What's wrong with me?

OK, I already know the answer. It's "a lot". But my biggest flaw is a complete inability to handle most social situations. My only real coping strategy is to take myself out of the situation entirely but sometimes that isn't possible. On Friday we had our staff Christmas party. It was during a work afternoon so I couldn't exactly just vanish into the sunset after we'd all eaten. The food was good but having to talk made it a lot less enjoyable. I hardly drank anything because I was babysitting my cousin's kids that evening, giving me a good excuse to miss the after-party. Four hours were more than enough for me. I'd have much preferred four hours stuck at an airport - yes there are lots of people at an airport but you don't have to talk to any of them and you can at least pass the time by reading a book or staring at all the Rolexes you'll never be able to afford. I just wish I could get something out of these sorts of events, or at least not find them hellish, but it's been this way for nearly twenty years.

The Auckland autism group had its Christmas party last Saturday. It would have been a far more enjoyable (and meaningful) occasion for me than the party I did attend the previous day. I was delighted that they introduced an annual Emma Foster Award to be given out to somebody who has shown a number of positive qualities such as courage, perseverance, initiative, helping others and helping the environment. Fittingly Richard won the inaugural award. I suggested to Jen Birch that they name something after Emma to ensure that she is never forgotten, and this is a wonderful way of doing just that.

I've still got plenty to do to ensure that my offer goes unconditional before Christmas. Some of that will depend on the council getting the LIM done on time (and that the results are all OK). Going unconditional pre-Christmas would enable me to can move in three weeks earlier than otherwise (and crucially before the lease on my current place expires). Then I'll have to finalise the terms of my mortgage, which is where the title of my blog really comes into its own.

On Wednesday I'll be going a meeting at the local tramping club with a woman from the autism group. Hopefully I'll get to see a bit more of Wellington (and the rest of NZ) in the new year while meeting people and burning a few calories (which I need to) at the same time.

I'm flying down to Christchurch (unfortunately I couldn't get a flight to Timaru) on Thursday evening. The break should do me good.

Edit: Kim Jong-Il isn't just ill, he's dead.

Emma – one year on

One year ago today, Emma passed away. She was a special person and an inspiration to us all. We must never forget.

Latest news I (can't think of a proper title)

Today would have been Emma's 29th birthday. Richard is spending the weekend with her family in Kaitaia. It will be a sad time for them all, obviously, but also an opportunity to remember an amazing person.

Richard and I had quite a long chat on the phone yesterday. We're now seriously considering the possibility of flatting together. Since we get on well, and he has too many people in his living arrangement while I have too few, it would make logical sense. We might have to wait until we get our work situations sorted, whenever that happens. Richard decided that the BNZ job wasn't for him; from what I know of him, and given how I would feel in that environment, I'm almost certain he made the right decision.

When I told my counsellor that I was thinking of working in mental health, she suggested that I become a volunteer counsellor for Lifeline. They recruit a new bunch of volunteers every six months, and the deadline to apply for the latest course happened to be only a couple of days away. I filled in their application form, giving various gory details of my experiences with depression and isolation, and had to physically hand the form in at their office in Greenlane to avoid missing the deadline. At 3pm yesterday I got a surprise phone call from one of the Lifeline managers; I would have my interview that evening. Although the interview would only last twenty minutes, for some reason I had to be there all evening, so thinking I might be hanging around for hours, I took a book with me.

My book remained well and truly unopened throughout what was an intense evening. I was rarely in my comfort zone, not that my comfort zone is particularly large. The gender imbalance was as I had expected; us men were outnumbered five to one. We were split into groups and did a variety of team activities. The first of these involved building a structure together using plastic straws without talking. I made a huge effort to participate fully in all the activities, knowing that if I didn't I'd have no chance of being accepted on the course. To my surprise there were considerably more applicants than places; I guessed about half of us would miss out. I was pretty sure the woman in my group who looked like she was at a PWC interview from the way she dressed would be fine. My interview came right at the end of the evening (this was purely by chance) and it wasn't easy. "You've got no job, no family and very few friends, and now you want to help other people? You must be joking! Sort your own mess out first." Well my two interviewers didn't actually say this but some of their comments almost implied it. "We admire your frankness on your application form, but you seem rather fragile." I actually think I coped with the interview, and the whole evening, as well as I possibly could, but I couldn't help feeling they wanted someone a bit more (let's face it) normal than myself. I'll have to wait and see.

Lifeline

On Saturday I had the pleasure of receiving a card from Emma's parents; they seemed to like this post I wrote about her. This must be a very difficult time for them, so I was really touched to get that card.

Yesterday I had lunch with Julie at Five Loaves and a drink at the Masonic. She's taken a massive hit from the collapse of three finance companies. It's so sad that people of her age - who can least afford it - have lost out the most, to companies whose chairmen, or whatever you call them, are simply cowboys.

I've just had at email from the States; they want another 35 puzzles from me. That should keep me busy, and being currently out of work, it's a potential lifeline. I've also just finished making a giant cryptic crossword which I hope to upload on to my website soon.

My overall profit on PokerStars hit $400 yesterday, and that's despite this hand which eliminated me from Saturday's tournament in 13th place (twelve paid):

PokerStars Game #41765335062: Tournament #254836334, $2.00+$0.20 USD
Badugi Pot Limit - Level X (250/500) - 2010/03/26 23:16:57 ET
Table '254836334 7' 8-max Seat #6 is the button
Seat 1: douganized (2580 in chips)
Seat 2: mcbane1988 (11285 in chips)
Seat 5: scott3437 (14655 in chips)
Seat 6: rain_2 (5510 in chips)
Seat 7: plutoman20 (14370 in chips)
Seat 8: kizzle72 (8899 in chips)
plutoman20: posts small blind 250
kizzle72: posts big blind 500
*** DEALING HANDS ***
Dealt to plutoman20 [5c 3c 4h 3h]
2 folds, scott3437: calls 500, 1 fold, plutoman20: calls 250, kizzle72: checks
*** FIRST DRAW ***
plutoman20: discards 2 cards [5c 3h], Dealt to plutoman20 [3c 4h] [Jh As]
kizzle72: discards 1 card, scott3437: discards 2 cards
plutoman20: checks, kizzle72: checks, scott3437: checks
*** SECOND DRAW ***
plutoman20: discards 1 card [Jh], Dealt to plutoman20 [3c 4h As] [5d]
kizzle72: discards 1 card, scott3437: discards 2 cards
plutoman20: bets 900, kizzle72: folds, scott3437: raises 1600 to 2500, plutoman20: raises 3400 to 5900, scott3437: raises 3600 to 9500, plutoman20: raises 4370 to 13870 and is all-in, scott3437: calls 4370
*** THIRD DRAW ***
plutoman20: stands pat on [3c 4h As 5d], scott3437: stands pat
*** SHOW DOWN ***
plutoman20: shows [5d 3c 4h As] (Badugi: 5,4,3,A)
scott3437: shows [Ah 3s 2c 4d] (Badugi: 4,3,2,A)
scott3437 collected 29240 from pot

The good news is that I'm running a bit better than that in the cash games.

Dad is flying out to the UK this evening; I'm just going to give him a quick call.

Health (but for a change, not mine)

On Saturday I attended the monthly social group at Autism NZ. About 25 people turned up, some for the first time, and as always it was a pleasure to meet them. I was unable to get round everybody of course, but I did my best. I wish I could have been a bit more helpful. Emma was very noticeable in her absence; that was obviously rather sad. Without her smiling and giggling, taking photos and even locking herself in the loo, things weren't quite the same. She will be sorely missed. It is of some consolation that when she passed away, a month ago now, she was extremely happy.

As I write this, the House of Representatives in Washington is voting on the health care reform bill. I'll admit that I'm very hazy on the nuts and bolts of the proposed new legislation, but I really hope it goes through. Some extreme right-wing Americans have described the bill as "the death of freedom", even using Britain's NHS as an example of "how not to do it". The NHS isn't perfect, but I'd take that over the American system any day. In America of course, there are a number of very powerful bazillion-dollar insurance corporations, all with a vested interest in keeping the status quo. As I see the current situation, there's a huge underclass of Americans who can't afford health insurance, and if any of these people become seriously ill, they're pretty much screwed. That's some freedom.

An inspiration

A week ago I received the devastating and scarcely believable news that Emma, one of the more recognisable faces from the Asperger's group had passed away at the weekend, having suffered a brain aneurysm. She was only 28.

Never before has someone's passing come as such a shock to me. I had been very lucky, perhaps unusually lucky, only to have known death at an advanced age. I was lucky enough to know all my grandparents. In 2005 my father was lucky to survive a serious heart scare, while my 28-year-old brother has lost some of his friends and colleagues in Afghanistan. These incidents have made me more aware of our mortality, but luckily I'd never known the sudden, premature death of somebody close to me.

Until last week. I'd only met Emma four times but she'd already made a significant positive impact on my life. In a world where we live in constant fear of failure, fear of appearing foolish, fear of not measuring up to our own or others' expectations, Emma seemingly had no fear. She was her own person, and I was able to be myself around her. More than that, she was happy and her laughter was remarkably contagious. Emma was very involved in the community and had a lot of friends. For a few months she had been going out with Richard, also from the Asperger's group; 2010 had the makings of a very good year for her.

A hundred people attended Friday morning's funeral, which was a true celebration of Emma's life. It was understandably a very emotional service, lasting two hours, but it wasn't a minute too long. Emma had touched so many people and they all had something to say. She was a prolific writer of poems; several of these were read out. My name even got a surprise mention in one of them - I felt quite honoured. The hymns and bible readings were very fitting, as were all the colourful balloons and Disney characters, for Emma had many childlike qualities. She was small in stature - five foot one, maybe five-two at a push - and I thought it was appropriate that her initials were ELF. Still, she was very much an independent adult and deserved to be treated as one.

After the service I talked to Richard and another bloke from the group; we agreed to meet up in Newmarket the next day for lunch to remember Emma. We ate at Burger King, which Emma liked to do, and I even managed to have what she would have called a Mr Bean moment by spilling a pint of coke all over the table. The three of us spent the rest of the afternoon together. We'd planned to see a movie but we were all a bit tired; I expect we'll do that in the next couple of weeks.

Last week's news was simply awful, and for the next three or four days I felt decidedly flat. I had no energy and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. However I now realise there are at least two positives I can take from it all. Firstly I might end up making some very good friends, and secondly the way Emma lived her life, always looking on the bright side even when times are tough, should be an inspiration for us all. I've always put a lot of emphasis on making a mark on the world, and have taken that to mean curing a disease, writing a novel or designing some architectural masterpiece. Emma made her mark by helping others and making them feel good about themselves, and that's just as big an achievement. In an age of trust funds, company pension schemes and KiwiSaver, some of us just assume we'll live to threescore and ten, perhaps a decade or two more, but in reality none of us know what's around the corner. At the end of the funeral we were shown many pictures of a happy, smiling Emma. Interspersed with those pictures were these words: Life is precious, use it wisely.