Different colored chicken eggs

Ordinary-ness and happiness

I’m going through and rescuing some old drafts that got lost in the draft box, so hopefully for the next couple weeks I’ll be posting more frequently. Some of the details might be a bit out of date and sometimes the topics are a little bit silly.


Quiet happy lives

That’s what I really want to live. I want to find a nice patch of land near my parents (or at least within 50 miles or so) and live a quiet happy life. I want to have kids and dogs and some chickens running around in the yard in a nice coyote-proof coop.

I like traveling, but never alone. I like having a home base and a solid, reliable life to return to. I like following the rules and always having a stable life. I think I would be perfectly happy living a quiet happy life. I will save up my money and put some away into retirement, which I have done starting with my babysitting money (I was a very financially responsible 14 year old who also had no real expenses). I want to spend the time building a solid foundation and structures of my life.
And it is silly for me to think that this isn’t absolutely, positively accepted. It’s presumably the basis that people say they are rebelling from or rejecting when they are rejecting things?
Idk
internet stuff

I guess I come to the same conclusion about this now. Internet stuff. Also, maybe something about what people expect of you in your 20s to be wild and crazy. But I have never been wild and crazy so there’s no real reason to think I’d start just because I’m in my 20s.

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Love of Commitment

I’m going through and rescuing some old drafts that got lost in the draft box, so hopefully for the next couple weeks I’ll be posting more frequently. Some of the details might be a bit out of date and some of the writing is not the best, though, although sometimes I will try and update the post.


If there is one thing I love, it is commitment.

I love never-changing constancy, partially because I hate change.

If you look at the schools I have chosen to go to, both times it was the first school to let me in. (There’s only two in there, so it’s not really enough to make a trend, but it’s consistent with a pattern in my life.)

 

I worried about my love of commitment a bit, since I am engaged to the first person I have ever dated. (Although after learned what actually constitutes a date, I think I may have gone on a date with someone else freshmen year of college, but it clearly wasn’t a very good one if I can’t decide.) I had to go through all the yes and no reasons related to it, to make sure it was actually because of him specifically, and not just because I love commitment.


Well, I’ve been married for over 2 years now and I still love commitment. 

Belonging in public spaces

I’m going through and rescuing some old drafts that got lost in the draft box, so hopefully for the next couple weeks I’ll be posting more frequently. Some of the details might be a bit out of date, though, although sometimes I will try and update the post.


I don’t belong in public spaces. They are full of people with their people-rules.

There are parks and lakes and walks nearby where I live. I can’t go outside in them alone. I can’t go in shared space alone.

So I got a dog.

When I have a dog, walking in public is my space too.


This one needs some updating.

Don’t worry, friends. I do go outside alone now. I don’t normally just chill in a park by myself reading or something (although I am fine doing that on the college campus where I work now–random aside: one big bonus of working on a college campus is that during summer I can just go literally nap on the quad maybe by the English department where no one who knows me will see me and (1) people will just think I’m at a meeting or something productive and (2) it’s totally completely normal.) Also I do–and always have done–normal and necessary living things like walking to get places. I just tended to (and still do) feel uncomfortable just sitting around not doing things around strangers.

Also, I have learned the best ways around this is to embrace the early mornings and late nights. Summer mornings at 5am are wonderful. It’s just me and the dog (or sometimes just me) and a sunrise. Fall mornings at 5am are also wonderful. They are just also significantly darker. But when I’m riding my bike back from lab at 5am, even though I’m riding back in the dark and I’ve just been at work for 8 hours when normal people are supposed to be sleeping, I’m just incredibly happy. Everything is dark and empty and QUIET. It’s just me and my bike and the occasional early morning delivery van. 5am is my favorite time in the city.

 

Coordination is a thing?

I’m going through and rescuing some old drafts that got lost in the draft box, so hopefully for the next couple weeks I’ll be posting more frequently. Some of the details might be a bit out of date, though. Also, some of these posts might be a little bit silly and maybe not my best writing.

 

I have horrible proprioception. I used to think it was depth perception, but maybe it is actually proprioception. But I have always been excellent at climbing things. I scared all the other moms when I would climb to the top of everything in Mommy&Me classes and just lie on the poles. I’ve always climbed trees (except now… it is a lot harder to find trees to climb in a city because mostly they are other people’s trees and you are supposed to ask for permission before climbing other people’s trees.). Of course, I didn’t run until after my younger sister learned how to run.

I have excellent fine motor skills. I can inject DNA into a single-celled embryo and dissect very tiny glands from larvae. This requires really intense hand-eye coordination because the forces and tissues are so small and delicate, you don’t get any sensory feedback so you have to learn to judge your movements by the microscope and without any touch response. When I rotated in a neuro lab, the first chick brain I dissected was perfectly dissected (even though they had set aside many brains for me to learn how to mangle the first few). I also do some other very complicated and rare embryo manipulations that would definitely be identifying because VERY FEW labs do it and I am pretty darn good at it, and I picked it up super quickly.

But I also fell down the stairs daily at high school, walked into the counter daily at home, walked into walls regularly. But maybe that was because I insisted on wearing shows two sizes too large in high school because I hated shoes that touched my toes. I haven’t fallen down stairs in years. I also tend to struggle A LOT with doors, specifically with opening them but also with walking through them instead of into them.

river in iceland with a bridge over it and snow on the ground

Lying on the cold hard ground

I’m going through and rescuing some old drafts that got lost in the draft box, so hopefully for the next couple weeks I’ll be posting more frequently. Some of the details might be a bit out of date, though. Also, some of these posts might be a little bit silly and maybe not my best writing.

I like to lie on the ground. Almost all of the day almost all of my life, I would just rather be curled up in a ball. And I mean this in a positive way–I just really love lying down. I’m enjoying myself a lot when I am lying on the ground. Also, I really hate standing around (often talking) when you could be sitting–or even better just lying on the ground. I know eye contact is more important to a lot of people, so I guess that isn’t why people don’t have conversations lying on the ground all the time.

Maybe not everywhere I am, but a lot of places. Even if it is somewhere I am enjoying myself, I know that it would be more enjoyable if I could be lying on the ground. Except, there are reasons not to lie on the ground:

  1. A lot of time the ground is dirty or unsafe. Such as crossing the street.
  2. Sometimes I would get in the way of people
  3. It is not something you are supposed to do. For some reason, even sitting on the ground seems weird to some people.

So, I generally know I am not supposed to lie on the ground.

But when I get drunk, I care a lot less about this so I lie on the ground a lot.

And that is actually how I realized I always want to lie on the ground.

 

Criss-Cross Applesauce

I’m going through and rescuing some old drafts that got lost in the draft box, so hopefully for the next couple weeks I’ll be posting more frequently. Some of the details might be a bit out of date, though.

I don’t sit still.


At least not as a general rule.

As a general rule, when I sit in chairs, I swing my feet. I kick things
(accidentally) and make unfortunately loud noises in class. Sitting
formally in a quiet room is a struggle, because if I am sitting properly,
feet on the ground, maybe ankles crossed, I have to spend so much focus on
being quiet and not distracting.

Which I don’t mind, really, because the tapping of feet and the clanging of
hitting chairs and the resulting table bouncing is an awful thing. I hate
when other people do it. It is distracting. It is painful. I understand
that there are situations I need to sit quietly.

But if I can sit on my feet, or criss-cross, with legs folded and wedged
into place, then I can sit quietly for hours (assuming I am also doing
something else, like typing or listening or reading or learning). Because
then my legs are comfortably wedged into place. I don’t have to worry about
forgetting that they are there, because they can’t go anywhere. It
generally requires conscious effort for me to take my feet out of
criss-cross. It is something I seldom do while I am paying attention to
something else.

But of course, not everywhere you can sit like this. Most of my clothes are
criss-cross appropriate… it is something I try to keep in mind when I buy
skirts and dresses (I’ve never really seen a pair of pants or shorts that
threaten flashing by sitting criss-cross, or at least not anything that
would fit my other clothes requirements.) Sure, I definitely have a few
skirts and dresses where I have to sit on top of my feet instead of
criss-cross, but I also usually wear shorts under those, so as long as it
isn’t too formal, I can usually get away with sitting criss cross.

The thing that is the real problem, though is desks. Those desks where the
desk and the chair are attached. Those can be difficult to sit criss cross
in. Those I generally have to settle for just sitting on one leg.

The other problem of course, is that sitting criss cross isn’t the formal
and appropriate way to sit at nice events. That isn’t how to sit at formal
dinners or at interviews.

And I have manners very thoroughly well ingrained, with the rules at least.

(I think my mom taught us something along the lines of “I know it is less
comfortable to sit with your feet down but manners don’t make sense they
are just a thing that everyone sticks to and then the other person knows
you are putting in extra effort because you respect them instead of just
being extra comfortable and easy).

P.S. I should write about manners and social expectations sometime.

P.P.S. I’m writing this while sitting very successfully quiet in a library
box working on prelim stuff. I am not the annoying library person. Well—I
am typing furiously, which I actually do get annoyed by other people doing
but that is a relatively quiet thing which I probably just need to get some
headphones to avoid.


For instance, from this P.P.S. I can tell that I wrote this over 4 years ago, since I took my prelims near the beginning of grad school.

Take a deep breath

I remember when I really learned how to handle my emotions. As in, the point when I was able to figure out how not to burst into tears over a stubbed toe. Before, I was prone to bursting into tears at these (relatively) small things.While I would burst into tears at minor injuries, I knew that I shouldn’t be upset. I knew it was a small injury and not a big thing. I knew that it would stop hurting soon. I just couldn’t stop myself from crumpling and crying. But then at some point, it just clicked. I was able to take a deep breath and walk it off. And after a few seconds, the stubbed toe or the skinned knee didn’t hurt any more and I was fine.

Part of the reason I remember this so well is because it definitely didn’t really develop until I was in college.

I still don’t really know why or how this change happened. I just know that all of a sudden, I was able to take that deep breath and pause for a second with a stubbed toe. And really, once you can do that, it makes it hurt so much less.

But before that, every time that someone told me to calm down, it didn’t work. When people told me to take a deep breath, to walk things off, it did not make any sense. I literally could not comprehend what people were saying or how it made any sense. I just didn’t have the tools in my brain to take a breath and make things stop hurting.

Some things just take time. Some things just happen late. Some things will probably never happen.