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People blog for many reasons – to vent their feelings, discuss current events, share family memories, and more. As an autistic, it has been since I first started out nearly a year ago, my outlet for my obsessive interests, and one of them is the strongest of all: music, mostly classical, in which I really get so entrenched.

My deep (or, what some people who find my conversations about Johann Sebastian Bach tedious, too deep) appreciation for music began as a child growing up in northern New Jersey. In my special education facility, the staff had a pair of Irish musicians flanked with some five to nine Irish dancers and a local woodwind quintet visit the campus. Music classes with Mall Kill were impeccable, with loads of keyboards, videos about types of musical instruments, and fun songs otherwise sung at circle time enhancing my experience, thus gradually fueling my fandom for it.

My real “obsession” with music came in full circle when I lived in Riverview, Florida, beginning at late fourth grade (before moving near Plant City over a year ago), and I had a knack of playing Donkey Kong 64 because the quintet of protagonists play musical instruments of differing types to thwart the evil King K. Rool and his minions. (My favorite one is the orangutan Lanky Kong, who uses his trombone to cream the daylights out of a million Kasplats.)  I have purchased my first book in a Barnes and Noble detailing biographical information on some 50 composers, as well as borrowed books on the topic. To further aggravate it, I had Time Warner Cable television, and it enabled me to watch shows on Bet on Jazz (nowadays with less jazz musically, as BetJ) and Ovation TV. In a few weeks in the middle of fifth grade, if memory serves me, I progressively regarded Howard Goodall, the composer, music advocate (of school singing), and broadcaster, as my celebrity role model after watching his documentaries on the latter channel, although at that age I should have been admiring Britney Spears or some other promiscuous “star” many pre-adolescents raved about at that time.

There is one late elementary school, at the least, memory that stemmed from my growing interest. One day after school, I was talking to one of my uncles about George Fredric Handel (a composer who died 250 years ago, mind you), and a few hours later, my mother and late father came to my room and we had a talk. They overheard my telephone conversation and I thought that I was criticized about talking too much about music, and my thought proved true, as they explained that the conversation about a person my uncle did not know bored him to death and they wanted me to stay in the context of the topic other people are talking about.

Months after finishing high school, that memory resurfaced, alongside the memory when Mrs. Vicki told me to call off a conversation regarding “Tropicana Lounge,” and I discovered in the latter memory that I had an interest with vacations I took. I affixed myself too much on show lounges at a tender age, and I conglomerated those two memories and wrote an article about them. Still to me, with those “obsessions” in mind, I find it so challenging to participate in telephoned or interpersonal conversations with a topic I deem too boring to start with.

To avoid merely boring others with my conversations, I turned to blogging. With knowlege of my passions as well as useage of affiliate programs, I typed in the keyboard what I wanted to write when I feel the urge of talking to someone about George Fredric Handel or whatever is on my mind. Being between PDD-NOS and Asperger’s, blogging is my outlet for my restricted interests, and I don’t need a social story to help me let it all go. If there is a way to fight my impulses to strike a conversation on clarinets with a person, only to irk them, I’d just go online and write a blog entry on it and the cravings would just vanish.