cranky post is cranky
I hate biochemistry. Not the laboratory sort or anything; the fact that you can go along thinking you're a rational-- even sometimes happy-- person and then suddenly you get blindsided by a hormonal change you didn't sign up for anyway and spend days defaulting to misery when there isn't anything to distract you, or snapping at people when they can't counter-balance you for cheerful. There are a lot of science fictional things I don't actually believe in: I don't believe in people colonizing Mars, for instance. People aren't even allowed on the International Space Station for a quarter the time it would take to get to Mars because their muscles atrophy too much, and that's not even counting the psychology of it. Even if you get there in still vaguely functional shape, then there's the infinite complexity of building a functioning ecosystem when we don't even really understand the ones going on here. (How many decades did it take them to work out that you can't grow maple trees in Alaska without transporting the soil mycorrhizae that allow them to feed themselves? What hidden bacterial components do we need to survive that we don't know about b/c no one's ever been too long without them?) It's a nicely grandiose ideal, but I don't actually believe in it working.
But if I were going to spin up a science fictional future I actually want to live in (not, I admit, that I realistically believe in this one either) I want one where we have a Vulcan-like conscious control over our mental abilities and outputs.
grauwulf, when he's annoyed with me, accuses me of being too logical and calculated; I've never been able to figure out if he actually thinks this, or if he understands that actually it's not even remotely true. I overthink things a lot, but it's largely because once I get upset/angry/annoyed about anything, I completely lose the ability to construct rational chains of thought, and then I yell at people and inevitably start to cry. The same thing happens when other people yell at me. The fact that I hate and resent that I do this makes it noticeably worse. Doing my best not to get upset about stuff in the first place is a coping mechanism, and not ultimately a particularly effective one. There will always be something else more upsetting in the world.
Today, there is a great deal of tromping about upstairs sliding things around, and there's another guy here helping out who keeps trying to talk to me (ok, all of twice, and I looked at him rather blankly both of them, so he's probably convinced I hate him, which is not true but ok if it convinces him not to try again) and in theory everything but hooking up the wiring will be done by next week, which would be awesome, but I want my house back *now*. So does the cat; he keeps trying to investigate plastic-covered doorways, yowl at closed doors, or jump up on the dining room table and drink out of the fishbowl I put the spare aquatic plants in. Possibly I should just give up and go out to play with the yard. There's still the other half of the front fence that needs to have the grass removed & be planted with daffodils, and it's rapidly becoming nice out. After 1, I can actually go to the library, where they have a bunch of books about orangutans waiting for me.
Xposty from dreamwidth, but yes, I'm still here.
But if I were going to spin up a science fictional future I actually want to live in (not, I admit, that I realistically believe in this one either) I want one where we have a Vulcan-like conscious control over our mental abilities and outputs.
grauwulf, when he's annoyed with me, accuses me of being too logical and calculated; I've never been able to figure out if he actually thinks this, or if he understands that actually it's not even remotely true. I overthink things a lot, but it's largely because once I get upset/angry/annoyed about anything, I completely lose the ability to construct rational chains of thought, and then I yell at people and inevitably start to cry. The same thing happens when other people yell at me. The fact that I hate and resent that I do this makes it noticeably worse. Doing my best not to get upset about stuff in the first place is a coping mechanism, and not ultimately a particularly effective one. There will always be something else more upsetting in the world.
Today, there is a great deal of tromping about upstairs sliding things around, and there's another guy here helping out who keeps trying to talk to me (ok, all of twice, and I looked at him rather blankly both of them, so he's probably convinced I hate him, which is not true but ok if it convinces him not to try again) and in theory everything but hooking up the wiring will be done by next week, which would be awesome, but I want my house back *now*. So does the cat; he keeps trying to investigate plastic-covered doorways, yowl at closed doors, or jump up on the dining room table and drink out of the fishbowl I put the spare aquatic plants in. Possibly I should just give up and go out to play with the yard. There's still the other half of the front fence that needs to have the grass removed & be planted with daffodils, and it's rapidly becoming nice out. After 1, I can actually go to the library, where they have a bunch of books about orangutans waiting for me.
Xposty from dreamwidth, but yes, I'm still here.