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Robin Goodfellow
Depressed Romie is a fairly archetypical creature. She cries a lot, to be sure, ocassionally rubbing her hands in dirt beforehand and/or lamenting the loss of her shadow. She whines -- charmingly and with great insight, but she whines -- perpetually. (Fortunately, this is not in the vein of "I watch my black fingernails against the darkness as I fall into the abyss" so much as "I have been cruelly betrayed by the world of dreams, and as I go so goes the cosmos." Still, it has been known to get old.) She tends to abandon or ignore any form of schoolwork in favor of bed, books, movies, and the pursuit of someone to whom she can whine further. Were she not ludicrously charismatic and so ruthlessly logical and visionary to be capable of justifying said depression to the extent that other people occasionally feel jealous, it is unlikely that anyone would put up with her for more than ten minutes, let alone months at a time. (It helps, of course, that she's private enough not to impose on anyone who doesn't offer to listen, but there remains a limit.)
Depressed Valancy is something else altogether. Depressed Valancy is intensely businesslike. Stoically, she plunges into schoolwork and cleaning sprees, biting off soldierly sentences and ignoring those around her as they interfere with duty. Tap her on the shoulder, and you may lose an arm. There are no tears; there is simply a decent into full battle mode.
Fortunately, Val is refusing to be depressed at this time, and so it only catches her in the mornings before she's really woken up. I say fortunately, because, well. . . Try for a second to imagine Depressed Valancy as the roommate of Manic Romie.
You see my point. If you don't, read this entry.
In any case, Val and I were having a conversation on this subject, which mainly consisted of me commending her for the productive nature of her depression versus the largely destructive nature of mine. "Wow!" I said, perched several feet up a door frame, "Wow! Your depression is indeed productive, in high contrast to mine Verily, 'tis a superior form of coping mechanism, revealing yet again your higher eschelon of sensibility!"
"Pish tosh," replied determined scholar Val, keying another Spanish poem into the computer. "We simply have different priorities. For example, I consider schoolwork to be a priority."
"Aha!" I exclaimed. "That explains it wonderous well."
And so it seemed to. Moments later, my neurons caught up, slamming headlong into the wall of a particle accelerator. I leapt down from my aerie, flailing wildly.
Romie: (stunned) I have priorities?
Val: Of course you do. Everyone does.
R: Right, okay, I accept that. But what the hell are they?
Val: Well, there's. . . And. . . Damn. Look, you're just kind of chaotic. Sometimes you like to write journal entries.
At this point, I began pacing the length of the apartment. Since it's a small apartment, it didn't take me long and was in some ways more akin to playing hopscotch. Before too long, I became obsessed with the pattern of wrinkles my bare feet left in the topsheet that passes for an area rug, and this occupied me for several minutes.
Romie: (master of the non-sequitor) Innocence. What's that about?
Val: Some people like that sort of thing.
Romie: No, I mean. . . Do you think I have it? I seem to, and yet I am worldly. Which is it?
Val: Mostly, you're Puckish. Any question of innocence isn't particularly relevant.
It's odd for me to realize just how chaotic I am, although much like the "hey, I'm a private person" paradigm shift it comes as no surprise to the rest of the world. I honestly didn't see it coming. Yes, I'm a Contrarian. Yes, I tend to rebel against authority of any kind. Not only do I work outside the box, but I pry at the lid to see if I can break it apart.
Still, it's kind of shocking. I mean, I like to build systems. I write constitutions for fun.
Val: Of course you do, dear. Systems engineered to guarantee your ability to move unfettered, which you use to replace any establishment you feel impedes your whimsy.
Well, there is that.
Depressed Valancy is something else altogether. Depressed Valancy is intensely businesslike. Stoically, she plunges into schoolwork and cleaning sprees, biting off soldierly sentences and ignoring those around her as they interfere with duty. Tap her on the shoulder, and you may lose an arm. There are no tears; there is simply a decent into full battle mode.
Fortunately, Val is refusing to be depressed at this time, and so it only catches her in the mornings before she's really woken up. I say fortunately, because, well. . . Try for a second to imagine Depressed Valancy as the roommate of Manic Romie.
You see my point. If you don't, read this entry.
In any case, Val and I were having a conversation on this subject, which mainly consisted of me commending her for the productive nature of her depression versus the largely destructive nature of mine. "Wow!" I said, perched several feet up a door frame, "Wow! Your depression is indeed productive, in high contrast to mine Verily, 'tis a superior form of coping mechanism, revealing yet again your higher eschelon of sensibility!"
"Pish tosh," replied determined scholar Val, keying another Spanish poem into the computer. "We simply have different priorities. For example, I consider schoolwork to be a priority."
"Aha!" I exclaimed. "That explains it wonderous well."
And so it seemed to. Moments later, my neurons caught up, slamming headlong into the wall of a particle accelerator. I leapt down from my aerie, flailing wildly.
Romie: (stunned) I have priorities?
Val: Of course you do. Everyone does.
R: Right, okay, I accept that. But what the hell are they?
Val: Well, there's. . . And. . . Damn. Look, you're just kind of chaotic. Sometimes you like to write journal entries.
At this point, I began pacing the length of the apartment. Since it's a small apartment, it didn't take me long and was in some ways more akin to playing hopscotch. Before too long, I became obsessed with the pattern of wrinkles my bare feet left in the topsheet that passes for an area rug, and this occupied me for several minutes.
Romie: (master of the non-sequitor) Innocence. What's that about?
Val: Some people like that sort of thing.
Romie: No, I mean. . . Do you think I have it? I seem to, and yet I am worldly. Which is it?
Val: Mostly, you're Puckish. Any question of innocence isn't particularly relevant.
It's odd for me to realize just how chaotic I am, although much like the "hey, I'm a private person" paradigm shift it comes as no surprise to the rest of the world. I honestly didn't see it coming. Yes, I'm a Contrarian. Yes, I tend to rebel against authority of any kind. Not only do I work outside the box, but I pry at the lid to see if I can break it apart.
Still, it's kind of shocking. I mean, I like to build systems. I write constitutions for fun.
Val: Of course you do, dear. Systems engineered to guarantee your ability to move unfettered, which you use to replace any establishment you feel impedes your whimsy.
Well, there is that.
no subject
When you say Contrarian...what's that? Because my mind immediately jumps to the contraries of some Plains Native American groups, who are basically loner-clowns who do everything backwards or sideways, say yes when they mean no, have their own peculiar code of ethics, and are partly there to show children the right way to behave through example of the wrong way. But I don't think that's what you're talking about.
As for Puck, haha! Yes! I once had a discussion with a friend, during rehearsals, as to whether he's "good" or "bad" in the play. It was difficult for me to argue with her because I couldn't my point understood: simply that he is not endowed with human emotions or morality. He can't be "evil"; he can't be "good". Innocence is like that. He just can't be judged by the same standards.
no subject
Effectively, a Contrarian always argues whichever side is being underrepresented, regardless of what the Contrarian actually believes. The idea is that unquestioned faith in any idea has no value, and that any concept, however horrendous, can be rationally argued by a charismatic person. To do so forces the others in the argument to accept that they believe what they believe because they believe it and figure out whether they're comfortable with that. It makes people discover their own ethics, and the fact that they do recognize universal truths.
The idea is that Truth will win the argument -- either your opponentfriend's belief will be confirmed, or it will alter to the Truth.
I could either attack or defend Contrarianism depending on the belief of who I was talking to.
I no longer use it in personal life, because it's usually not worth it. I only really make use of Contrarianism anymore if I am part of a legislative body -- and even then, not always. I'm a little too chaotic to be a good Contrarian, but I suppose that's part of Contrarianism too -- otherwise, you run the danger of losing the people who listen to your arguments.
-Romie
no subject
Romie: I am a master of organizational and economic systems.
Patrick: I have never met a more chaotic person in all my life.
Romie: I write constitutions in my spare time.
Patrick: You are more easily distracted by the world than a hyperactive child on sugar pills.
Romie: Oh look, a butterfly.
Patrick: In D&D, you would definately be chaotic good or perhaps chaotic neutral.
Romie: Let's rearrange my apartment and do tarot readings.
Patrick: Forget this. I'm leaving. (Leaves)
Romie: Eureka!!! I've just had a revelation! I'm the most whimsical person in the world. I may be chaotic. I'm more easily distracted than a ferret in a dime exhibit. If I were a D&D character, I'd be chaotic good. Why hasn't anyone told me this before?!?
(Romie storms off to write an LJ entry but gets distracted by the beautiful fauna ranging outside.)
Romie: Ooooohhh... pretty.
no subject
Baby, I'm sorry that I didn't give you the credit you deserve. You and Chad have both been instrumental in pointing out the whole "chaotic" business. It really is ridiculous that I didn't notice earlier, but I give you one excuse:
You've met my family.
Compared to them, I'm fairly even-keeled, don't you think?
loVe
Romie
ps you free this weekend, no-doze boy?
no subject
"There are times I think I'm doing things on principle," she said, "But mostly I just do what feels good . . . But that's a principle, too."
And just for fun, two more that strike my fancy and make me giggle every blessed time I read them.
"My uncle told me once there were 3 rules for a great opera. Make it loud, wear flashy clothes & if it's not going your way,kill yourself. It has no basis in reality, he added. That's why I like it."
And
"I think we should make all the flags in the parade out of long underwear," he said, "Because then only the really fun people will come."
That's my contribution for the evening.
Love y'all,
Deli
no subject
loVe,
Romie
Re:
Love y'all,
Delia
movies
(Anonymous) 2002-05-09 05:02 am (UTC)(link)rel