Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2014-02-17 04:53 am
azurelunatic) wrote2014-02-17 04:53 am
Green beans, girlfriend, calculator.
A quiet Sunday.
Came home in a state of general delight and pleasure with the world, wrote up Saturday's happenings. Conked out in bed at something approaching a reasonable hour. Slept until early afternoon, as one does.
A further note: those thin black drink-straws really don't work well as chopsticks for ice cubes. I was SO CLOSE, though.
Embarked on various bits of reading, both off internet and on. Did some minor tidying and/or dishes.
Eventually I realized that it was getting on in hours and my fitbit was telling me I was behind on steps for the day. (I try to aim for at least the goal, but no higher than double.) So I moved myself with my chat withsithjawa on my phone to the bouncy-ball, and there spent a reasonably instructive hour allowing my abdominal muscles to stand in for legs.
zarhooie was having various Adventures of Road. Snow was not meant to travel in a sideways direction, no, not even in Minnesnowda.
I finished up reading Archer's Goon, which I found good.
I realized when his shoe hit the step and he looked at it.
The tooth marks on my copy look like either a staple-remover or a cat.
A friend observed that Purple went from zero to Trusted very fast (for me)! This is true. It was not a bad thing, it is a thing. Which has happened. I do seem to have a bit of a Type, and a large part of that Type is in mindshape. (Perhaps fortunately, my safeguards attempt to keep me from having as Type a person who I could not be friends with if romantical inclinations were not present; the lesson got hammered home with BJ.) Fortunately for my peace of mind on the "wait, you just did what with your brain?" that would have got loose following this statement, there is precedent. More than a decade ago, I met a young man at college. The term started just after Halloween. By Valentine's Day, I had thrown over my fiancé after realizing that I trusted this new dude (and one of my other new friends) more than I trusted my intended & that this should be fixed, fallen in love, had my heart broken, and had the worst of the heartbreak mended by continued and specific demonstrations of "perfect love and perfect trust".
Instrumental in that transformation of perfect stranger to imperfect but highly trusted friend were those long breakfasts -- Darkside came in early, preferring to spend two or more hours before class in the peace of the cafeteria, rather than spend nearly that long in traffic to arrive just in time -- where we unloaded our brains, sometimes haltingly and sometimes in a rush, words tumbling over each other. I was young and unpracticed at making friends to keep, and I think so was he. Many things did go wrong, but enough went right that thirteen years later, here I am, and he still holds the formal title of Best Friend.
I haven't had quite such leisurely chunks of quality and unavoidable time spent together with Purple, but at first some of the time sort of started grabbing itself, much to my initial startlement. As an actual adult (or something like it), I've also had time to tune the packets with which I send my information. Some of it has the cadence of well-rehearsed lines. It takes a little less time. I discovered that some of the things which used to require the quietest of private rooms and exquisite patience as I stuttered out things I didn't want to face head-on now took just a few minutes (albeit in a still quiet and confidential context) with only the faintest trace of stumbling. (You are remembered, fair lady. Always.) We have lunch, and we get back to work. We exchange little bits of ourselves throughout the day in passing. And in the late evening when the office is quiet except for the squeak of a printer and the intermittent and muffled beep of a computer who isn't entirely sure that what's being done to it is in the strictest sense acceptable, when the day's work is either done or all done but the waiting, there are more words, sometimes perhaps ones not fully suited to observation.
Kat also went from zero to braintwin pretty quickly, via quite a few long phonecalls, but I don't tend to wax as fully poetic about that.
The common factor in going quickly from zero to Trusted seems to involve getting a relatively low scoring of halt or caution flags, which could originate either internally or externally. A higher scoring hits the threshold where all the new stuff has to be carefully inspected lest it fuck stuff up, and that slows down the information transfer rate something serious. This results in a) more actual time elapsed per unit of information transferred, resulting in b) more actual time elapsed per trust benchmark. It also means c) there is a high halt/caution score, which goes right along with d) various forms of distrust or no-go piling up.
My trust is of course a multifactor thing, not a single axis. Imagine a very long page full of slider-bars. They're all set more or less in the neutral middle (with modifications for societal stuff: it's not like I'm expecting every dude I meet to react with an AK-47 to a gay-hug, but there's always the possibility that someone's a Sara*). There is a slider-bar for basically absolutely every interpersonal attribute you could imagine, from "I trust you to not kill me and dump my body in a ditch" to "given sufficient rehearsal time, we could sing a duet together and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't screw it up".
* Sorry, non-homophobic Saras (and people who love them).
Some sliders pull others. Some sliders are a compilation of others. Some have thresholds set by others. Some have no effect on others. Not trusting someone to not kill or otherwise hurt me has an amazing effect on my willingness to enter a large-scale project with, spend time in the company of, or leave my cat with, someone. However, unwillingness to lend someone my calculator because they may perhaps have a larger issue with carelessness with their friends' possessions doesn't necessarily have anything to do with their acting skill and their dramatic chemistry with me; I may be happy to play opposite them on any script perhaps even without examining it first. (Oh, Shawn.) Do I trust you to hold a tune without a bucket? No? No matter, I'm still willing to consider telling you my secrets, provided something else hasn't blocked that. (And maybe we could sing a duet just for fun, just us two, giving zero fucks about staying on-key.)
Came home in a state of general delight and pleasure with the world, wrote up Saturday's happenings. Conked out in bed at something approaching a reasonable hour. Slept until early afternoon, as one does.
A further note: those thin black drink-straws really don't work well as chopsticks for ice cubes. I was SO CLOSE, though.
Embarked on various bits of reading, both off internet and on. Did some minor tidying and/or dishes.
Eventually I realized that it was getting on in hours and my fitbit was telling me I was behind on steps for the day. (I try to aim for at least the goal, but no higher than double.) So I moved myself with my chat with
sithjawa on my phone to the bouncy-ball, and there spent a reasonably instructive hour allowing my abdominal muscles to stand in for legs. zarhooie was having various Adventures of Road. Snow was not meant to travel in a sideways direction, no, not even in Minnesnowda. I finished up reading Archer's Goon, which I found good.
I realized when his shoe hit the step and he looked at it.
The tooth marks on my copy look like either a staple-remover or a cat.
A friend observed that Purple went from zero to Trusted very fast (for me)! This is true. It was not a bad thing, it is a thing. Which has happened. I do seem to have a bit of a Type, and a large part of that Type is in mindshape. (Perhaps fortunately, my safeguards attempt to keep me from having as Type a person who I could not be friends with if romantical inclinations were not present; the lesson got hammered home with BJ.) Fortunately for my peace of mind on the "wait, you just did what with your brain?" that would have got loose following this statement, there is precedent. More than a decade ago, I met a young man at college. The term started just after Halloween. By Valentine's Day, I had thrown over my fiancé after realizing that I trusted this new dude (and one of my other new friends) more than I trusted my intended & that this should be fixed, fallen in love, had my heart broken, and had the worst of the heartbreak mended by continued and specific demonstrations of "perfect love and perfect trust".
Instrumental in that transformation of perfect stranger to imperfect but highly trusted friend were those long breakfasts -- Darkside came in early, preferring to spend two or more hours before class in the peace of the cafeteria, rather than spend nearly that long in traffic to arrive just in time -- where we unloaded our brains, sometimes haltingly and sometimes in a rush, words tumbling over each other. I was young and unpracticed at making friends to keep, and I think so was he. Many things did go wrong, but enough went right that thirteen years later, here I am, and he still holds the formal title of Best Friend.
I haven't had quite such leisurely chunks of quality and unavoidable time spent together with Purple, but at first some of the time sort of started grabbing itself, much to my initial startlement. As an actual adult (or something like it), I've also had time to tune the packets with which I send my information. Some of it has the cadence of well-rehearsed lines. It takes a little less time. I discovered that some of the things which used to require the quietest of private rooms and exquisite patience as I stuttered out things I didn't want to face head-on now took just a few minutes (albeit in a still quiet and confidential context) with only the faintest trace of stumbling. (You are remembered, fair lady. Always.) We have lunch, and we get back to work. We exchange little bits of ourselves throughout the day in passing. And in the late evening when the office is quiet except for the squeak of a printer and the intermittent and muffled beep of a computer who isn't entirely sure that what's being done to it is in the strictest sense acceptable, when the day's work is either done or all done but the waiting, there are more words, sometimes perhaps ones not fully suited to observation.
Kat also went from zero to braintwin pretty quickly, via quite a few long phonecalls, but I don't tend to wax as fully poetic about that.
The common factor in going quickly from zero to Trusted seems to involve getting a relatively low scoring of halt or caution flags, which could originate either internally or externally. A higher scoring hits the threshold where all the new stuff has to be carefully inspected lest it fuck stuff up, and that slows down the information transfer rate something serious. This results in a) more actual time elapsed per unit of information transferred, resulting in b) more actual time elapsed per trust benchmark. It also means c) there is a high halt/caution score, which goes right along with d) various forms of distrust or no-go piling up.
My trust is of course a multifactor thing, not a single axis. Imagine a very long page full of slider-bars. They're all set more or less in the neutral middle (with modifications for societal stuff: it's not like I'm expecting every dude I meet to react with an AK-47 to a gay-hug, but there's always the possibility that someone's a Sara*). There is a slider-bar for basically absolutely every interpersonal attribute you could imagine, from "I trust you to not kill me and dump my body in a ditch" to "given sufficient rehearsal time, we could sing a duet together and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't screw it up".
* Sorry, non-homophobic Saras (and people who love them).
Some sliders pull others. Some sliders are a compilation of others. Some have thresholds set by others. Some have no effect on others. Not trusting someone to not kill or otherwise hurt me has an amazing effect on my willingness to enter a large-scale project with, spend time in the company of, or leave my cat with, someone. However, unwillingness to lend someone my calculator because they may perhaps have a larger issue with carelessness with their friends' possessions doesn't necessarily have anything to do with their acting skill and their dramatic chemistry with me; I may be happy to play opposite them on any script perhaps even without examining it first. (Oh, Shawn.) Do I trust you to hold a tune without a bucket? No? No matter, I'm still willing to consider telling you my secrets, provided something else hasn't blocked that. (And maybe we could sing a duet just for fun, just us two, giving zero fucks about staying on-key.)