Wandering -or- "Gort! Klaatu barada nikto!"
First, a quick recap of the weekend.
Saturday
Met with willworker and his friends sometime after 3:30 ish at the Tacoma Museum of Glass. They had already gone through the museum, so duaiwe and I met up with them at a nearby cafe, then wandered the giftshop for a while before going back to an apartment in Seattle. (willworker: how many of that group are on LJ? do you know?) We played Illuminati over pizza, then formed a "cuddle pile" on the flattened futon. Apparently that particular group of people is very snuggly with each other and people in general.
Sunday
Sometime after midnight, the party broke up and Hawk and I headed back to his apartment. Since I had no intention of driving back to Portland at 2-5AM, I crashed on Hawk's couch. In the morning we played some Wii games before going to the Seattle Science Fiction Museum. That was pretty neat. Picked some things up at the gift shop (a collectible metal Gort figure, from The Day The Earth Stood Still and a museum mug) then decided to wander to the Experience Music Project, since it was in the same building and our ticket to the SciFi Museum got us in the Music dealie too. That was ... less interesting. By this time, we were both hungry, so walked back toward his apartment and stopped at a nearby cafe. I left Seattle around 7 and got home around 10.
Now for the non-recap bit.
Remember that scene in High Fidelity where it's the morning after John Cusack has slept with Lisa Bonet, and they say goodbye on the street and go their separate ways? As soon as John turns, he looks in to the camera and starts monologuing on something completely different than Lisa?
I find myself doing something similar a lot. I don't have a camera to monologue in to, nor do I tend to have one night stands, but I find my inner monologue turning somewhere else as soon as I turn away from someone, especially if I know I won't see them or talk to them for hours or days. As soon as I stepped in to the stairwell in Hawk's building after saying goodbye to him, I started drafting this entry, actually. This bit of it, anyway. Not so much the recap..
Is this a survival mechanism picked up and passed down through the ages? Did someone find the ability to rapidly switch to radically different thoughts as soon as the stimulus for the initial thought was no longer present/relevant useful at some point? I know geeks tend to do this regularly. Watching Mike and Dave interact while I was in Colorado was entertaining, to say the least. By the end of the weekend, I was able to keep up when Mike would jump topics mid-conversation, only to return later after a few moments of silence. The first few times I stumbled, not having the history of the conversation easily available, as when we speak over IM.
It seems inefficient at first, but could potentially lead to more rapid, fluid conversations, once those involved have acclimated to eachother's thought processes and can avoid confusions from miscommunication or incomplete communications. And in a text medium it's certainly useful to be able to carry on three or more conversations at once.
Saturday
Met with willworker and his friends sometime after 3:30 ish at the Tacoma Museum of Glass. They had already gone through the museum, so duaiwe and I met up with them at a nearby cafe, then wandered the giftshop for a while before going back to an apartment in Seattle. (willworker: how many of that group are on LJ? do you know?) We played Illuminati over pizza, then formed a "cuddle pile" on the flattened futon. Apparently that particular group of people is very snuggly with each other and people in general.
Sunday
Sometime after midnight, the party broke up and Hawk and I headed back to his apartment. Since I had no intention of driving back to Portland at 2-5AM, I crashed on Hawk's couch. In the morning we played some Wii games before going to the Seattle Science Fiction Museum. That was pretty neat. Picked some things up at the gift shop (a collectible metal Gort figure, from The Day The Earth Stood Still and a museum mug) then decided to wander to the Experience Music Project, since it was in the same building and our ticket to the SciFi Museum got us in the Music dealie too. That was ... less interesting. By this time, we were both hungry, so walked back toward his apartment and stopped at a nearby cafe. I left Seattle around 7 and got home around 10.
Now for the non-recap bit.
Remember that scene in High Fidelity where it's the morning after John Cusack has slept with Lisa Bonet, and they say goodbye on the street and go their separate ways? As soon as John turns, he looks in to the camera and starts monologuing on something completely different than Lisa?
I find myself doing something similar a lot. I don't have a camera to monologue in to, nor do I tend to have one night stands, but I find my inner monologue turning somewhere else as soon as I turn away from someone, especially if I know I won't see them or talk to them for hours or days. As soon as I stepped in to the stairwell in Hawk's building after saying goodbye to him, I started drafting this entry, actually. This bit of it, anyway. Not so much the recap..
Is this a survival mechanism picked up and passed down through the ages? Did someone find the ability to rapidly switch to radically different thoughts as soon as the stimulus for the initial thought was no longer present/relevant useful at some point? I know geeks tend to do this regularly. Watching Mike and Dave interact while I was in Colorado was entertaining, to say the least. By the end of the weekend, I was able to keep up when Mike would jump topics mid-conversation, only to return later after a few moments of silence. The first few times I stumbled, not having the history of the conversation easily available, as when we speak over IM.
It seems inefficient at first, but could potentially lead to more rapid, fluid conversations, once those involved have acclimated to eachother's thought processes and can avoid confusions from miscommunication or incomplete communications. And in a text medium it's certainly useful to be able to carry on three or more conversations at once.