September 27th, 2001

running, bomb tech

The Arts

I'm not sure whether it falls under the category of "martial arts" or "marital arts" but Darkside has been gently guiding me through some very basic techniques in blocking and striking, but mostly blocking.

He showed me how to do one kick, and I attempted to mimic it. Stupid Joanie, having not stretched (having not anticipated doing anything like this) had muscle pain and said "ow."

It seems that blocking is more difficult than striking, because when striking, you pick a target and then hit it as fast as you can. When blocking, you figure out what they're trying to hit and then deflect it as fast as you can.

Sunday afternoons, Nephew and I will have to find some martial arts class. Darkside says that he is woefully out of shape and must get back in. (I look at his body and say "mmmm... if this is *out* of shape...") I indicated myself and nodded. Darkside tactfully made no comment. (one of the things that just makes me love you more...) Nephew's of an age where he can begin to learn...
  • Current Music
    ...but happy (glowing)
running, bomb tech

knees like water

Did I mention that Darkside is dressed in an exceptionally spiffy manner today? He's wearing all black, with a button-down shirt. Thank gods his neck is hidden, otherwise I'd be even worse off. Neighbor had to shield from all the gunk I was accidentally throwing out...

I'm doing better in that it no longer hurts to look at me, but I still every now and then break out in a random shudder because I'm so overloaded. No other physical discomfort, though.

I'm just wondering what it would be like to do all those things with Darkside...
  • Current Music
    the southeast lab, crowded
running, bomb tech

to higher levels

We've found a new level to connect on. Darkside and I are now comparing notes on martial arts techniques and exercises. We may end up setting aside some of our precious mornings in order to spar somewhere. I suggested a few things that might help -- he is having a bit of difficulty balancing sometimes, and is far easier to knock over than he might be.

The people in the computer lab that we were sparring outside of, the guy who made a comment about "heat between the students" the other morning when discussing lab temperature, raised the blinds in order to watch the sparring that was going on. We were having lots of fun out there. Darkside found my center of gravity, shoved. I flew back a few feet.

(Before we went outside to spar, I came within a handspan of grabbing his ass in a blocking move... only realized after I'd removed my hand that I'd been grabbing too personally...)

I love this. I love every bit of this. I love the way he makes me smile. I love the way our energies flow together without needing to constantly recalibrate to fit into each other.

Darkside, if you're reading this, I'm sorry for being obnoxious. I know I do tend to be. Just tell me when I am, right then, and I'll shut it down. [and please, smile after you say it, or I may shut down......] I'm glad you expect me to be there, now... when you go to class...

I am honored to be a part of your life.
running, bomb tech

Hot, Wet, Pussy

Miao. Or, Myaaaaaaaaoooooooowwww!

That damn cat was all over into stuff last night. Our current method for giving him the idea that That Was A Bad Thing is to show him what he did, and then give him a bath in the sink, and then blow-dry him. Last night he was washed twice, once for knocking over bottles in the cupboard he's not supposed to be in, and once for knocking over stuff on Sis's dresser, eating her bamboo and taking it out of the water, completely drying the roots and killing it.

He was pissed.
running, bomb tech


The other day, I started a cheerful conversation with a friend, only to have this person react in a way I found somewhat unusual. I got a little curious, and danced around the topic for a while, trying to figure out what was going on.

It turned out that my casual comment had hit on one of this person's sore spots, something dating back past the history I knew to something I didn't know, and would have really had no way of knowing, a childhood traumatic experience that had since been affecting their entire outlook on the world. From what I heard, I gathered that it hadn't been dealt with since then, just shoved in a mental closet. Every now and then it popped up out of there, like some obscene jack-in-the-box, and freaked the living daylights out of this person.

I listened, mostly, while my friend spilled the entire story. I really didn't know what to say. I don't tend to have friends with Bad Pasts. All I could really do was listen. The situation was over, resolved, except for its effects on my friend, and they sounded like they really needed to get it out of their heads and shared with someone else, on paper, or what have you, just OUT. Illuminated. Dealt with.

After my friend was done talking, I shared something of my own, a bit of something that had been in my brain for a while stabbing me, something that still bothers me from time to time, though when it happened, and for years afterward, it had really fucked me up. I shared some of the things it did to me and some of the ways it's gotten better, and some of the ways it still fucks with me.

Apparently it helped my friend to get that all talked about. I heard from them later that it wasn't bothering them quite so much anymore. I didn't bring up the subject again.

Sis says that listening is really all you can do, sometimes, and that often it's enough, just to have someone there who actually gives a shit.
running, bomb tech

How to Be Wrong

from my comments in the journal of ras_sinister

They should teach you how to be wrong in schools.

Split the class into three groups and give each group an outdated textbook and tell each group to research [the same thing] and prepare a short speech to the class on it. Make sure they have different wrong information, and that it's a subject that they know little about.

Have each group share what they learned. Allow discussion. Then, at an appropriate time, say, "Class, look at the copyright dates in those books." Hold up your own textbook, with information that is more correct, show the copyright date, and share the current theories on the topic. Say: "Sometimes information is wrong or out of date. Remember, your opinion is only as good as your information."

It might or might not work.

This would be for approximately third grade students, while they're still young enough to think about things without being completely corrupted or hardened (hopefully), but old enough to read, old enough to remember, old enough to think about it a little and have it really sink in to those gummy little brain tissues that are just starting to harden.

It's not the choir you have to preach to, and it's not the brick wall. You forget about the middle ground, the grey area. The kids who are dumb as dirt with less common sense than the average tuft of grass and less willingness to learn than... (an appropriate simile escapes me) will matter nothing. The children who would educate themselves if given a chance, you must treasure and encourage and guide, but they will teach themselves.

It is the ordinary children, the ones who can be made by a good teacher, or broken by a bad teacher, those are the ones you must aim for. (I was on the high end of them -- perhaps I could have fended for myself, educationally, perhaps not. My sister/roommate is one of those who will do for herself in her areas of excellence, but needs a teacher in other areas, and is extremely unteachable in a very few points.) With ordinary children you can make a profound difference. The younger the better.

Of course, then, with younger children, you have to deal more with the parents. It should come to no surprise to you or to anyone that the children who need the most help with learning, the ones who would benefit from it most, need it most, are the ones with the parents who would like it the least. Intelligent, informed parents tend, as a rule, to bring up intelligent, informed children. Likewise for the uninformed parents.
running, bomb tech

Artificial Cherry

If there is ever a sex robot with an artificial personality that is reloaded every time before it is used, and a body that never changes in any significant manner from use... it a virgin its first time?

...its second time?

and so on?

...if there is no change?
running, bomb tech


My friend Dave, the one last heard from in Germany (Army; I worry) says he loves golf.

What he does, you see, is he shows his appreciation for the sport in the following way: he takes a golf ball with him to the shooting range, and proceeds to blow the hell out of it.

I appreciate Dave so much.

In any case, Darkside's father has decided that for Family Time, he and Darkside will do golf on Sunday mornings. (Darkside is not happy with this.) Sunday mornings was when I was to have my Paranoia game, but if Darkside's not there, this provides me with no real reason to GM. Tonight, I called to say hi to Darkside, and as he came to the phone, I heard his dad say in the background, "Call her back."

"Hi," Darkside said glumly.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Golf," he said, sounding darker than usual, and not in one of the humorous ways.
"I'm sorry."
"Talk to you tomorrow in school," he said, and that was it.

I was hoping for a conversation; we didn't get much of a chance to actually talk today. Something interesting came up in Visual Basic, and I'd been hoping for a chance to giggle about it over the phone with him. We are to write programs for a final project, and the single person project is a coin flip program. I had thought up a cheat option -- you see, occasionally Sis amuses herself by guessing which side the coin will land on, and she has a rather high success rate.

My planned cheat: depending on which variation of her name she enters into the "player name" category, to give her either 100% or near accuracy, or the same rate of failure. It would either amuse her or freak her -- that's why I'd have to be standing by to explain it when she started to get that look on her face.

But it would be funny as hell.
running, bomb tech

Perception of Personality

Had an interesting discussion with Darkside today. He keeps claiming I'm evil, I'm evil, I need to make an effort to stay out of trouble, I'm evil. Half of it is joking, half of it isn't. I keep telling him that I'm not, I'm not, I'm actually mostly good.

"I know you, Azz."

No, Darkside, you don't.

"You keep saying there's a lot more to you, but every time I see you, all I get to see is the perky goth. You need a copy of Clanbook Perky."

"That's because you only get to see me around you."

That's about how we left it.

Thing is, being near Darkside supercharges me with a whole hell of a lot of energy. I can't express this in very many other acceptable ways other than becoming hyper. Sis has seen a far more representative sample of my emotional and physical states, and knows that artistic trance of some sort or other is far more typical -- writing, or reading, usually. I can be lethargic, I can be energetic, I can be angry, I can be sleepy -- around Darkside, I am almost always happy. This is not always the case. For years, I varied between intensely happy and intensely sad, in chunks of about a week or two or three. These days, I seem to skip out on the "sad" in favor of outgoing/withdrawn... a marked improvement from the old days.

You don't see any change, Darkside, because you're the primary factor that causes change. Ask Neighbor sometime; he'll be able to give you a much more complete picture of me. He could tell you how my eyes light up when I look at you, how days when you're not there, I drag in and don't seem half as animated... that's my normal self. I'm on overdrive around you, and I need to learn to throttle back.

I love you, and that really fucks with my head.
  • Current Mood
running, bomb tech

Administrative: New default pic

I'm back to my old userpic. I'm not in deep mourning anymore, so I'm back to the blue-haired lunatic picture rather than the crying hitchhiker.