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Mar. 23rd, 1997 08:10 amSunday, March 23, 1997 08:10
I had another of my imagined conversations with Shawn, about the attention of all the guys in the school save him vs. Girl Scout cookies. He would, himself, have chosen the cookies. Clobber. Of course he would! So then I wondered about the attention of him vs. the cookies. He suggested that I give him the cookies. Quite in character. I’m getting so I don’t need the real Shawn anymore, just the slightly Shawn-oid character who sits like Yoda somewhere in my head and talks back when I talk to him. That Shawn definitely balances me. However, this one needs the presence of the real one to keep the program updated, to keep it from degrading into meaningless garble that I would have a very tough time getting a sensible answer out of.
My imagination works overtime, doesn’t it! Actually, that Shawn-in-my-head isn’t so much of a threat to the real guy as the real guy would probably think. Yoda-Shawn is just there to talk things out with, to listen to me when I go into one of my rambling internal monologues (bless you, Emmie, for coming up with that one) and to give me someone to lean on when I need it. If I want something else, then I’m going to have to make my imagination work. Serious.
So, what is this for the Joan/Kim score? Well, he’s used her name on me four times (that I know of) and he’s used my name on her twice (that I know of). Hmm. It looks like she’s an important part of his life, but I’m in there as well. Strange Joani Laurel.
I wonder if Little One is back this morning? Best not to call until maybe noon, eh?
I need a nickname for Shawn. A working nickname, one that’s not so mushy that he gets offended or freaked out, but logical and meaningful, and not demeaning. Hmm. I wonder…okay, I could call him by the name of that swordsman-guy who is the joking nickname for all fencers—d’Argantan? but I don’t especially know how to spell that, and even less how to pronounce it, and even less of the historical background behind it. Y’see, I know it has something to do with fencing, but what I don’t know. The Three Musketeers, maybe? Who knows. I don’t! So I’ll have to find something more appropriate to call him, something that wouldn’t be insulting, because he’s not all that wonderful of a fencer. I’d be much, much better if I weren’t asleep on my feet.
Shawn called. He had an interesting time in Anchorage. I still need to cry on his shoulder. Kim suggests testing his gross-out threshold by describing menstrual blood to him. I just got my period today, which is kinda annoying. Fertility is sometimes inconvenient. (That was one of Saavik’s favorite words.) I censored my description of his acting to him. I decided that tact was necessary, and I think I did a good job of that. I still need to cry on his shoulder. Soon. Very soon.
I had another of my imagined conversations with Shawn, about the attention of all the guys in the school save him vs. Girl Scout cookies. He would, himself, have chosen the cookies. Clobber. Of course he would! So then I wondered about the attention of him vs. the cookies. He suggested that I give him the cookies. Quite in character. I’m getting so I don’t need the real Shawn anymore, just the slightly Shawn-oid character who sits like Yoda somewhere in my head and talks back when I talk to him. That Shawn definitely balances me. However, this one needs the presence of the real one to keep the program updated, to keep it from degrading into meaningless garble that I would have a very tough time getting a sensible answer out of.
My imagination works overtime, doesn’t it! Actually, that Shawn-in-my-head isn’t so much of a threat to the real guy as the real guy would probably think. Yoda-Shawn is just there to talk things out with, to listen to me when I go into one of my rambling internal monologues (bless you, Emmie, for coming up with that one) and to give me someone to lean on when I need it. If I want something else, then I’m going to have to make my imagination work. Serious.
So, what is this for the Joan/Kim score? Well, he’s used her name on me four times (that I know of) and he’s used my name on her twice (that I know of). Hmm. It looks like she’s an important part of his life, but I’m in there as well. Strange Joani Laurel.
I wonder if Little One is back this morning? Best not to call until maybe noon, eh?
I need a nickname for Shawn. A working nickname, one that’s not so mushy that he gets offended or freaked out, but logical and meaningful, and not demeaning. Hmm. I wonder…okay, I could call him by the name of that swordsman-guy who is the joking nickname for all fencers—d’Argantan? but I don’t especially know how to spell that, and even less how to pronounce it, and even less of the historical background behind it. Y’see, I know it has something to do with fencing, but what I don’t know. The Three Musketeers, maybe? Who knows. I don’t! So I’ll have to find something more appropriate to call him, something that wouldn’t be insulting, because he’s not all that wonderful of a fencer. I’d be much, much better if I weren’t asleep on my feet.
Shawn called. He had an interesting time in Anchorage. I still need to cry on his shoulder. Kim suggests testing his gross-out threshold by describing menstrual blood to him. I just got my period today, which is kinda annoying. Fertility is sometimes inconvenient. (That was one of Saavik’s favorite words.) I censored my description of his acting to him. I decided that tact was necessary, and I think I did a good job of that. I still need to cry on his shoulder. Soon. Very soon.
