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Dec. 17th, 2001 11:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quislibetThe Weekend. By me.
Friday: J. met me at the train station after work with the car and a gym bag, our new system that seems to be working out well, rather than my walking home, settling in for a random number of minutes generally smaller than 30, changing, then walking halfway back towards the station to hit the Y. The upshot is that the Tyranny of the Stairmaster is but a memory for the rest of the evening at about the time that we'd be getting to the Y otherwise. Had dinner. Went to see "From Hell" at the local second-run theater. We were given free posters and pins. These will be important later. Movie okay, but I can see why some people hate it. We tried to think of a Johnny Depp movie with a happy ending other than "Sleepy Hollow" or "Chocolat." Failed. "From Hell" and "Sleepy Hollow" would make an interesting double feature: science-driven inspector Depp in a superstitious world vs. mysticism-driven inspector Depp in a supposedly rational world. Or whatever.
Saturday: shopping in Bostonian suburbs, viz. Brookline and Cambridge. Indian food. Costume Christmas party. A pleasant time had there. Sadly, our gifts for the Yankee swap were decorated with free "From Hell" paraphernalia (as we had no real use for same), and apparently some people found these off-putting. They were the last two gifts chosen to be unwrapped. My gift changed hands from one person who didn't want it to another. Alas. Still, J. and I won candy for our costumes. (Not that there was much competition; maybe fifty people were there when we showed up, and we were perhaps costume-wearers 7 and 8.) I ended up with a Sauruman action figure. Cool as it is, I think my younger step-brother is getting it for Christmas, since I don't know what else to get him.
It is perhaps the first party with that crowd where I didn't fall into much game-geek conversation. Part of it was that there were lots of people I hadn't seen for a long time who no longer play, so talking to them about the real world was something of a priority. I appreciated the fact that there seemed to be a separate "game-talk" room upstairs in the bedroom, similar to the way at some parties there's the "naked room" or the "make-out room" or the "illegal substances room"; if you're not comfortable with that version of entertainment, you can stay downstairs with the booze and pretend it's not happening.
That's two Saturdays now spent shopping in town, dinner out, party. Not a bad system. A bit expensive in terms of time and money, of course.
Yesterday: wrote most of my "Barbarian chicks at war" paper. I got to use the phrase "barbarian cheerleaders," so I feel fulfilled. Mmm. Fur miniskirt. I'll give Advisor Man my draft so far, and finish it tonight while J. is away mixing with secret sewing circle ladies. Or at least that is my plan.
Today: some of the people on my "Friends" page have written Sad Things. One entry even moved me to tears. I can never think of anything comforting to say to people who are in pain, beyond the mindless optimism of "well, I have been in pain, and gotten better." I can say, though, "my heart goes out to you."
I hold up as the paradigm for this sort of thing the night my 18-year-old self, then in my "I want to go into musical theater" days, having worked the fortunately primitive lighting for a dance recital in Columbus (all I had to do was flip a switch on and off, which I could handle), rode back down to the Home Town courtesy of one of the dancers. She was in her late 30s, and had been a professional dancer at one point, but now just helped out with the local ballet school. Idly and cluelessly, perhaps, I asked at what seemed to be the logical time why she had given up professional dancing. Maybe it was the logical time, and she had led the conversation to that point. Maybe I was just socially inept. Maybe it was a combination.
In any case, she took a deep breath, let it out, and was silent for a long time. Even I was aware that this was a Touchy Subject, but before I could find something else to talk about, she told me the story: she had been viciously raped by someone connected with The Scene, had dropped out of dancing, moved halfway across the country, and found God. Her version was more detailed than that, of course.
What could I say? I'm sure what I *did* say, at various points, amounted to "that's awful," or, perhaps, at other points in the "recovery" part of the story, something not much more eloquent than "good for you."
Not "You go, girl," however, as it was only 1988.
Unfortunately, I haven't really developed a better style here. I still tend to say, "I'm sorry to hear that," and leave it. It may well be more helpful than the alternative, as in some cases, when I throw myself into the misery, unable to solve people's problems for them but apparently willing to suffer pointlessly along, helping them dwell on the issue. I'm good at co-brooding.
But I should probably stick to the "I'm sorry to hear that" side of things. Sto kalo: "May it all go to the good," as the Greeks say. It's a good mindlessly optimistic phrase. I like it.
Friday: J. met me at the train station after work with the car and a gym bag, our new system that seems to be working out well, rather than my walking home, settling in for a random number of minutes generally smaller than 30, changing, then walking halfway back towards the station to hit the Y. The upshot is that the Tyranny of the Stairmaster is but a memory for the rest of the evening at about the time that we'd be getting to the Y otherwise. Had dinner. Went to see "From Hell" at the local second-run theater. We were given free posters and pins. These will be important later. Movie okay, but I can see why some people hate it. We tried to think of a Johnny Depp movie with a happy ending other than "Sleepy Hollow" or "Chocolat." Failed. "From Hell" and "Sleepy Hollow" would make an interesting double feature: science-driven inspector Depp in a superstitious world vs. mysticism-driven inspector Depp in a supposedly rational world. Or whatever.
Saturday: shopping in Bostonian suburbs, viz. Brookline and Cambridge. Indian food. Costume Christmas party. A pleasant time had there. Sadly, our gifts for the Yankee swap were decorated with free "From Hell" paraphernalia (as we had no real use for same), and apparently some people found these off-putting. They were the last two gifts chosen to be unwrapped. My gift changed hands from one person who didn't want it to another. Alas. Still, J. and I won candy for our costumes. (Not that there was much competition; maybe fifty people were there when we showed up, and we were perhaps costume-wearers 7 and 8.) I ended up with a Sauruman action figure. Cool as it is, I think my younger step-brother is getting it for Christmas, since I don't know what else to get him.
It is perhaps the first party with that crowd where I didn't fall into much game-geek conversation. Part of it was that there were lots of people I hadn't seen for a long time who no longer play, so talking to them about the real world was something of a priority. I appreciated the fact that there seemed to be a separate "game-talk" room upstairs in the bedroom, similar to the way at some parties there's the "naked room" or the "make-out room" or the "illegal substances room"; if you're not comfortable with that version of entertainment, you can stay downstairs with the booze and pretend it's not happening.
That's two Saturdays now spent shopping in town, dinner out, party. Not a bad system. A bit expensive in terms of time and money, of course.
Yesterday: wrote most of my "Barbarian chicks at war" paper. I got to use the phrase "barbarian cheerleaders," so I feel fulfilled. Mmm. Fur miniskirt. I'll give Advisor Man my draft so far, and finish it tonight while J. is away mixing with secret sewing circle ladies. Or at least that is my plan.
Today: some of the people on my "Friends" page have written Sad Things. One entry even moved me to tears. I can never think of anything comforting to say to people who are in pain, beyond the mindless optimism of "well, I have been in pain, and gotten better." I can say, though, "my heart goes out to you."
I hold up as the paradigm for this sort of thing the night my 18-year-old self, then in my "I want to go into musical theater" days, having worked the fortunately primitive lighting for a dance recital in Columbus (all I had to do was flip a switch on and off, which I could handle), rode back down to the Home Town courtesy of one of the dancers. She was in her late 30s, and had been a professional dancer at one point, but now just helped out with the local ballet school. Idly and cluelessly, perhaps, I asked at what seemed to be the logical time why she had given up professional dancing. Maybe it was the logical time, and she had led the conversation to that point. Maybe I was just socially inept. Maybe it was a combination.
In any case, she took a deep breath, let it out, and was silent for a long time. Even I was aware that this was a Touchy Subject, but before I could find something else to talk about, she told me the story: she had been viciously raped by someone connected with The Scene, had dropped out of dancing, moved halfway across the country, and found God. Her version was more detailed than that, of course.
What could I say? I'm sure what I *did* say, at various points, amounted to "that's awful," or, perhaps, at other points in the "recovery" part of the story, something not much more eloquent than "good for you."
Not "You go, girl," however, as it was only 1988.
Unfortunately, I haven't really developed a better style here. I still tend to say, "I'm sorry to hear that," and leave it. It may well be more helpful than the alternative, as in some cases, when I throw myself into the misery, unable to solve people's problems for them but apparently willing to suffer pointlessly along, helping them dwell on the issue. I'm good at co-brooding.
But I should probably stick to the "I'm sorry to hear that" side of things. Sto kalo: "May it all go to the good," as the Greeks say. It's a good mindlessly optimistic phrase. I like it.
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no subject
Date: 2001-12-18 07:27 am (UTC)If it makes you feel *too* much better, though, I'd have to clear it with Jen first.