Ashburger's Syndrome (Part 2)

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Ashburger's Syndrome (Part 2)

Paper aeroplane flying towards the office bin.

We know we are not liked – even feared and despised by some people or why attack us? (You only bully what you're afraid of – what challenges you to be what you are not or at least makes you think about it as a subject). Limited intelligence, criminality and defensiveness go together – leading to ignorance and suppression, by those wanting to shut out the light. Perpetual motion and emotion, keeps them on the move but not us. We don't want to leave home or even go out. We just want to collect our train numbers or plonk about on our computers in peace. Failing that we want to vegetate in front of the goggle box. We are not active participants in life. We are just passive viewers, along for the ride (Don't ask us to drive – we're not up to it or up for it either). We understand sound and motion go together (as with music and dance) but we are detached because we are observers of life, not activists (We don't move with the times because we are lumps of rock – orderly and controlled, not relaxed). We see only chaos and confusion in the world – danger we are not ready to face. Go for a swim? No thanks! You could drown and then there's all the pollution in the sea and God knows what in the rivers and swimming pools! We don't enjoy our lives, we study them for that great examination in the sky, when we all kick the bucket (Did we do well?). Live our lives? Maybe next time. Spontaneity is for wimps – we love routine. Order and discipline, that's us.

We're not in our bodies but always outside, looking in. This explains our odd gait as we're not in contact with life or society's natural rhythms.

We feel continually under stress because we are. Our twitching, tics and odd mannerisms show this. I need to crack my joints continually because of this (neck, between the shoulders, lower back (especially this point), ankles, kneecaps, wrists, fingers and toes – by the way did I mention we're obsessive list makers?). This is why you'll see me and others like me, suddenly tilt their heads to one side or move our hands and feet into strange positions, for no apparent reason – we need to relieve our spasticity (Perhaps this is where 'Jerk' comes from as an insult?). It could explain the difficulty swallowing, indigestion, sensory sensitivity and allergies as well. Maybe too, it explains the dietary fads of eating nothing but a particular food – like crisps, beans, bread or biscuits, for months, even years on end (I've heard that we're carb eaters, avoiding protein and choking on fats).

Is it any wonder that we're stressed? Our attention to detail-driven characters, fear of making mistakes, rigid personalities (love of tight clothing), passion for order, discipline and routine – all contribute to the pressure we feel under and put ourselves under. If we weren't so visually orientated, we probably wouldn't be so language impaired, continually swallowing nervously in social situations. This passivity and receptivity is probably what allows us to be so logical but it also leads to the need for space and the temper tantrums that follow, should we not get it and find we cannot cope: The sensory influx that drives us insane – the obsessive compulsion to wash our hands and protect ourselves from every other potential danger, turns us into an explosive powder keg of emotions, which blows up like a volcano every so often.

They say it is a male thing – this turning down and in, in curiosity, then up and out with answers and insights. This mental pressure is the same as physical pressure as in sex and other expressions, I believe. The physics of it is male concentration versus female dispersal of attention and energy. This is why males are more volatile and suspicious because of it (wound up and easily triggered into action, rather than relaxed and patient). Personally I think that giving birth is the true female orgasm and I read recently of a doctor who had the same idea, so I'm in good company. In both cases, sex and birth, lead to release and relief, with post-natal depression being the equivalent of a man dropping off to sleep after the event but on a bigger scale – physically and emotionally drained.

I often wondered if my lower back flexing, was down to some kind of static build up, needing to be discharged through sex or movement of some kind. Maybe it builds up through hip and spine motion? Kundalini eat your heart out! Maybe death is the biggest orgasm there is and that is what we're dying to find out?

Am I obsessed with me? Yes but I am you. This is why I have such an identity crisis too. I know the world in general but not me in particular. I'm a chameleon that blends into the background – a Zelig-like character that is invisible to all, disappearing before anyone noticed he was there: Death, where is thy sting? Toaster, where is thy ping? Tucking into my three slices of burnt bread (never four, never two), I slide into my life of dull obscurity and wish you goodbye as you drift on down the river of life and I stay stuck on my island of sanctity, worshipping existence in my own monkish way, trying not to make a habit of it and failing...

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