September 2nd, 2008

children of dune - leto 1

inexplicable

Five things about me that I really don't get:

1.) I cannot stop a sudoku puzzle and come back to it later. There are two parts to this.
a.) it's hard to work. I do not know why. There are more numbers now. But it takes a really disturbing amount of time to even figure out why some of them are there, much less start actual work on it again.
b.) when I can get it finished, it lacks the emotional satisfaction. Being a slasher and having written porn for two days straight, I will compare this to coitus interruptus. Sure, you get off after, but you kind of know that it would have been pretty spectacular if the doorbell hadn't rung and scared you to death.

Speaking of--winterlive: WAS IT GOOD FOR YOU OR REALLY DRAMATICALLY BAD?

(no, there was no sexual acts involving flexibility or tragic sledding accidents)

2.) I'm getting slowly more intolerant of processed foods. It's not even an allergy. It's just really uncomfortable and feels wrong, like I am eating something I shouldn't be eating, like, I don't know, paint chips. Frankly, this is seriously disturbing. It's like the day Pepsi betrayed me with Pepsi Zero. I am so not happy about this. No one should have to give up Marie Callendar pot pies.

3.) Seeing nutella in Costco is enough to make me leave the row. Okay, that's not a compulsion, it's that Child really wants it because he knows I hate it, and I'm like those awful indulgent parents you read about who will eventually give in to everything. I told him it was made of the corpses of crushed beetles. Somehow, that just made him want it more. Child is not sane, and I have my doubts on whether he even qualifies as human. Then again, he tells me his communication with his leader has been disrupted by solar flares, so what the hell. Maybe we're still safe for a few more years.

4.) I have to buy Christmas decorations when I see them. My family blocked my path at Costco when I saw they had ornaments up for sale. Thought I might die if I didn't get some. Sanity came with caffeine and Niece II outside and two brownie petites. Speaking of, if you see brownie petites at Costco, buy them. Just saying.

5.) There is no five. I literally forgot what it was. Dammit.
children of dune - leto 1

right. five.

I remember five, but I want to reframe it.

5.) I have very little about my real life I'd be uncomfortable sharing with my flist under lock, and not that much that I don't have public. I honestly am that boring. But while I can work one way, bring my flist into my real life, I don't like doing it the other way around.

I think this reticence hit me as something I was doing consistently and by choice when the open source boob thing hit and I was with some people, still going over a post I'd read in my head, and someone asked me--you know, I don't even know, what was going on, blah blah blah. But I didn't even think to answer it with what had happened. I don't even know if I actually told something that could pass for being true.

I have absolutely no idea why that divide occurred; I didn't even know I was doing it.

My three oldest and closest friends don't have half the context for anything I do or say that a casual surfer into this lj would, and that's weird. There's also this really uncomfortable suspicion that I may actually act completely differently with them than I do with say, anyone I've met online as far as self-editing goes, because I lose a lot of normal interact filters with people who know I'm curious about how certain sexual positions work and inappropriate lube choices. I'm not even talking about performance art LJ--I mean, I wonder if I dragged any of them to a con with me, if we'd even be able to talk.

You know, this is really my own fault. I need more coffee. Existential identity crises do not occur when something with the word "mocha" in the name is being sipped.

I'm half wanting to ask if anyone else thinks about this, but I'm kind of worried about a resounding silence. That does, in fact, mean I would like validation, please. Thank you kindly.