the first man since Rod Laver to hold all four grand slams at once as he took a two-set lead and a 2-0 lead in the third. But Djokovic stormed back, winning six straight games to wrap up the set and then gaining an early break in the fourth. With such a momentum shift, the rain probably came at a good time for Nadal. The resumption of play is only a few minutes away but I need to sleep and anyway I haven't got Sky. Earlier Sharapova claimed the women's title and with it the world number one ranking.

Update: Nadal broke back immediately and took out the fourth set 7-5 to win his seventh French Open.

Heading down the right track

Saturday's tramp on the Akatarawa ranges was billed as "easy". It wasn't. Nor was it what I'd call a tramp. It was a rather arduous bush-bash. We followed the main path for all of fifty yards before our experienced leader said we'd gone the wrong way and led us down a "track" that we wouldn't even have noticed had it not been pointed out to us. He said he hadn't been down that track in four years; I don't think anybody else had either.

We then followed a creek, rock-hopping until that was no longer an option. Soon we were wading through two feet of water; I just managed to keep my undies dry though one or two others were less fortunate. My boots (which I got in 1997, were made in Bulgaria and have Cyrillic writing on them), my socks and most of my trousers were obviously soaked.

The idea was to reach a spectacularly wide rata tree - "it's another 45 minutes" but after 90 minutes we were still some distance from the tree and would have needed to scale a very steep bank, so that plan went out the window. As it was, there was plenty of crawling through vegetation and at one point we descended a bank with the aid of a rope. At least we went at a sensible pace and took short breaks every now and again. After six hours we finally clambered out of the woodland to the "bibeep, bibeep" of civilisation as someone received a text.

I must say it was a most satisfying feeling to have been on that tramp - an all-too-rare sense of achievement. I'd used muscles that hadn't been flexed in years and in some cases didn't even know existed. It felt great to get away from the internet, the phone, work, men in suits, my flat... Best of all the fact that I am able to feel good is indicative of an improvement in my mental state. Twelve of us did the trip. Due to work commitments Danielle unfortunately couldn't make it.

I slept for 9½ hours the following night. On Sunday I saw the Lorax with my cousin, her three boys and one of their friends. I suggested it to them because I knew they had a few of Dr Seuss's books including that one. I'd never read the Lorax myself but I pretty much knew the story anyway, largely thanks to this song and video. It was a good film with a pretty important environmental message which is even more relevant now than it was forty years ago when the book (and Cat Stevens's song) were written.

Last night I attended the autism group for the first time in six weeks. There was an American bloke who was new to the group and certainly didn't mind talking (especially when the facilitator asked each of us in turn to say what we were good at).

It's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care

That's a quote from Office Space - great movie - when Peter has a meeting with the two Bobs, and it's a quote that applies to me in my job. Another quote which applies to me is "...my only real motivation is not to be hassled, that and the fear of losing my job." Sometimes even the fear of being fired isn't enough to motivate me. Not only does what I do on a day-to-day basis not matter to me; I can't quite fathom that there are other people in the office for whom it clearly does matter. People who think about work outside work! It's a weird situation I'm in, just going through the motions in what is supposed to be some big spiffy career job, although it doesn't seem that weird to me because I'm so used to it.

It would be really cool to feel that I was good at my job. I did get that feeling when I worked on the earthquake claims, and that made me feel good about myself. Because the quakes had caused so much mayhem I felt I was helping somebody somewhere, and it was obvious what I had to do when I turned up in the morning, so I went ahead and did it. In contrast in the last two weeks (and the rest if I'm honest) in my big spiffy job I've been all at sea. I don't know what goes where, I can't seem to remember a damn thing (not caring probably doesn't help there) and most of the output I have produced has been somewhere between dodgy and hopelessly wrong. My boss is partly to blame - he isn't a great communicator so I'm often left in the dark - but mostly the problem is me, and recognising that isn't great for my self-esteem.

One fringe benefit of my job is that I got to see a World Cup game on Saturday - South Africa against Fiji. On Friday an email was sent around the office; six free single tickets were up for grabs. I got my hands on one of them; I benefited from the lack of demand for single tickets. On Saturday I wasn't really in the mood for watching rugby, but I took a longish walk to the stadium and got there as the anthems were playing. The atmosphere was good at the start - all the non-South African fans were behind Fiji and for the first twenty minutes it was nip-and-tuck, but then the Boks got a try, then another try, then another try... In the second half I lost interest but I was glad I saw the game - it would have cost me $120 had I bought the ticket. I got the shuttle bus back to Courtenay Place, got a very tasty butter chicken from Taste of India, and watched Ireland's shock win over Australia on telly. Gee whiz.

On Friday they had drinks after work, taking in the All Blacks match with Japan which kicked off at eight. I went home for dinner then joined my colleagues in town as the game started but I wish I'd stayed at home. Being in a crowded pub with work colleagues who have been drinking for three hours is a recipe for stress.

Last night we had the autism group. I really enjoyed it; we had a smallish turnout (five?) which actually helped my enjoyment of the session I think.

This Saturday I'm flying to Timaru and will be taking three days off work. I'm looking forward to both the flight (which in such a small plane will have some novelty value) and spending some time with my parents.

Strike!

In Auckland I had a job, some good friends, some non-scary social groups and an exercise machine. I’d built up a structure of sorts. It wasn’t perfect – it was draughty and it sprung the odd leak occasionally, but at least it held up. Then I packed up and left, effectively taking a wrecking ball to the whole damn thing.

What would happen next was anybody’s guess. All bets were off. Five weeks later all bets are still off. At times life has been manageable, even pleasant; at others I’ve been in the depths of despair.

I’ve always been sensitive to dust and fumes; since I moved into this flat last weekend something has been getting up my nose, blocking it and giving me sinus troubles. I knew I’d never find the ideal flat in the short time I had, and for the amount I was prepared to pay, but I thought I’d at least avoid one that makes me ill.

The movers did a brilliant job on Tuesday. I was amazed at what they did squeeze into that tiny lift. Only the base of my bed had to be hauled up the stairs. As well as being very efficient they were a pleasure to deal with.

At work they have a social club. It only cost a few dollars to sign up so I did. Last night after work they went bowling, at a much swankier establishment than the one in Newmarket I went to with the Asperger's group at the end of March. There were bright lights, big screens showing Super 15 (or however many it is now) matches, table-inset scoreboards and (as is always dangerous) an unlimited bar tab. I went along relatively fearlessly (how scary can bowling be exactly?) but I should have been more wary. The bowling was secondary to the booze, the high-fives (the number of times I’ve had to tell tennis partners that I don’t do high-fives) and the banter. I can never let myself go in those situations, no matter how much I’ve had to drink, and as I’m now on 300 mg of Efexor I should hardly be drinking at all. When people talk to me I never know how to respond – they might as well be speaking Swahili. For the record I did hit three figures in all three games. I left at around nine, but it felt much later.

My boss recently broached the subject of exams, giving me the amazingly wonderful news that I don’t have to do them. Great! The only reason for doing them would be to give the illusion to my colleagues of participating in this whole big career thing. At 31 I’m too old for that sort of subterfuge. Seriously.

On Thursday night I saw Paul at the Reading cinema on Courtenay Place. I kind of like comedy sci-fi, especially British-made comedy sci-fi about three tits and spaceman balls. I didn't think it was amazing, but being able to relate to some of the protagonists helped, and anything that gets a few laughs out of me must be worth seeing.

This afternoon I’ll go to an art gallery and give them one of Dad’s business cards (“there’s this watercolour painter I know from the South Island who’s really good…”). Paintings aren’t selling like they used to and that’s been getting him down. In Wellington people tend to care about art more than the rest of the country; I think this could be a good market for Dad to tap into.

Speaking of Dad, if he had the chance he’d be out of Geraldine like a shot. Of course Mum is happy as Larry there with her golf, gossip, church, golf, golf, and more gossip. And why shouldn’t she be? She’s worked hard all her life. But having been born in Geraldine she’s unaware, or chooses to ignore, that Dad lacks stimulation there.

That’s all until next time, as long as the arsenic in the paint in my flat doesn’t get me first.

Eagle vs Shark

At the last Asperger's group I went to, or was it the one before that, Eagle vs Shark was recommended as a "must-watch Aspie movie". I've just watched it for the first time on DVD and can see why it got the recommendation. I thought the Awesome tracksuits were awesome, as was the whole concept of the Crazy Burger - two slabs of meat with bread in the middle. Lily looked like one of my female friends from university (but a lot more feminine!) - this friend has been married for over four years now. I got another flashback to 1998 when the Stone Roses song This Is The One played; my first-year room-mate (who hailed from Barnsley and spoke with an almost incomprehensible accent) played that song over and over. The bit where Jarrod met up with his old classmate (who was now wheelchair-bound) made me wince.

What interested me the most was Jarrod's ego. A lot of socially awkward people I've met in real life (including some with Asperger's) have pretty damn big egos. Bazza was a fine example - he liked to play up his tennis skills and physical prowess, when in reality he's not exactly a picture of health. Once he laughably compared his current self to a young Elvis. Often a public display of arrogance is a way of covering up one's own insecurities, but I doubt that's why Aspies can sometimes appear arrogant. Possibly they just boast without realising it can be socially inappropriate - I don't know.

The best thing about seeing Eagle vs Shark in Wellington (and something I was unaware of until I saw it) is that it's a Wellington movie. Yes! And full of music from the Phoenix Foundation, surely one of Wellington's best bands. I liked the bit from the director at the start: "if you managed to rip this movie off the internet, congratulations for getting away with a crime."

Today I spoke to Richard on the phone, then took a trip up the cable car at his suggestion. It was a great view from up there on a sunny afternoon. I then walked back. This evening I took a walk along Oriental Parade. I'll get my head around Wellington eventually I hope.

Just as an aside: having visited this we-never-close internet café a few times, it appears there are some we-never-leave customers. For me, having Channel 63 on the telly is a big plus.

Heading downhill

After my last blog post, which followed my last ever actuarial interview, I slid rapidly downhill. In the last few days I've had this real end-of-the-world feeling. I might have a big decision to make in the next 48 hours, and I don't like any of my options. The phone went on Thursday (I let it ring six times before daring to pick it up); it was someone from the Wellington company wanting to touch bloody base with me. They have had difficulties contacting one of my references and now want me to contact this person. That's a decidedly awkward prospect. Possibly having to move out of my flat when the new owners move in is an extra complication.

If I'm offered the job, my parents want me to take it. Mum said, "everyone I've spoken to has said it's easy to make friends in Wellington." You've known me for nearly 31 years and you still have no bloody idea. It isn't easy for me to make friends anywhere. Of course she does realise that; I think she was just encouraging me to take the job. She worries a lot about me and if I take the job everything will be sorted and she'll have nothing to worry about any more.

My cousin in Wellington thinks I should seriously think about going full-time with my puzzles instead of taking the job down there or applying for any other jobs. On Friday I spent some time trying to come up with an algorithm for making and solving a certain type of puzzle. I might as well have been in Bletchley Park trying to decipher the Enigma machine. If I do make my puzzles a full-time job, how will I move into a flat? I'm reminded of Danny Bhoy's attempts to find a flat. "So what do you do for a living?" I'm a comedian. "You must be joking."

On Saturday I attended the monthly Asperger's group. More than thirty turned up. On the whole they are such a good bunch of people. I have definitely made some connections with a few of them - losing them would be a big deal. Dad said I'd be earning good money in that job so I could just fly to Auckland whenever I felt like it. There was one bloke I'd never met before who had many of the traits of Asperger's. He was clever but could appear quite arrogant at times: "I like to play chess but can't find anyone good enough to play against." He was a mathematician who worked at home as a computer programmer. He was also interested in puzzles and games; we spoke at length about my puzzle and he could be a useful guy to have on board. People like him must struggle in relationships, or so I thought - I was surprised to learn that he's got five kids from two marriages.

My depressive symptoms have returned with a vengeance. Everything has slowed down and become a chore, I've been unable to concentrate on anything, and I've felt tired a lot. I slept for nearly nine hours on Saturday night but yesterday I couldn't stop yawning.

Last night I went with Julie to see The King's Speech, with Colin Firth playing the part of the king. I thought it was very good. Speech defects are common but they don't get a lot of media coverage. My grandmother, if she was still with it, would have enjoyed it immensely I'm sure.

My computer died on Thursday - it will need a new motherboard which won't be cheap. It's been a hassle not having a computer, but at least I can't play poker. What a distraction that can be.

A bit of everything

It looks like my temporary assignment is coming to an end. I’m scheduled to finish on 5th November. There’s been a definite improvement in my mental health whilst I've had this job – since I ditched Lifeline at least – and it would be great if I could keep it at this level after I finish. I’ve maintained a constant level, or close to it, for a month now; I can’t remember the last time I managed that.

This job is nothing special but that's almost the point. Nothing special means nothing stressful. Saying that, I’m achieving more on a daily basis than I was in my last job and I even feel I have some skills that come in handy here. For instance earlier this week my boss wanted to know how to calculate the GST component of a claim on the new rate. He was impressed when I showed him; in my previous job somebody else would have made a swanky macro which gave you the answer in a fraction of the time.

My boss is a no-nonsense character who has worked for the company for 25 years. He smokes, is about five stone overweight, and has no time for corporate growth days or other such rubbish. And man does he like to swear. I have a tendency to count things, so one day I tallied all the mentions of his f-f-favourite expletive; the count reached 28 by the end of the day. The next day – a particularly bad day for my boss, I think – he dropped a whopping 59 F-bombs. I haven’t counted since. For all his effing and blinding, I find him strangely charming.

Last Saturday I attended the Asperger’s group. It was good to see everyone, including a few people, but it wasn’t easy to make conversation. It gets quite noisy there at times, and when you do have a conversation, someone else is always likely to interrupt. That of course is a common symptom of the condition.

On Sunday morning I met up with Phil who has been living in Denmark since January. I don't know how his relationship with his girlfriend has been going, but he hasn't found Denmark easy. He's can't get residency, which means he can't get a job (not that there are many jobs to be had over there anyway), which means he can't offset the high cost of living over there. He said he regrets making the move and would like to extend his stay in New Zealand, for good if possible. We played two games of pétanque, winning one each (I won the second game on a sudden-death end). The annual Waiheke tournament is in two weeks so it was useful practice.

On Monday night I continued my run of close tennis matches. We played the doubles first and I really felt like the weakest link out there. It reminded me of playing football at school: the more I avoided touching the ball, the better our team did. Superman's big serve and general aggressive play kept us in the match, even if the other team were clearly better. We somehow won the first set 7-5, but we went down in the end, 6-3 in the second set and 10-7 in the super tie-break. We did well to run them so close. My singles match was a strange one: it took my opponent some time to get into the match (he said afterwards that he struggled to read my "unusual" style of play) but once he hit his straps he was unstoppable. I won the first set 6-2, and when I clawed my way back to 5-all in the second I fancied my chances, but I eventually lost 2-6 7-5 6-2. I had no regrets: I played about as well as I could and was in good shape physically right to the end, but in the third set he had far too much firepower. Overall our team lost all six of our matches; five of them could have gone either way.

On Tuesday I tutored that 16-year-old boy again. I think he's a smart kid but just a bit lazy. He's quite happy to do the bare minimum he needs to get through the exam.

Last night we had the men's group. We watched the second half of the Aussie film Malcolm. Bloody good fun. Made we want to go to Melbourne again.

Rats!

It's been an interesting week I guess. On Tuesday I applied for a job online - a three-month temporary position at one of the finance companies that hasn't gone under yet - and the next morning I got a phone call from someone wanting to interview me that afternoon. They weren't hanging around. As it happened, this bloke knew some of the people at my last job, including my most recent boss. This is nothing out of the ordinary in New Zealand, where everybody knows everybody, but even so I figured my chances were boosted by this, to maybe 30% or so. Also helping my cause was that I really did want this job; that hasn't always been the case. At the interview itself he wanted rather a lot of information for just a temporary role. "So where do you see myself in five years' time?" He commented on my CV, saying I was underselling my achievements in my last job. I could see where he was coming from: I'd put down six bullet points - roughly one for every year I'd worked there - but in reality I'd had to scrape the barrel even to come up with those. On Friday I found out I didn't get the job - I think I'd have been perfectly fine but as always there was someone else who had more experience of this or that.

Yesterday I saw a movie at St Lukes mall with some of the Aspergers bunch. There must have been nine or ten of us - quite a turnout. Before the movie I ate downstairs in the food court with Adam, who would be one of the older regulars at the monthly Aspergers group. He's 49 (though he looks a few years older) and sports a bushy beard and a pony-tail. He's a font of knowledge on all kinds of subjects. One of his favourite topics is chess, which isn't something I know a whole lot about. I did play a chess tournament in Peterborough when I was eight. I didn't win a single game, but in my very last match I was thrashing the other kid, only for time to run out and our game to be scored a draw. I went home in tears and I haven't played since. Several years later my brother for some reason also attempted a chess competition. If memory serves, it was played at the Perse, a private school in Cambridge. My "little" brother was already a six-foot brute by then, and he'd never been an academic, or someone particularly interested in subtle strategies or subtle anything. By contrast his opponents were mostly bespectacled, bookish boys, and I'm pretty sure he never won a game either. Anyway I digress. As we ate our curries, Adam bemoaned the current trend for playing chess by the book; it appeared that style and flair were frowned upon. I suggested he take up poker, where all that really matters is your bottom line. If that's positive, any style will do. Our conversation then moved from chess to Adam's living arrangements. "I've had a bit of a pong in my fridge for a while," he said. "I kind of ignored it - I thought it was just rotting vegetables - but eventually I had a look and there were dead rats in there." He then explained that some of the rats had been eaten by other rats. Meanwhile I was trying to eat my chicken tikka masala, or was it rat rogan josh? With all this talk of cannibalistic rats, I was no longer sure.

We didn't all see the same film, but I went with the majority and saw Inception which starred Leonardo DiCaprio. I liked the concept and was looking forward to it, but I was tired and I found it all too weird, too loud and too long. That I sat next to Adam probably didn't enhance my enjoyment of the film. His fridge isn't the only thing that pongs: he has what you might call a Bravo Oscar problem. Towards the end Adam saw me looking at my watch, and he said (out loud), "yeah, I wanna know when's this bullshit gonna end."

It was good to catch up with so many people from the group. Hats off to Richard for organising it all. Hopefully we can do something similar in the near future. I dropped one of the guys off in the city and all I wanted to do was get home (I don't know why I was so tired), but instead I drove to Browns Bay where the French Society were running a quiz. The real reason I made the trek up there wasn't for the quiz (though that was interesting in itself) but for a prize draw where you could win a trip for two to New Caledonia. In other words quite a big prize and not bad odds. However, when the draw was made I was glad someone with a partner and a family won it. If I'd won who would I take with me?

Today I met up with Julie for a coffee. She recently came off Efexor and has been suffering withdrawal symptoms. We also bumped into a woman who bought a shop in Devonport a few months ago. She was clearly going through a very severe bout of depression. To see her in such a state was quite upsetting; there was little Julie or I could do to help her. I'm hoping I can be in a position to help one day.

Flights and frights

There never seems to be any news at this time of year. I'd almost given up watching the so-called news on TV (of which very little was news at all) but on Wednesday I tuned in just in case. Oh boy. It was hell on earth. The reported death toll from the Haiti Earthquake varies widely, but it looks like being somewhere between the population of Cambridge (the one I was born in, not the one in the Waikato) and the population of Wellington. An enormous number. And most of those who survived have a very bleak future ahead of them.

The better news from my end is that I've booked a holiday. I'll be flying to the UK in early May and will spend twelve days in Thailand when I come back. I get back into Auckland towards the end of June. I was very pleased with my fare which came to $2400. I've got definite plans to go to Italy (I'm going on an intensive Italian course next week) and I'll maybe even spend some time in France if I can fit it in. I'll also want to see my grandmother, who isn't getting any younger, and my brother who I've only seen once, briefly, in the last six years.

With those six or seven weeks blacked out in my calendar, I can now set about finding some temporary or contract work. I phoned four recruitment agencies this morning. No luck yet but I'll keep trying. My best bet might still be Andy's place of work; the last time we spoke he seemed reasonably optimistic about a temporary assignment there.

We had the the first men's group of the year on Tuesday. As is often the case, Brendan dominated the first part of the session with his obsessive anger over a job he had more than ten years ago. He has a problem here and somebody really needs to talk to him (maybe me); it disrupts the meeting and doesn't do him any good either. We then watched the first two-thirds of Shirley Valentine which has so far (in my opinion) been a bloody good movie.

Talking of movies, I went with Julie on Wednesday to see an Italian film called Mid-August Lunch, a translation from its italian title Pranzo di Ferragosto. It was a bit like some of those French films I've seen, where not a lot happens but not a lot needs to. It did make me want to go to Italy, and I was able to pick out a surprising amount of Italian without looking at the subtitles.
On Saturday we had the monthly Autism NZ meeting which was fascinating as always. I had a long chat to a woman of around forty whose daughter had Asperger's and we'll be meeting up for dinner next weekend. I'm still toying with the idea of getting a diagnosis myself. When I was small my parents didn't want me officially diagnosed, even though the doctor said I was perhaps mildly autistic, mainly due to the stigma and lack of knowledge of the condition back then.

Yesterday I felt down and don't exactly know why. I put on my relaxation CD and did 750 pulls on Bazza's exercise machine, and that helped a bit. Maybe I was worried about finding work, or perhaps it was because of my poker bankroll which has been heading due south since that royal flush. I've also had two panic attacks in the past week. I still find them frightening, though now that I know what they are, they seem to subside after a couple of minutes.

Somebody commented on my last blog post. This was exciting for me because I average something like 0.0274 of a comment per post. There was one snag however - it was written in Chinese. Luckily you can go into Babel Fish and get a deadly accurate translation, even for languages that don't use the Roman alphabet. The message, in English, is "The semblance with the fact itself symbol, the common people actually easily is often not deceived by the incrustation." It's always been a major concern of mine that ordinary people aren't fooled by incrustations, so on reading that message I breathed one heck of a sigh of relief.