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dragonlady7Today was basically wasted. I was out until 3:30 last night, which is about the latest I've stayed out in, er, an embarrassingly long time. I had two drinks, everyone else had a lot more, and I wound up at The Towne, an all-night diner at the corner of one of the busiest "nightlife" streets in Buffalo, at almost 3 am, with two really entertainingly drunk teammates.
My favorite bits of the drunken conversation featured one woman's assertion that she was going to "Fuck you in the ass with my own dick!" which upon repetition became "Fuck you in the dick with my own ass!" and which I strongly suspect had initially been intended as "Fuck you in the ass with your own dick". But it didn't really matter.
The other bit I liked was that at one point I was recounting an earlier conversation, and uttered the phrase, "So I asked, 'Could you stab someone in the eye with this pen?'-- um, which is not at all a weird thing to say, I promise it made sense at the time." The person to whom I was speaking last night simply nodded as though he understood, though I haven't any faith he did.
The thing is, it did make sense-- we were in a military installation and I had to borrow a pen, and I wanted to know if it was a military pen and if so, whether it was actually useful in combat. I maintain this was a perfectly logical question.
More troubling was when the person sitting next to me said, "I've stabbed a man in the eye with a pen."
"You have?" I asked, shocked. "Uh, did it work?"
She nodded. "Got his attention."
I considered that. "Uh... do you... does someone really, well, survive that?"
She looked thoughtful. "Not really," she answered.
I know some rather alarming people.
It was really fascinating for me to mull over on my overtired drive home how strange a relationship I have with my teammates. I know I've pondered this before and failed to address it properly, so this is bound to be another unsuccessful attempt, I fear. But I try.
Several of them are people I wouldn't even be friends with but for this-- somewhat like blood relatives.
My older sister, for example-- we're just very different people, with different values, different interpretations of the same events, different understandings of the world. We don't always get along-- my conversational style irritates her, and her inexplicable priorities baffle me. But we're sisters, and so we can pretty much live through anything together and still be speaking at the end.
Likewise with several of my teammates. I had to walk away from a conversation that infuriated me, finding the worldview and perspective on current events too incompatible with mine. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't (and don't routinely) risk personal injury on their behalf. You don't have to like someone all that much to love them. Which is really fascinating to ponder, as it's not one that really gets all that much 'play' in the popular representations of our culture. You don't even have to really like someone that much to enjoy their company immensely, in its own way. It's just more difficult. And perhaps "like" isn't the word I was looking for. You don't have to be terribly compatible with someone, perhaps I should say. ...
I've been having problems lately with social awkwardness issues-- just not feeling comfortable in my own skin during interactions with other people. I had a nice heart-to-heart with one teammate who has similar problems sometimes. She has the excuse, perhaps, of a really wretched upbringing riddled with neglect and a lack of parental involvement-- she explained that it took her until college to understand that other people were as important as she was. I countered by saying I have had the same issue, and still struggle with it, but in my case, I was raised in a very supportive and loving environment surrounded by siblings and anchored with a very stable parental relationship. People just experience the world differently.
But I wasn't feeling those issues last night, which was a nice change. I was dressed like a total freak-- my shirt clashed with my skirt, I was wearing white socks and closed-toe shoes with a below-the-knee skirt, for reals, and my hair was in total wild disarray and needed rebraiding, but I didn't have time to go home and change before the meeting. But somehow it didn't bother me. Normally if I go out in an outfit that I feel isn't well-chosen I feel really funny about it. Not feeling funny was kind of a nice change from my norm.
But anyway.
That wasn't a very successful set of ruminations. But I try, it's how I keep my thoughts organized.
I woke this morning after less than 4 hours of sleep, in horrible pain. I had the worst cramps in recent memory, for about an hour, and then they eased and I have been OK, if grumpy and sore, all day. I have not accomplished very much, but I hope I will be useful later tonight. Trying to catch up on email, which I'm sorely behind on. Ungh, I'm still groggy. I hate that, and most of all hate that I'm so old that I can't cope with a little sleep irregularity. Bleh.
My favorite bits of the drunken conversation featured one woman's assertion that she was going to "Fuck you in the ass with my own dick!" which upon repetition became "Fuck you in the dick with my own ass!" and which I strongly suspect had initially been intended as "Fuck you in the ass with your own dick". But it didn't really matter.
The other bit I liked was that at one point I was recounting an earlier conversation, and uttered the phrase, "So I asked, 'Could you stab someone in the eye with this pen?'-- um, which is not at all a weird thing to say, I promise it made sense at the time." The person to whom I was speaking last night simply nodded as though he understood, though I haven't any faith he did.
The thing is, it did make sense-- we were in a military installation and I had to borrow a pen, and I wanted to know if it was a military pen and if so, whether it was actually useful in combat. I maintain this was a perfectly logical question.
More troubling was when the person sitting next to me said, "I've stabbed a man in the eye with a pen."
"You have?" I asked, shocked. "Uh, did it work?"
She nodded. "Got his attention."
I considered that. "Uh... do you... does someone really, well, survive that?"
She looked thoughtful. "Not really," she answered.
I know some rather alarming people.
It was really fascinating for me to mull over on my overtired drive home how strange a relationship I have with my teammates. I know I've pondered this before and failed to address it properly, so this is bound to be another unsuccessful attempt, I fear. But I try.
Several of them are people I wouldn't even be friends with but for this-- somewhat like blood relatives.
My older sister, for example-- we're just very different people, with different values, different interpretations of the same events, different understandings of the world. We don't always get along-- my conversational style irritates her, and her inexplicable priorities baffle me. But we're sisters, and so we can pretty much live through anything together and still be speaking at the end.
Likewise with several of my teammates. I had to walk away from a conversation that infuriated me, finding the worldview and perspective on current events too incompatible with mine. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't (and don't routinely) risk personal injury on their behalf. You don't have to like someone all that much to love them. Which is really fascinating to ponder, as it's not one that really gets all that much 'play' in the popular representations of our culture. You don't even have to really like someone that much to enjoy their company immensely, in its own way. It's just more difficult. And perhaps "like" isn't the word I was looking for. You don't have to be terribly compatible with someone, perhaps I should say. ...
I've been having problems lately with social awkwardness issues-- just not feeling comfortable in my own skin during interactions with other people. I had a nice heart-to-heart with one teammate who has similar problems sometimes. She has the excuse, perhaps, of a really wretched upbringing riddled with neglect and a lack of parental involvement-- she explained that it took her until college to understand that other people were as important as she was. I countered by saying I have had the same issue, and still struggle with it, but in my case, I was raised in a very supportive and loving environment surrounded by siblings and anchored with a very stable parental relationship. People just experience the world differently.
But I wasn't feeling those issues last night, which was a nice change. I was dressed like a total freak-- my shirt clashed with my skirt, I was wearing white socks and closed-toe shoes with a below-the-knee skirt, for reals, and my hair was in total wild disarray and needed rebraiding, but I didn't have time to go home and change before the meeting. But somehow it didn't bother me. Normally if I go out in an outfit that I feel isn't well-chosen I feel really funny about it. Not feeling funny was kind of a nice change from my norm.
But anyway.
That wasn't a very successful set of ruminations. But I try, it's how I keep my thoughts organized.
I woke this morning after less than 4 hours of sleep, in horrible pain. I had the worst cramps in recent memory, for about an hour, and then they eased and I have been OK, if grumpy and sore, all day. I have not accomplished very much, but I hope I will be useful later tonight. Trying to catch up on email, which I'm sorely behind on. Ungh, I'm still groggy. I hate that, and most of all hate that I'm so old that I can't cope with a little sleep irregularity. Bleh.
