oo1.Tattoo.
I have huge boobs. No really. What that meant was that we decided that we'd make the image a bit larger than we'd previously expected to, in order to make sure that it wasn't overwhelmed by my breast. That meant that I ended up spending significantly more time on that table getting jabbed with a needle than I'd thought. Three hours is a long time. I enjoyed the outline part. That was fun. But the shading was hard. And yeah. Also, no one told me that you need sugar to deal with the pain. So I poisoned myself with my own adrenaline instead, and ended up spending all night puking my guts out. Fun. No wait, the other one. Not fun. But I love her dearly. I think she's beautiful. Next time I think I'll do it in stages.
(for pictures, go to my photobucket page.)
oo2. Enneagram.
Here's something I'll admit: I perscribe to a philosophy of personality typing. It's based on motivations, rather than something stupid like birthdates and it's served me well. When I was five years old, I met a girl and we became friends. We remained thus, regardless of the fact that she and I both made the other cry like every day we hung out for years. When we were about 13, we ran across this book on the enneagram in her house and realized that we were different. We finally realized that we each just wanted different things from life; it wasn't that the other was simply failing to be a human being, like we'd both assumed before. We remain friends to this day, and I don't think we've made eachother cry in like 8 years.
So the crux of it is this (although it is in reality much more complicated): There are nine different motivations, and thus nine different types of people.
1s are motivated by the need to be and do right. They're perfectionists.
2s are motivated by the desire to be appreciated and loved. They are Helpers.
3s are motivated by the desire to be successful and to be seen as successful.
4s are motivated by the desire to understand themselves and to be understood. They are also motivated by the need to be an individual. They're called Romantics and that's me.
5s are motivated by the desire to understand the world around them. They're into facts and books and have a hard time with people.
6s are motivated by loyalty.
7s by the desire to have fun.
8s are motivated by justice and the need to be right.
9s are motivated by the desire to keep the world and themselves in a state of peacefulness.
The complications come from the fact that these types are organized into a circle and then based on how you're feeling (either really stressed, or really comfortable) you may take on negative or positive qualities (respectively) of two other types. That's called traveling. And then there are wings, where you're influenced by one of the types next to you.
(That's background.)
oo3. Relationships.
My heart has been broken a number of times in the last few months by the same individual. Said person is now trying to make it up to me, in the hopes that I'll forgive him and that we can have a life together. Needless to say, this is difficult. It's hard to trust. It's hard to know what to take seriously, especially when he says that some of the conversations we've had in the last few months should ideally be stricken from the record. And, strangely, I'm still enjoying this whole single thing. And I don't know what that is. I don't know if I'm just enjoying the lack of toxicity to what our relationship had become, and would therefore equally enjoy a relationship that was not toxic, or if I am really enjoying the freedom, or more than that, if I'm actually enjoying freedom FROM. Anyway. That's hard.
I did finally, after four years, figure out what number he is. And that could actually make things about a bazillion times easier for both of us, because there's something really nice about knowing really concretely what it is that you need to work on for yourself (what your negative qualities, or tendencies are) and also, it makes it so much easier to live with someone if you know what they want from you and what they need in general. I know that not all people want what I do, but it's really hard to guess, you know? So understanding what someone needs when they're stressed makes both parties much happier. So there.
oo4. My Dad.
My dad's Jewish. What that basically means is that I have had a hard time feeling like I can live up to his un-spoken expectations. Really what it is is that there is genetic guilt that comes from Jewish parents (and Catholic parents, too) that has nothing at all to do with any form of reality at all, but which is entirely unavoidable and overwhelming. Thus, I have only recently gotten close to my dad, and it's been wonderful. When the heart-breaker from above (that's a horribly thing to call someone, but hopefully he will not be offended by my termanology, as he will understand that it is only for sake of reference that he is thus referred) and I first broke up a few months ago, I called my dad in tears (something I'd never done) and he was really really understanding and gave me some great advice. He has continued to do so for the last few months and it's been enjoyable and comforting.
Today he called because he'd said that he was going to go to the doctor. He's got hip problems, has for a while. Had a huge fuck-off operation a while ago and now apparently needs another. But his heart's been acting up so he wanted to get it checked out before the surgery to make sure he'd be ok. Well, turns out he needs bypass surgery for a coronary artery. Awesome. They say he's not in frantic need, or anything, and that's good to hear, but fuck, right? Plus it means that he's going to be out for a while for one surgery and then have to go in again. I'm worried about him. He's getting old. I mean, really, 60's not that old, but he doesn't take great care of himself. So that was a couple of hours ago and I haven't really had time to process yet. I can't tell if I'm really freaked out and ready to cry or what.
oo5. School.
On the bright side of things, I had my Thesis Orals on Tuesday and they went great. I passed, which is unsurprising, but wonderful, none the less. I now have to do a couple little revisiony things to it and then I can turn it in to the library.
Additionally, I have a huge history paper due on Monday and I'm so unmotivated to do it. I mean, come on. I just spent 9 months writing a thesis and it's fucking good. How am I supposed to put energy into a final paper after that? Oh well. Hopefully I can be somewhat satisfied with the outcome of this thing, also. I really admire the prof and would hate to disappoint him.
So that's my life... And it's only been a week. And now I have to decide what to do with the next part, because graduation is in a fucking week. Shit.
I have huge boobs. No really. What that meant was that we decided that we'd make the image a bit larger than we'd previously expected to, in order to make sure that it wasn't overwhelmed by my breast. That meant that I ended up spending significantly more time on that table getting jabbed with a needle than I'd thought. Three hours is a long time. I enjoyed the outline part. That was fun. But the shading was hard. And yeah. Also, no one told me that you need sugar to deal with the pain. So I poisoned myself with my own adrenaline instead, and ended up spending all night puking my guts out. Fun. No wait, the other one. Not fun. But I love her dearly. I think she's beautiful. Next time I think I'll do it in stages.
(for pictures, go to my photobucket page.)
oo2. Enneagram.
Here's something I'll admit: I perscribe to a philosophy of personality typing. It's based on motivations, rather than something stupid like birthdates and it's served me well. When I was five years old, I met a girl and we became friends. We remained thus, regardless of the fact that she and I both made the other cry like every day we hung out for years. When we were about 13, we ran across this book on the enneagram in her house and realized that we were different. We finally realized that we each just wanted different things from life; it wasn't that the other was simply failing to be a human being, like we'd both assumed before. We remain friends to this day, and I don't think we've made eachother cry in like 8 years.
So the crux of it is this (although it is in reality much more complicated): There are nine different motivations, and thus nine different types of people.
1s are motivated by the need to be and do right. They're perfectionists.
2s are motivated by the desire to be appreciated and loved. They are Helpers.
3s are motivated by the desire to be successful and to be seen as successful.
4s are motivated by the desire to understand themselves and to be understood. They are also motivated by the need to be an individual. They're called Romantics and that's me.
5s are motivated by the desire to understand the world around them. They're into facts and books and have a hard time with people.
6s are motivated by loyalty.
7s by the desire to have fun.
8s are motivated by justice and the need to be right.
9s are motivated by the desire to keep the world and themselves in a state of peacefulness.
The complications come from the fact that these types are organized into a circle and then based on how you're feeling (either really stressed, or really comfortable) you may take on negative or positive qualities (respectively) of two other types. That's called traveling. And then there are wings, where you're influenced by one of the types next to you.
(That's background.)
oo3. Relationships.
My heart has been broken a number of times in the last few months by the same individual. Said person is now trying to make it up to me, in the hopes that I'll forgive him and that we can have a life together. Needless to say, this is difficult. It's hard to trust. It's hard to know what to take seriously, especially when he says that some of the conversations we've had in the last few months should ideally be stricken from the record. And, strangely, I'm still enjoying this whole single thing. And I don't know what that is. I don't know if I'm just enjoying the lack of toxicity to what our relationship had become, and would therefore equally enjoy a relationship that was not toxic, or if I am really enjoying the freedom, or more than that, if I'm actually enjoying freedom FROM. Anyway. That's hard.
I did finally, after four years, figure out what number he is. And that could actually make things about a bazillion times easier for both of us, because there's something really nice about knowing really concretely what it is that you need to work on for yourself (what your negative qualities, or tendencies are) and also, it makes it so much easier to live with someone if you know what they want from you and what they need in general. I know that not all people want what I do, but it's really hard to guess, you know? So understanding what someone needs when they're stressed makes both parties much happier. So there.
oo4. My Dad.
My dad's Jewish. What that basically means is that I have had a hard time feeling like I can live up to his un-spoken expectations. Really what it is is that there is genetic guilt that comes from Jewish parents (and Catholic parents, too) that has nothing at all to do with any form of reality at all, but which is entirely unavoidable and overwhelming. Thus, I have only recently gotten close to my dad, and it's been wonderful. When the heart-breaker from above (that's a horribly thing to call someone, but hopefully he will not be offended by my termanology, as he will understand that it is only for sake of reference that he is thus referred) and I first broke up a few months ago, I called my dad in tears (something I'd never done) and he was really really understanding and gave me some great advice. He has continued to do so for the last few months and it's been enjoyable and comforting.
Today he called because he'd said that he was going to go to the doctor. He's got hip problems, has for a while. Had a huge fuck-off operation a while ago and now apparently needs another. But his heart's been acting up so he wanted to get it checked out before the surgery to make sure he'd be ok. Well, turns out he needs bypass surgery for a coronary artery. Awesome. They say he's not in frantic need, or anything, and that's good to hear, but fuck, right? Plus it means that he's going to be out for a while for one surgery and then have to go in again. I'm worried about him. He's getting old. I mean, really, 60's not that old, but he doesn't take great care of himself. So that was a couple of hours ago and I haven't really had time to process yet. I can't tell if I'm really freaked out and ready to cry or what.
oo5. School.
On the bright side of things, I had my Thesis Orals on Tuesday and they went great. I passed, which is unsurprising, but wonderful, none the less. I now have to do a couple little revisiony things to it and then I can turn it in to the library.
Additionally, I have a huge history paper due on Monday and I'm so unmotivated to do it. I mean, come on. I just spent 9 months writing a thesis and it's fucking good. How am I supposed to put energy into a final paper after that? Oh well. Hopefully I can be somewhat satisfied with the outcome of this thing, also. I really admire the prof and would hate to disappoint him.
So that's my life... And it's only been a week. And now I have to decide what to do with the next part, because graduation is in a fucking week. Shit.