Early morning bliss, odours and noises…

It never ceases to amaze me how much more gratification you get by waking up early and getting things done. I understand it’s quite absurd to rise and (a wee less) shine around 2am. The fact that the world is comfortably at ease is quite appealing. The mental idea of having dinner at lunchtime requires some adjusting as well as somnolence before dinner time.

As the world is waking up, cars hissing by my window, weathering the neighbour’s morning routines/tempers, the first signs appear to increase my caffeine levels.

The downside of the early morning peace is the abrupt ending especially this time of year. Whilst during other seasons you might be distracted by wildlife noises, carefully dodging the area’s insomniac guard dog with the choice of words. Not even the – at times – hysterically barking canine bothers me as much as sounds related to humans or human activity.

The first task of the day was to bake bread. Since an hour or so the house is increasingly, deliciously scented by the Italian bread I made. By now it has overpowered the sandalwood esoteric oil I used in the living area. And no, the kitchen and living area is properly closed off and not by old western swinging saloon doors. Smells in general, pleasant or just plain putrid, do tend to travel lightly.

Those two aforementioned, noises and smells, have the potency to cause major distress. Especially noises as it involves a control issue which I have great problems with among others. Smells usually trigger emotions and/or memories. The scent of freshly baked bread reminds me of early mornings wandering through town, again with minimal human interaction. Both noise and smell can be positive, oh duality popping up once more. The horrid stench of a packed train in the morning, read or smell: the mishmash of odours your nose is being attacked by like walking past a perfume store. Your eyes all watery, nose incapable of performing any natural tasks, lungs working at only half capacity and trying your utmost to keep your mouth closed to avoid tasting the rancid substances. Now that I think of it, those anti-pollution masks you often see in smoggy or very dense cities might be a solid solution instead of keeping on your scarf. I can’t tell which one is worse, a packed train in the morning or in the evening. The latter can be OK-ish if it is properly ventilated or if you’re not (sitting or standing next to) the instigator. It goes without saying that you can easily withstand or endure those embarrassing whiffs or any noise you produce yourself.

Well, since I have taken the time to wake up and adjust to the world, the time has come to leave the house to address a few important matters. The remainder of the day will subsequently be marked with re-finding my (inner) peace. The perks of Asperger’s. Hurray!


Auteur: dhjvg

Bijna 40j geleefd zonder de hulp gekregen te hebben die ik nodig had. Het tekent me en heeft me gemaakt tot wie ik nu ben. Vandaar het "(f)autistische", niet dat mijn inzichten fout zijn, het betekent alleen dat anderen het als fout kunnen aanzien. Maar dat is een ander paar mouwen want wie bezit de complete waarheid, wat is goed/fout? Ik bedoel alleen dat ik zelf weet dat mijn gedachten niet altijd de juiste zijn, hoe juist het ook moge klinken. De constante schemerzone die er steeds voor zorgt dat ik mezelf in vraag begin te stellen, mijn geestelijke gezondheid, of beter gezegd, de mentale gezondheid van de maatschappij (behendig het woord "samenleving" ontwijkend vanwege kristalheldere redenen).

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