commotiocordis

A sort-of response to "An Issue in Sherlock That Annoys Me and Why", which is an essay about gifted persons and emotion, with specific reference to the eponymous character in the BBC drama "Sherlock".

This is mostly just YES THIS with a large dose of WOW MY CHILDHOOD LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT IT encased in a few giant, run-on paragraphs. 

Also, let me just get modesty and such out of the way: labeling yourself as intelligent is such a Not Done thing (made even worse by societal expectations of women, but that's another rant), and I hate comparing/being compared to other people because I will always zoom in on the way(s) that I fall short, so this entire thing is extremely uncomfortable to write.  But if I keep apologizing every time I refer to the fact that I consider myself part of this group of Super Screwed-Up Super Gifted Super Freaks, it will be even more uncomfortable to read.  So.  Blanket "blah blah, I don't mean that other people are dumb, blah blah my self-worth on good days approaches that of a rock covered in toothpaste blah blah".

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And okay, this has gotten too long and I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore because I'm kind of upset now, but blah.  There it is.  I'm not sure there's any meaning or even relevance in any of this wordvomit, but have some stories about me.

You know what bothers me? The fact that I've never really been good at anything.

Ironic!LOL, Alexandria's melancholy when she's 28 hours from failing an organic chemistry test she can't get her stupid ass to study for and has slept weirdly (and by weird, I mean in 2 hour bursts with a very low total hour count) all week. It's 5am, which is probably the reason, though I've never found myself unable to allow the slightest stimuli to throw me into ". . . I fail" mode no matter what time of the day it is.

( Wherein I mope and act all juvenile and emo while espousing how I fail. )

So. Evidently somebody got all hacktastic on LJ recently. I've only heard about it, not seen anything (save the posts worrying about it on xfiles), but I figure I was planning to change my password anyway to something not so ridiculously easy--when they made it that you had to have numbers in your password, my good password got scrapped into something I could remember easily, but it's now also the same as a bunch of other things, which is badbadbad--so I figure might as well do it now.

I crashed the orchestra banquet yesterday (well, not so much crashed as was invited and came, but still, I was afraid it would be weird because I wasn't in orchestra this year). Caught myself looking around more than was quite necessary to see where Michelle was/if she was there yet/what she was doing, but I spent most of my time hanging out, which was nice.

And there were the best freaking brownies there. Seriously. We named them the orgasm brownies. Because they were like an orgasm in your mouth, trufax. But then we shortened them to the ORG brownies, because Alyssa's little brother was hanging around. And then when he asked what that stood for, his mum (who totally knew what we meant by it and laughed and tasted them and agreed) told him it meant Oh Really Good. So they're the orgasm/ORG/Oh Really Good brownies. I seriously want the recipe, but though a couple of people guessed, nobody knew who actually brought them for sure.

And then we played on the playground. That stuff is a lot bigger when you're young. I want to make an adult-sized playground because it made me sad that I couldn't really climb up this cool/odd climbing thing because it only took me two steps. And that I couldn't do the monkeybars because my feet hit the ground.

But the swings were fun, though they were prolly the shortest swings I've ever seen. Less than knee height. You had to either keep your legs straight out (save maybe a second of pumping them back at the pinnacle of the backswing) or sort of split them out sideways at the knees when you passed over the ground or your feet would drag. And I was wearing my sexyboots, so it was worse, because that was an added 4 inches. I tried to take them off mid-swing, which ended up being a bad idea. I sort of locked one leg straight out and propped the other across it at the knee and got the one off, but I was so surprised that I actually managed it and/or distracted because the couple of my mates that were on the swings with me were talking that I forgot about the having to move the legs funny thing right as I was ready to toss it off to the side and as I came back, my left foot (the one still with the boot) planted straight onto the ground and I flew backwards. Not fun. My butt was totally off the swing, I was hanging backwards by my knees (and I was going a decent speed/height, so I'm trying to recover at a rather high velocity), and I had caught the chain on my left arm--there's a rather satisfying bruise there now (though it's nowhere near as bad as it feels) that, if you squint, resembles a section of chain--so I slowed the swing down to a sufficient dismounting velocity and just fell down laughing. Because I nearly fell off a swing. Which is really funny, if you think about it. (Though painful.)

I think LJ's being a whore to me. There's another tag that's not mine, and I could have sworn that I already had an orchestra tag, but it appears that I don't. Oddness.

No school tomorrow/today/whatever, which is nice (and why I'm still awake and not moaning about how I should be asleep/working/whatever). Going over to the house of a girl in my theatre class for our latke party. Because potatoygoodness is love. Not sure how I'm going to get there/where it is, though. I thought she was going to call, but perhaps not. Must investigate.

And I want to switch out my icons. I've played with a couple recently, but I really want a Battlestar Galactica one next, as I've not had one of those yet. The picture I really want, though, is like a bazillion pixels by a million, so it looks horrible when I shrink it to icon size. I'm going to have to try to find a smaller version.

Lisa Edelstein supposedly went to the emergency room for fun as a child.

Hee. Me too. I sat in the car for hours on a drive down to Oklahoma a few years ago with my father to visit my grandmother, but my major motivating factor for going when none of the rest of my family did was because she was going to have surgery and I would have an excuse to hang around the hospital. While we were waiting for her to get out of surgery, I was exploring the hospital and talking to whomever didn't seem to be doing anything and hanging out down by the ER watching the medivac helicopters land and wheel patients in and stuff. /is a dork

I do stuff like that all the time. Like when I was 13 or so and there was a health day or something at the science center, and there was a guy presenting an automatic external defibrillator there, and I got into a discussion with him about the downpoints of the automatic machine after asking if you were able to cardiovert someone in irregular beat patterns besides ventricular fibrillation with it. He gave me a free t-shirt because I was so annoying (and right).

I'm working tomorrow, doing my volleyball refereeing thing. I always get nervous the first time I do it after it's been a while, because I'm like "Is this the right signal? Was that really a lift, or did I just think it looked like one? That other guy did the same thing earlier, did I call him on it?" and such.

Dad helped me come up with an idea for my theatre arts project/essay thing that I really like. So that's good. Got the polio book I'd been looking for that I needed for my history project/essay thing, now I've just got to read it. Still not sure how good the history idea is.