Awe Creeps Up On You
Jul. 26th, 2002 12:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rinueThere is a word that some people use to describe things which are unforgivably sappy, occur with very little provocation, and seem to produce an odd glowing soft-focus reaction in the people who are vulnerable to this kind of nonsense. The word is "shmoopy," which perfectly reflects the condition it describes.
I avoid shmoopiness like the plague. Even the sound of the word revolts me, doe-eyed and babyish -- I prefer words with an edge to them, like "capricious," "ascerbic," or "poignant."
It seems, however, that even the best of us can occasionally be dragged into a shmoopy moment when placed under extreme conditions.
Val, as you probably know, is leaving for Japan. On Saturday (tomorrow). For at least a year. I haven't gotten shmoopy over that, in case you're wondering. I have, however, run around on errands, answered telephones, fulfilled a moral support role, and played a lot of Final Fantasy X in order to get to a particular cut scene Val wanted to show to her mother. (We couldn't just jump to it, because she also wanted her mother to get the 24+ hours of backstory. As stated: I've played a lot of Final Fantasy X in the past four days.) During this time, I have gotten very little sleep, even less of which has been restful.
In any case, Val's father took us out to lunch at Cheddar's, and we split a Monte Cristo. That's not shmoopy either, that's more "Damn the Man! If we want to eat a ham and turkey sandwich that's deep-fried in powdered sugar and then dipped in raspberry jam, then we're going to eat a ham and turkey sandwich that's deep-fried in powdered sugar and then dipped in raspberry jam. And we're doing to make Dumas references all the while!!!!"
Then, because of our impeccable training in logic, we concluded that if we were ordering a Monte Cristo, we might as well order a chocolate milkshake too.
(This is where the shmoopiness comes in.)
Val takes a sip of the milkshake, and then without really thinking about it beyond the usual "hey, Romie and milk . . . weird" check, I drink out of the same straw.
That's when it hits me:
Immunohomeostasis.
Val, Patrick, and I have Immunohomeostasis.
That means that we've shared enough glasses and forks and air and personal space that we have the same bacteria in our systems. We have each other's germs. When I walk around during the day, or when I am sleeping, there are pieces of Patrick in me, elements of Val. We've become a single biological environment.
That's kind of amazing.
I avoid shmoopiness like the plague. Even the sound of the word revolts me, doe-eyed and babyish -- I prefer words with an edge to them, like "capricious," "ascerbic," or "poignant."
It seems, however, that even the best of us can occasionally be dragged into a shmoopy moment when placed under extreme conditions.
Val, as you probably know, is leaving for Japan. On Saturday (tomorrow). For at least a year. I haven't gotten shmoopy over that, in case you're wondering. I have, however, run around on errands, answered telephones, fulfilled a moral support role, and played a lot of Final Fantasy X in order to get to a particular cut scene Val wanted to show to her mother. (We couldn't just jump to it, because she also wanted her mother to get the 24+ hours of backstory. As stated: I've played a lot of Final Fantasy X in the past four days.) During this time, I have gotten very little sleep, even less of which has been restful.
In any case, Val's father took us out to lunch at Cheddar's, and we split a Monte Cristo. That's not shmoopy either, that's more "Damn the Man! If we want to eat a ham and turkey sandwich that's deep-fried in powdered sugar and then dipped in raspberry jam, then we're going to eat a ham and turkey sandwich that's deep-fried in powdered sugar and then dipped in raspberry jam. And we're doing to make Dumas references all the while!!!!"
Then, because of our impeccable training in logic, we concluded that if we were ordering a Monte Cristo, we might as well order a chocolate milkshake too.
(This is where the shmoopiness comes in.)
Val takes a sip of the milkshake, and then without really thinking about it beyond the usual "hey, Romie and milk . . . weird" check, I drink out of the same straw.
That's when it hits me:
Immunohomeostasis.
Val, Patrick, and I have Immunohomeostasis.
That means that we've shared enough glasses and forks and air and personal space that we have the same bacteria in our systems. We have each other's germs. When I walk around during the day, or when I am sleeping, there are pieces of Patrick in me, elements of Val. We've become a single biological environment.
That's kind of amazing.
