...BUT...I've decided that mopping really isn't as bad as sweeping. I hate sweeping maybe 4.6 times more than I hate mopping, simply because mopping goes by more quickly and is less tedious.
I still don't like it. I just like sweeping even less.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Levels
Women are more intuitive than men, and much, much more complicated. Men generally do not realize this. Men usually think whatever goes for them goes for the rest of the world. Women, of course, know better.
This is an obvious fact of life that everyone should know. You may quote Katherine on it.
All right. Now, as everyone reading this surely knows, I have a boyfriend, and his name is Connor. Everybody likes us together, including us, but we average one squabble per ten minutes. Not out-and-out fights, but bickering.
No comment necessary.
Anyway, we were talking on IM the other night, and here’s what we were saying.
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:28:29 PM): i've seen a fair amt of cranky connor, too
TwoCents08 (11:28:41 PM): that's like setting one
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:28:47 PM): haha
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:28:53 PM): what's setting 2?
TwoCents08 (11:29:40 PM): less cranky
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:29:49 PM): haha
TwoCents08 (11:29:52 PM): rather smartmouthed
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:30:01 PM): setting 3?
TwoCents08 (11:30:07 PM): pleasant
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:30:25 PM): and 4?
TwoCents08 (11:31:17 PM): smug
TwoCents08 (11:31:22 PM): i like setting 4
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:31:28 PM): i realize that
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:31:35 PM): setting 5?
TwoCents08 (11:32:43 PM): umm outwardly happy
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:32:55 PM): are those all of connor's settings?
TwoCents08 (11:33:09 PM): well no
TwoCents08 (11:33:35 PM): b/c we're omitting a few
TwoCents08 (11:33:48 PM): like setting 6-10
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:34:03 PM): ah
TwoCents08 (11:34:21 PM): setting 6 is like silly happy
TwoCents08 (11:34:43 PM): kinda like my schmoozing party joking attitude
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:34:54 PM): ahaha
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:34:57 PM): i see
TwoCents08 (11:36:00 PM): 7
TwoCents08 (11:36:19 PM): 7 is like mildly ticked off
TwoCents08 (11:36:41 PM): 8 is upset
TwoCents08 (11:36:56 PM): 9 is jubilant, valley-girl style mirth
TwoCents08 (11:37:06 PM): and 10 is when i get mad
TwoCents08 (11:37:14 PM): like shoot fire and such
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:37:19 PM): i see
So anyway, then we bickered over whether or not women have more levels than men. He sticks by the 10 rule. I told him I probably had a minimum of 25. He rolled his eyes at me. (You know, *rolling eyes*) So the next day at work, during a rare lull, I—I who always carry a notebook—tore out a notebook page and wrote down my levels. Here they are.
1. absolutely ecstastic
2. jubilant
3. triumphant
4. really happy
5. happy for you
6. moderately happy
7. pleased
8. smug
9. mildly happy
10. content/placid
11. neutral/reserving judgement
12. uncertain
13. confused
14. irritated with myself
15. frustrated
16. lazy
17. tired
18. exhausted
19. annoying
20. giggly
21. annoyed
22. more annoyed
23. truly irritated
24. mildly irate
25. infuriated--two modes: loud and quiet
26. sarcastic
27. sharp
28. clever
29. idiotic
30. defensive--several modes
31. bold--with sublevels flirtatious and confrontational
32. automatic mode
33. apologetic
34. hungry
35. wistful
36. nostalgic--several modes
37. mildly sad
38. deeply sad
39. devastated
40. heartbroken
41. hopeful
42. resigned
43. trying
And, of course, I have settings (loud, quiet, slightly uplifted, slightly downtrodden). Several levels can be combined at one time. They change with what happens moment-by-moment, what happens daily, what happens weekly, what happens monthly, etc. Intensity and level combinations vary according to the person I'm with and the class/location.
Psh to 10 levels.
twinkletoeskgs7: Take that, dear. ;p
This is an obvious fact of life that everyone should know. You may quote Katherine on it.
All right. Now, as everyone reading this surely knows, I have a boyfriend, and his name is Connor. Everybody likes us together, including us, but we average one squabble per ten minutes. Not out-and-out fights, but bickering.
No comment necessary.
Anyway, we were talking on IM the other night, and here’s what we were saying.
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:28:29 PM): i've seen a fair amt of cranky connor, too
TwoCents08 (11:28:41 PM): that's like setting one
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:28:47 PM): haha
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:28:53 PM): what's setting 2?
TwoCents08 (11:29:40 PM): less cranky
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:29:49 PM): haha
TwoCents08 (11:29:52 PM): rather smartmouthed
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:30:01 PM): setting 3?
TwoCents08 (11:30:07 PM): pleasant
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:30:25 PM): and 4?
TwoCents08 (11:31:17 PM): smug
TwoCents08 (11:31:22 PM): i like setting 4
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:31:28 PM): i realize that
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:31:35 PM): setting 5?
TwoCents08 (11:32:43 PM): umm outwardly happy
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:32:55 PM): are those all of connor's settings?
TwoCents08 (11:33:09 PM): well no
TwoCents08 (11:33:35 PM): b/c we're omitting a few
TwoCents08 (11:33:48 PM): like setting 6-10
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:34:03 PM): ah
TwoCents08 (11:34:21 PM): setting 6 is like silly happy
TwoCents08 (11:34:43 PM): kinda like my schmoozing party joking attitude
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:34:54 PM): ahaha
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:34:57 PM): i see
TwoCents08 (11:36:00 PM): 7
TwoCents08 (11:36:19 PM): 7 is like mildly ticked off
TwoCents08 (11:36:41 PM): 8 is upset
TwoCents08 (11:36:56 PM): 9 is jubilant, valley-girl style mirth
TwoCents08 (11:37:06 PM): and 10 is when i get mad
TwoCents08 (11:37:14 PM): like shoot fire and such
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:37:19 PM): i see
So anyway, then we bickered over whether or not women have more levels than men. He sticks by the 10 rule. I told him I probably had a minimum of 25. He rolled his eyes at me. (You know, *rolling eyes*) So the next day at work, during a rare lull, I—I who always carry a notebook—tore out a notebook page and wrote down my levels. Here they are.
1. absolutely ecstastic
2. jubilant
3. triumphant
4. really happy
5. happy for you
6. moderately happy
7. pleased
8. smug
9. mildly happy
10. content/placid
11. neutral/reserving judgement
12. uncertain
13. confused
14. irritated with myself
15. frustrated
16. lazy
17. tired
18. exhausted
19. annoying
20. giggly
21. annoyed
22. more annoyed
23. truly irritated
24. mildly irate
25. infuriated--two modes: loud and quiet
26. sarcastic
27. sharp
28. clever
29. idiotic
30. defensive--several modes
31. bold--with sublevels flirtatious and confrontational
32. automatic mode
33. apologetic
34. hungry
35. wistful
36. nostalgic--several modes
37. mildly sad
38. deeply sad
39. devastated
40. heartbroken
41. hopeful
42. resigned
43. trying
And, of course, I have settings (loud, quiet, slightly uplifted, slightly downtrodden). Several levels can be combined at one time. They change with what happens moment-by-moment, what happens daily, what happens weekly, what happens monthly, etc. Intensity and level combinations vary according to the person I'm with and the class/location.
Psh to 10 levels.
twinkletoeskgs7: Take that, dear. ;p
The travel-happy homebody strikes again
I think that travel comes from some deep urge to see the world, like the urge that brings up a worm in an Irish bog to see the moon when it is full. ~Lord Dunsany
I had a dream last night that I went to Rome. There was also something about Vatican City, lots of old cathedrals and tan, marble architecture and candlelit services. I imagine that’s mostly really there. Of course, in my dream, Morgan Freeman and my boyfriend’s 12-year-old brother were also featured, and they are decidedly not there. Still. I’ve decided—and I’m not making this decision based on a dream, I promise—that I want to go to Rome. I’ve been to London, Paris, and Venice, and I’d go back to any of the three in the space of a heartbeat. For new destinations, though, I really want to go to Rome. Maybe in college. We’ll have to see.
I want to go to Ireland, too.
And I wouldn’t mind seeing the rest of the US.
Not bad for a homebody.
I had a dream last night that I went to Rome. There was also something about Vatican City, lots of old cathedrals and tan, marble architecture and candlelit services. I imagine that’s mostly really there. Of course, in my dream, Morgan Freeman and my boyfriend’s 12-year-old brother were also featured, and they are decidedly not there. Still. I’ve decided—and I’m not making this decision based on a dream, I promise—that I want to go to Rome. I’ve been to London, Paris, and Venice, and I’d go back to any of the three in the space of a heartbeat. For new destinations, though, I really want to go to Rome. Maybe in college. We’ll have to see.
I want to go to Ireland, too.
And I wouldn’t mind seeing the rest of the US.
Not bad for a homebody.
Idle prattle is a matter of opinion
“Yes, on land it’s much preferred for ladies not to say a word, and, after all, dear, what is idle prattle for? They’re not all that impressed with conversation. True gentlemen avoid it when they can. Yet they dote and swoon and fawn on a lady who’s withdrawn, and it’s she who holds her tongue who gets her man!”
Ursula
The Little Mermaid (1989)
Most people don’t think this anymore. Notice it’s the villain saying it here. Regardless. I thought I’d just mention how much I absolutely, positively, and holistically loathe being told to be quiet. If you tell me to shut up, I’m probably going to hurt you. (Unless I deserve it, and sometimes I do.) This either means that I have too much adoration for my own vocality (my word), or that I really, really hate being stifled. Maybe both. What do you think?
Ursula
The Little Mermaid (1989)
Most people don’t think this anymore. Notice it’s the villain saying it here. Regardless. I thought I’d just mention how much I absolutely, positively, and holistically loathe being told to be quiet. If you tell me to shut up, I’m probably going to hurt you. (Unless I deserve it, and sometimes I do.) This either means that I have too much adoration for my own vocality (my word), or that I really, really hate being stifled. Maybe both. What do you think?
Oh, the irony
The childhood shows the man
As morning shows the day.
~John Milton, Paradise Regained
I’m watching The Little Mermaid right now. It’s my all-time second-favorite Disney movie, for around a million reasons. (My favorite is Beauty and the Beast, and I would be watching that, but I couldn’t find the VHS when I went to look for it, so I settled. It’s not really a pity. I also love Aladdin and The Lion King—these four movies clustered together seem, in my mind, like old friends, but aside from that, they comprise a significant portion of my childhood TV face time. If you add Winnie-the-Pooh in, that’s probably about 90%. We don’t believe in much TV at my house.) While I’m watching this glorious gem of a G-rated film, I’m blogging, downloading some new music on iTunes, and reading a TIME review about the movie Wanted, which I went with three girlfriends last night to see. (It’s rated R, and none of us actually liked it, but going was still fun. We jumped and whispered and covered our faces and bit our fists, and then made fun of it. “What is this movie supposed to be telling me?” Kayla asked. “I mean, seriously. What do they want from us?” I have no idea. It’s such a boy movie.)
This morning, I put on my Cinderella sheets. I’ve had them since I was maybe three, which makes them about fifteen years old—still, they’re soft and cool and they have lace on the edge and my favorite pillowcase ever, and their soft purple coordinates perfectly with my lavender walls and the Cecily Mary Barker flower fairy wallpaper near my ceiling. While I accomplished this domestic task, I chatted via cell phone with my boyfriend.
My mother gave me my final graduation present yesterday. It’s a Dorothy Barbie I openly coveted in Wal-Mart last year. Right now she’s (in her box still) reclining in my Samantha doll’s bed; I haven’t yet figured what I’ll do with her, but she thrills me. I thought about putting her on my desk, but I hate to cover all the pictures I’ve got propped up and framed—pictures from Europe, pictures from Prom, pictures from dance competition/workshop, pictures from graduation…
Sensing irony yet?
So, the question is: do I need to grow up all the way, or am I simply a well-balanced young lady, with equal measures of childhood and and adulthood? Don’t bother to ask me. I think growing up all the way would be boring, and I’m not going to do it. :]
As morning shows the day.
~John Milton, Paradise Regained
I’m watching The Little Mermaid right now. It’s my all-time second-favorite Disney movie, for around a million reasons. (My favorite is Beauty and the Beast, and I would be watching that, but I couldn’t find the VHS when I went to look for it, so I settled. It’s not really a pity. I also love Aladdin and The Lion King—these four movies clustered together seem, in my mind, like old friends, but aside from that, they comprise a significant portion of my childhood TV face time. If you add Winnie-the-Pooh in, that’s probably about 90%. We don’t believe in much TV at my house.) While I’m watching this glorious gem of a G-rated film, I’m blogging, downloading some new music on iTunes, and reading a TIME review about the movie Wanted, which I went with three girlfriends last night to see. (It’s rated R, and none of us actually liked it, but going was still fun. We jumped and whispered and covered our faces and bit our fists, and then made fun of it. “What is this movie supposed to be telling me?” Kayla asked. “I mean, seriously. What do they want from us?” I have no idea. It’s such a boy movie.)
This morning, I put on my Cinderella sheets. I’ve had them since I was maybe three, which makes them about fifteen years old—still, they’re soft and cool and they have lace on the edge and my favorite pillowcase ever, and their soft purple coordinates perfectly with my lavender walls and the Cecily Mary Barker flower fairy wallpaper near my ceiling. While I accomplished this domestic task, I chatted via cell phone with my boyfriend.
My mother gave me my final graduation present yesterday. It’s a Dorothy Barbie I openly coveted in Wal-Mart last year. Right now she’s (in her box still) reclining in my Samantha doll’s bed; I haven’t yet figured what I’ll do with her, but she thrills me. I thought about putting her on my desk, but I hate to cover all the pictures I’ve got propped up and framed—pictures from Europe, pictures from Prom, pictures from dance competition/workshop, pictures from graduation…
Sensing irony yet?
So, the question is: do I need to grow up all the way, or am I simply a well-balanced young lady, with equal measures of childhood and and adulthood? Don’t bother to ask me. I think growing up all the way would be boring, and I’m not going to do it. :]
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