tiger_spot

1. I believe people when they tell me things.

I don't believe advertisers or other people who have something obvious to gain from lying, and I don't necessarily believe people who are telling me verifiable facts about the world that don't seem to mesh well with what I already know, but I do believe people when they tell me things about themselves. Things like "I'll be there at noon."

It gets me in trouble sometimes.


2. Unspecified "we".

Once upon a time, when I said "We went hiking this weekend," that meant my parents and my sibling and me. These days, it could mean anybody at all (and me), and I'm terrible about remembering to say who was with me when. I'll say things like "We saw Kooza!" and "Then we went off to dinner at Marie Callender's" and never specify who "we" is (seven people in the first instance, five in the second). I'm actually much better about this on LiveJournal than in person or on instant messenger, because I can look back over the post and go "Oh, before I put the funny thing so-and-so said in the last paragraph, I should probably mention that he was there" and go add that helpful background information to the first paragraph.


3. I think everybody knows everything.

Not everybody everybody, but once I've told three or four people about something, some little switch in my brain flicks over to "everybody knows that" and I sort of assume I've told everyone I'd expect to have told. LiveJournal is particularly bad for this, although enough repetitions of "I told you that!" "No you didn't." "But I posted about it on LiveJournal! I must have told you!" have at least trained andres_s_p_b to read the darn thing occasionally. Also, if I have been meaning to tell someone something for long enough that I've planned specific bits of phrasing to use, sometimes I forget whether I actually said it or only thought it.

Recent examples: A friend from TAMS first realized I had a boyfriend more than two years after we started dating. (How many of you knew I went to TAMS?) Today I was amused by a long list of viola jokes, and andres_s_p_b was confused -- "But you've never played violin or viola or cello!" he said. "Yes I have," I said. And yet he complains that he's heard all my stories. Clearly not.

Relatedly, I often mention things in very casual, tangential ways without realizing quite how tangential and casual they actually are. I think I've given someone a brief outline or portion of a situation, with an opportunity to inquire further if they are interested, and the other person doesn't realize there was a situation to be inquired about. (This fed into the friend-didn't-know-about-boyfriend-for-two-years incident: I had mentioned him -- in a how-I-met-my-partners context, even -- but the friend didn't realize that was a current relationship. Then, when I mentioned the boyfriend more later [instead of using unspecified "we"s, go me], the friend didn't remember the name and therefore had no idea I was talking about a romantic relationship. Not that he should be expected to! I thought for sure I'd given him the background at some point.)


4. I expect people to ask questions when they are confused.

I don't know why; they hardly ever do. But for some reason, I still think that when people are confused about something, they'll ask me about it, either when it comes up in conversation or when presented with an opportunity like this one. (If it's important and it's bothering them, I even expect them to bring it up on their own, some time after it's been particularly confusing. This is why I don't usually realize when people are missing fairly basic information; they don't ask about it, so I never twig to the confusion.)

Personally, I don't ask a whole lot of questions. I very much like learning about people, but I'm happy to learn whatever they want to tell me rather than hunting specific pieces of information. Way back when I was in the Puzzle Pirates beta, my mom joined the crew I'd been sailing with for a month or so, and asked everyone all these very basic questions -- "What do you do for a living? How old are you? Where do you live? What's your name?" -- that it had just never occurred to me to ask. I'll ask questions about things as they come up, to keep a conversation going or if something intriguing is mentioned, but I don't tend to produce questions on my own.

I'm not sure if that makes expecting other people to do it weirder or not.

So a little while ago, figleaves.com was having a swimwear sale. I've been looking for a swimsuit that fits for no-kidding years, so I figured I might as well give it a try and see if I got lucky. And, hey, free returns.

( Ranting. But no pictures. )

On the plus side, the other box that was waiting on the porch has four brand-new shiny CDs in it. Mmmmm, German synthpop. Nom nom nom.

(Why I don't friends-lock talking about bras and stuff: Because I felt like a total freak until I realized that it's not me, it's the fashion industry. Other people are my size. [Additional other people are a wide variety of different sizes. None of us can find clothes in department stores.] If I can do my little bit to shorten the feeling-like-a-freak of the next woman, I will have done some good in the world.)

Different people have different social expectations sometimes. Here are some of mine:

1. If I invite you to a party, you can bring significant others or friends, as long as you think they'll get along with me.

2. I'd prefer to know whether or not you're coming (and bringing anyone else, and if so who) to an event in advance, because if there are a lot of people who haven't said one way or the other, I will (a) be insecure about it and (b) wind up with enormous quantities of leftover food.

3. If I invite you to anything smaller or more specific than a party (dinner out, gaming of some sort), you can ask if you can bring someone who's into whatever-it-is, but please don't just show up with them.

4. I like taking turns. If I'm doing something one-on-one or in very small groups, I prefer that invitations be reasonably equally distributed; if I've been doing all the inviting (especially if the invitations mostly aren't accepted), I'll eventually stop until the ratio's back to something I like better. This also applies to e-mail, and theoretically to phone calls (although I'm not real fond of telephones). It doesn't apply to parties; I don't mind if you come to my parties but don't ever host anything.

5. If I invite you to do something one-on-one, and you can't make it or don't want to go, it's your turn. If you don't suggest some other time, or other activity, I'll assume you don't want to spend time with me and will probably stop asking you to.

6. If e-mail has a question mark in it, it should get a response. Otherwise, it'll get a response if I have something substantial to say, but I don't always have a lot to say.

7. I like small-group interactions (4-6 people) best, because then I don't have to put out a lot of effort to keep a conversation going and I can still hear everybody.

I didn't do that Johari thing the first time it came around, but I have just spotted it in the wild again[1]. So, hey, why not?

( Discussion will skew the results, so if you want to fill it out, go do that first. )


[1] For values of 'wild' equal to 'serenejournal'.

I'm a little odd about music. (I'm a little odd about a lot of things.) One of the ways I'm odd about it that I don't like songs the first time I hear them[1]. I can often tell that I'm going to like a song, but I usually don't really like it until I've heard it through a couple of times and gotten to know it a little better. When I get a new CD, I tend to listen through it once, then go back and repeat it several times, focusing on the songs I like best. When I get to liking a new song, I want to listen to it over and over and over, which drives other people in my vicinity completely nuts. I am very happy that (a) headphones and (b) digital media, which let me go "Again! Again!" without having to muck about with rewind buttons, exist.

So Friday before last, I spent pretty much the entire morning cycling between three new songs, with occasional excursions to the rest of the album (Land Dispute, by ThouShaltNot). The interesting thing about these three songs is that they happen to illustrate the three categories of lyrics that I like. Therefore, I shall tell you about them in excruciating detail!

( Excruciating detail )

Rather suddenly, yesterday, ::whumph:: I felt better. Way better.

I don't really expect it to last; there's still lots to fix, so I will keep on with that and continue paying careful attention to mood management[1]. But it is very nice.

So this is my three-step plan for Fixing My Life:
1. Correct minor irritations.
2. Make improvements.
3. Add new things.

I have made rather a lot of progress on step 1. So far I have gotten a new watch, so I don't have to fiddle with / think about / look at / be distressed by the sticky-out bit of the disintegrating band of the old one[2], found new sunglasses that fulfill all my criteria[3], and finished re-ripping the CDs I needed to fix the track information in iTunes. Tidying things up also goes in this category; stuff being in my way when I want to sit somewhere or use something is distinctly annoying, as is looking at dust and crumbs and so forth.

Still to come are continued maintenance cleaning, seeing if I can get the new watch to a size between "a bit tight" and "too loose to fasten the catch" (this will require tools), and arranging a hook of some sort for this headset[4]. And whatever else comes up. It helps if I let myself get distracted -- if I'm in the middle of a larger project, and notice some little annoying thing, I should fix it right then, and then finish the larger project, rather than trying to remember it and make space for it later. Speaking of which -- there, hook installed.

Step 2, making improvements, will involve more cleaning, of the organizing / throwing things out sort. I've done some of this already, but there are quite a few areas of the house that are stuffed with crap. It's not in my way, so it's not making anything worse, but it would be better if we got rid of the bits we don't want and packed the rest into the most space-efficient storage possible. It will also include steps to improve the job situation, small quantities of stuff acquisition (brown shoes, music, etc.), and getting my finances in order[5].

I'm not sure what goes in step 3 yet. Kayaking, I think, or some other kind of new and different activity. Working on some of the projects I've been meaning to start / get back to (a story or two, Physics for Pirates, learning CSS and JavaScript). Presumably, by the time I have got steps 1 and 2 mostly done, I will be feeling enough better that doing things will start to sound like fun again, and good things to do will present themselves.






[1] This is the main thing I have learned: When I get like this, I need to stop paying attention to what I feel like doing, and just think about what I will feel like after I do things. I don't feel like exercising, but I need it. I don't feel like listening to blisteringly peppy music, but I'll feel better afterward. Etc. It's an oddly detached way to run my life, but it seems to be working.

[2] Apparently my skin exudes some kind of powerful leather-destroying acid. The new watch is metal, which is much nicer.

[3]
* polarized
* gray lenses (green or blue would also have been acceptable)
* comfortable
* not stupid-looking
* sufficiently large
They are awesome. I am pleased. I have properly protected peripheral vision. Andres says I look like a motorcycle cop.

[4] My parents requested that I sign up for Skype and get a headset so I can talk to them. Since the headset needs to be plugged in at the back of the computer, it's a bit of an annoyance to get out and set up every time it's needed, but it's in the way on the desk. Therefore, I shall put a hook on the back of the filing cabinet from which it can hang when not in use, so it is within reach but out of sight.

[5] And over the course of last week, I found most of the information I need to do this. The trick is breaking the changes up into teeny-tiny steps. No individual little bit of change -- opening an account, closing an account, calling a company with questions -- is really all that difficult, but in the aggregate it seems very overwhelming. Financial stuff is unreasonably difficult for me.

Some of these work quite well. (I think it's stable; it's showed me the same ones from work and home. If it goes bad, I'm saving off the best ones and I can put them up later, but really a surprisingly high fraction are amusing. Also I'm lazy. So you should just go click that link up there. That one. Yes.)

By serenejournal. I answered in comments, but I may as well put it up here, too, so the rest of you can slavishly follow every wondrous dripping of my pen read it if you want to.

( Cut for being all about me, me, me, me, and also me. )

Monday evening:
* cat-scratch (he's cute, but vicious)

Tuesday:
* paper cut