I think he must shudder when he remembers

I'm trying to force a transition here, but I'm pretty sure it's not going to work. My intent was something along the lines of, "Many ideas among the blue-beta community seem rather foreign to me. One is the assertion particularly common to women of the Board that marriage doesn't fix any problems. Another is dislike for particular Peircean colors." Truthfully, though, I just forgot to mention the first bit yesterday, intending to say that I can't imagine being consistently unhappy in the company of such a delightful woman as Lizzy, and that if the institution indeed lacks, the problem beyond its potency is winning such company in the first place.

The latter half is mostly an intro to today's rant, but it's a legitimate point in and of itself; when I have a circle of friends representing wonderfully every color of the spectrum (Uffish, Melyngoch, Latro, Ambrosia, Smurfs, MissE, Katya), it's pretty impossible to think poorly of any hue. In particular, I've grown fonder of yellow lately. For one, I've decided to embrace Myers-Briggs Perception and stop caring how things turn out, because when I'm dealing with people, they will very rarely be as satisfying in execution as theory. So yes, going to just find fulfillment in fun ideas and implement them as best I can.

Also, I'm finally finding additivity in myself, and there's a lot of yellowness to it. Like, we talked about ways people cope with post-epiphany blue afterglow in semiotics class the other day, and the red strategies were generally materialist aims, which added a self-satisfied green component to my already deep-rooted pride in minimalism (which has become not only philosophical but utilitarian after helping Trevor and Lizzy move).

Even more yellow is the anticlivity to censure I've realized in myself. (It's raining! Such wondrous weather this summer.) From OJ Simpson to Mark Hacking to la bamba's ex-boyfriend, I've always been quick to link myself with those condemned by society, seeing little difference between one psychologically remedial outsider and another. Indeed, I almost scorn desire to think of oneself as anything less than fundamentally dysfunctional, as evidenced by my distaste for Lacie's preferring an INTJ description with a positive spin and MissE's fondly reminiscing of days as the perfect EFY counselor.

Anyway, today's been great. I came up to the Wilk, talked to Meagan for a while, made a few edits to the PrinTeam website, then met with Drs. Manning and Chambers to discuss our pending revision of the Peircean personality test. It went very, very well, which deeply pleases me; I can't think of any other time when I've acted so professially, neither fleeing into the background nor putting up a front of randomness in the whole time from the e-mail to the phone call and through our meeting.

Honestly, that's an huge, huge step; I always flail about strangeness before me as I go so people won't expect me to be socially competent, even in things so small as putting all the exclamation marks in my FHE flyers after the first sentence. I was frankly terrified when Janssen invited me to her wedding, pleading with myself to please, please not call attention to myself in a setting where the importance of acting as one acts is singular and staggering. I simply can't deal with conversation unless it turns to philosophy or flattery; randomness is my desperate facsimile of spontaneity when truly all my orangeness could be represented in twenty lines of code:

open(ORANGE, ">>$acquaintance");
print ORANGE 'Are you going to school?';
while (

)
{print ORANGE 'Tell me more about $_.';}
print ORANGE 'Are you working?';
while (

)
{print ORANGE 'Tell me more about $_.';}
print ORANGE 'Where are you living?';
while (

)
{print ORANGE 'Tell me more about $_.';}
close(ORANGE) or die('Hey, good seeing you!');

Find any tester of sufficient banality, and I'll fail a Turing test within five minutes. I shall not soon forget the look on Madame Hull's face when I asked her for the second time in a week what her favorite food was. (Chips and salsa.) Even last night with Poetasters, I missed out on a gathering afterward by disappearing, unnoticed except by Thirdmango, when I ran out of orange. But hey, gotta head off to Institute. I'll pull an Uffish/Leibniz and close reminding myself that I was good today and just will have to work at improvement.