2. Then post this in your LJ and elaborate on the subjects given.
lasayla gave me: Blue, geek, faith, adapt, love
This is the easy one. It's in my username. I'm not just crazy. I'm a blue kind of crazy. My thing with the color blue dates back to a little trivia piece in Ranger Rick that showed the results of a survey on popularity of favorite colors. Blue was the most popular favorite color. I, for some reason that must have made sense to my tiny little mind, decided that I should have this favorite color too. Unlike Rocki the Red, I did not get all crazy about my favorite color. It was just what it was.
At age 15, pyrogenic, brooklynmili, and a few others and I decided that we were going to dye our hair blue. This was a pivotal decision that would stick with me, rather than a passing whim, as I still prefer to think of myself with blue hair. Unfortunately, our plans were scuttled by a watchful RA, and we returned home without any major changes in hair color.
Even though I wear primarily black, my favorite color is still blue. It varies -- some days I may prefer the pure, luminous blue of copper sulfate, some days I may prefer the somber navy of the glittering night sky, and some days I may prefer the color that's barely more blue than grey, smoke condensed from the living air. These are my colors.
I was raised by a rocket scientist. No, really. My father, until his retirement, worked at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks, as a programmer, with the department studying the Aurora Borealis and other interesting bits of solar and space activity. This occasionally meant having fun at the rocket range. I was raised by the kind of person who found it amusing and logically correct to answer "Yes" to the question of "Would you like pancakes or waffles?" -- as an "or" is true if either condition is true.
I should become resigned to the fact that 1995 was a significant year. pyrogenic was involved in this as well. He was hot. I had met him because of a Star Trek-related incident with sidewalk chalk. He was a geek. Upon returning home, I ran across a print copy of The New Hacker's Dictionary in the library, and read it from cover to cover, on the premise that if I was in love with a geek, I might as well read up on them. It was like coming home. These were my people. I'd been raised by one. I embraced my true culture, with the expectation that it would embrace me in return, and it did not disappoint.
I have done tech support for a living. I do tech support for fun. I know the basics of programming, and know my way around the average Windows desktop machine, and can read reference materials well enough to pick up the use of new programs quickly, and become not-lost in the Mac quickly. I like Star Trek, Star Wars, Dr. Horrible, random obscure science fiction and fantasy books from the 1960s, the X-Files, and write my own fantasy novels when I run out of stuff to read. I correct the Klingon spelling of Google employees while in an IRC channel ostensibly about a website and the development thereof. (You don't spell qa'pla with a k, for the record. :-P ) I think I might be a bit of a geek.
There's a blaze of light in every word; it doesn't matter which you heard: the holy or the broken hallelujah. Related to the 'geek' concept, one of the books most instrumental to my adult formation of reality and religion was dduane's Spock's World. Vulcans, according to that book, have a sense, a'tha, a calm certainty that the universe was created and is looked after by a Power. Along with many other ideas from that book, I examined the concept and found the same in myself. (Kirk was envious of Spock's certainty, although Spock assured him that the certainty only raises more questions.)
That conviction carried me into an exploration of religion. It's stuck with me even while religion has ceased to be one of the primary motivating forces in my life. I don't hold with many of the trappings and bells and whistles that religions have come down with, even the minor and light bells and whistles that your average coven has about, but nonetheless my faith sticks clear with me. Were I Charles Darwin, I would not declare "I have discovered Evolution: there is no God;" I would have instead declared, "I have discovered the mechanism by which God created us."
If you had to pin a religion on me, I would be somewhere in the Deist/Unitarian/Pagan camps, but generally hanging around the edges and not getting involved too heavily with either religious debate or group religious practice.
History shows that in fact I can adapt to many, many things. I adapted to life in public school, from home, even though I did not like it much. I was the weird one who didn't have a TV, dumped into the middle of a horde of six-year-old ruffians. I managed to survive. I likewise survived adolescent-onset depression, a voluntary uprooting from a very chilly part of Alaska into a very hot part of Arizona, life with a four-year-old when I was 95% convinced I actually wanted to be childfree, a job as a telephone survey research representative, and tech support. Sometimes the adaptation required an extra personality or two to face whatever it was, if it was a role that I didn't feel comfortable integrating into my daily life as me. Sometimes it didn't.
I started falling in love around age 5 or so. I am wired polyamorous, so I fall in love at the drop of a hat. This gave me plenty of opportunity to get practiced with it, get it wrong, and make a general idiot of myself. I think that I finally stopped being a complete blithering idiot with it, and switched to just blithering, after about 20 years of practice. I've learned, now, that I'm not to trust any attachment until it's persisted for more than two or three months. I can hold multiple threads of affection at once. I pair-bond strongly, although I'm polyamorous, so this means I tend to go into a primary/tertiary model, based on the amount of attention and connectedness I share.
Currently, I adore my best friend, and he's awfully fond of me after a certain platonic fashion. It's not really something that requires understanding from other people, but it makes me a little happy when people do try to understand it. It is something that glues me together and brings me joy. I may be inconstant and flighty to others, but to him may I be eternal. He and I have worked out many, many of the little details that make it possible for us to exist in harmony. When I try to articulate just what he means to me, I'm sometimes reduced to adolescent babbling. He is the resolution to my chord. He is water of just the right temperature. He is Mythbusters Mondays and dying laughing over in-jokes. In my head, I address him with words that may or may not exist in English, or any language, to say briefly what he has become to me: treasured, beloved, stability, first above all others, friend, comfort, himself; himself more than all. He gave me myself, so I would give me back to him, whole and entire.