April 23rd, 2003

running, bomb tech

Silly girl.

You know who is allowed to second-guess you.

You know who is allowed to second-guess you about your own knowledge of yourself.

The first category includes a lot of people. The second category includes Darkside and your priestess-confessor. Why those two?

Because out of everyone in the world, so far those two have demonstrated to know you so well that either they guess right and you can feel it gut-deep, they know and you can feel it, or they're wrong, and you know that too, and you can tell them.

They do not pose to you questions that have you doubting your senses and the validity of them. They have mastered the trick of questioning your interpretations without ever casting doubt upon your own mastery of your own senses. They know that your senses will never feed you false data, and they make sure you know that you know this.

They trust you to let them know when they're right and when they're very wrong. This way, they can make the judgements that you lack the perspective to make.

For me to mistrust my senses will make me crazy. I must trust that they feed me true data when they are worthy of that trust and I know it; I must hold them at their worth in ambiguous situations. I do not expect my eyes to give me true color at midnight wearing sunglasses. I do not expect my bare eyes to give me true focus. I do not expect my brain to give me the true order of the letters on the first glance. I do not expect the sudden scent of marshmellows or Darkside's uniform to mean that someone is making s'mores ten feet away or my beloved best friend is standing upwind of me; my nose is known to hallucinate both of those things on occasion.

I know the limits of my own senses. I know where I am likely to be fooling myself. I know that I can take anything I am concerned with to Darkside or iroshi, and they will hammer my head on straight if need be. I know that neither of them will mince words if I really truly do need to hear something.

I know that neither of them would ever harm me, even though both of them have done stuff that has stung and smarted for a while.

They know how to not make me doubt myself. They know how to correct my perceptions. They can help me see my blind spots, and if I persist in not seeing them, they will firmly point them out to me, without making me doubt that I see other objects in my rearview mirrors that they have not noticed...
sad, greensad

Why it hurts

Figured out why Darkside making the odd casual tease about my weight bothers me.

votania can get away with it all she wants, because even if I were a supermodel, she'd still never sleep with me.
running, bomb tech

Trust

There are people, certain people, whose opinions I trust.

Some of them haven't learned the nuances of how I speak and think yet.

When I say, "I don't think this will work," about something I'm doing, with the inflection that means, "I'm really serious, I mean this, and I say this after hours mulling it over", the response "Just give the guy a chance!" said with the "I know you're hung up on the other guy, but many fish, big sea" inflection, says to me that the person who's advising me to give the guy a chance doubts the validity of my certainty that it's not going to work.

Which says, to the undermind, that they don't trust my perceptions.
And the undermind says, "Well, you trust THEIR perceptions, don't you? Maybe they've got a point."

So, against your better judgement, you extend the "chance"... and you were right. It wasn't going to work. You knew it. You knew it already.

...You just doubted yourself.
running, bomb tech

Points of Contact

When I'm getting to know you, this is how I am.

At first, I really want to get to know you. This is because I don't know you as well as I ought to. I will proceed to get to know you.

At a certain point, whether this is an hour after we've met, two days, two weeks, a month... I will reach a decision point.

Either you are a person that I am interested in getting to know further, much more deeply, or you are a person I am content to remain at this level of knowledge of, or you are a person that I should not know this well.

Based on this, different things will happen.

If I am interested in getting to know you further, I will continue to pursue deeper knowledge of you, sharing deeper information of myself. If I am content to let things remain as they are, I will remain cordial, but further in-depth information about me will not be forthcoming, and I will cease efforts at getting to know you better. If I don't wish to know you that well, I will be actively cool and actively discourage efforts on your part to continue to know me.

(Sadly, some people I don't know that well who I have no interest in knowing further but do wish to maintain contact with may interpret my cessation of getting-to-know-you-better activities as active discouragement of further contact. I'll be working on how to make my actions not as easily misinterpreted in the future.)

But, if I am in a romantic-type relationship with someone, and have no wish to know them further... that relationship is Doomed. Not because I am not giving them a chance, but because they have completed the period of initial testing, and I am just not interested in getting to know them more deeply.

That's not to say that I don't get to know friends-I-don't-need-to-know-more-about deeply. It's just not a drive. If it happens, it happens, but that sort of thing accretes through continued contact, rather than being actively pursued by all parties.

I have never been able to continue a romantic relationship with someone that I don't wish to know any better. No fault of theirs: I'm just not interested. Fuckbuddies, fine. Dating, no. But the spark usually goes out of the sex...
running, bomb tech

Eee gods. ...This is supposed to be fic.

Author: azurelunatic
Title: untitled
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 for implied hanky-panky
Pairings: Peeves/Potter

I blame McTabby for this one.



Professor Snape looked out over his classroom. Everyone was hard at work on their potions, or at least pretending to be. With one exception. One notable exception.

That insufferable snot Malfoy was bent over his workbench, chopping ingredients and doubtless plotting his next move in the tiresome Slytherin/Gryffindor feud. The promising Granger was lecturing Longbottom about what he'd done this time. With any luck, her influence would make the child not an active menace to his colleagues.

But no. Potter. Not only was he paying a distinct lack of attention to his lab partner's activities, but he was staring off into space, with glazed eyes and a flushed face. Perhaps he had inhaled some fumes at the wrong moment? Snape put down his quill and swept over to Potter.

"Is everything quite in order, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

Potter jumped.

"Yes, Professor!" he gulped, face paleing.

"Then perhaps you will not mind sharing what is so fascinating about the corner of the room?" Snape asked. Potter was displaying a level of 'not on task' far higher than normal, and if he'd gotten a snootful of the catastrophe that Longbottom had brewed, it would be best to get him to the infirmary.

"Nothing," Potter said. His robes rearranged themselves suddenly, and Potter kicked surruptitiously at something under the desk.

Snape peered, and was just able to make out the half-visible form of Peeves. He pointed his wand at the poltergeist, as Potter cringed.

"You," Snape ordered the ghost. "OUT of my lab. I will not stand for further interruptions, and I suggest you remember what I can and will do." The wand twitched ever so slightly, and Peeves bolted, but not before making Potter twitch again.

"I do not want to know, Potter," Snape said, with a note of finality. "I do not. Ensure that it never happens within my sight again." And he strode away firmly.




Review? Am feedback slut.
running, bomb tech

Evidently...

Evidently my calling as a fanfic writer is to deeply disturb others.
running, bomb tech

GHA.

SQL. I can do *calculated* columns just fine, but I'm not sure how to handle this one that says to have it say "High-priced" in a column if the price is above 16000. GHA.

Help?
running, bomb tech

Ooooo...kay.

So, I'm almost done with the lab for Oracle. Go, me.

I just have to figure out how to do that pesky thing.

Also, getting shocked out of programmingtrance by a kid trying to talk to me is Not Pleasant.
running, bomb tech

Grouch, grouch.

Little Fayoumis sounds upset with me because I'm working, and he's coming to talk to me, and he's getting grumpy replies along the lines of, "Little Fayoumis. Am I working, or am I playing?"

I use the questioning-method of teaching him stuff so he will learn to ask those questions to himself when looking at situations.
running, bomb tech

Amusing.

The phrase, "groinal appendage" is inherently funny.
running, bomb tech

Administrative:

Hello, raven. The only thing we seem to have friends or interest-wise in common is chaos, but that's cool. This is a high-volume journal.
running, bomb tech

Silence

It happens every now and then. I invade space, without realizing it, and then I get grumped at for it.

I was just trying to keep connection.

But when I tread on toes while trying to do that, I retreat back into myself, and become silent...