The lull that made me a responsible citizen

I suppose my absence has been duly noted.

The A-Z challenge was part of it. I'm just not good at sticking to structure, it kills the Mind of the Artiste, bohemic bullshit etc etc. So from here on out the letters with which I start my posts will be completely random.

What's more, way back when (in May), I was going into the final stretch of TONS OF SCHOOLWORK. That's over and done with now. (It went well.)

And then I started working. That's right - no one can ever tell me I haven't worked a day in my life anymore. In fact, I've worked for approximately 2 weeks! The job is one of the least glamorous I can think of - my neighbor set me up at her job, which is some sort of packaging facility for various dental products. This includes hands-on working with a LOT of plastic: I swear it's changing my genetic makeup. Most of the other tasks can be boiled down to simple button pressing. Well ... somebody has to do it. The main thing I've learned from this job is that I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure I don't end up at one like it for the duration of my life. Everyone working there is very kind, though, and there's unlimited free hot chocolate, and (sadly, limited) free cookies. And the pay's fine and dandy; I believe I get paid more than the average young person, and all I do is push buttons eight hours a day.

Said pay will be dumped into my bank account on the same day I leave for a convention, at which I'll also be working: more precisely, four-hour shifts in the cafeteria. I have no experience with registers whatsoever, and two of my five shifts are from four to eight in the morning. Aka the worst possible time, smack in the middle of the sleeping cycle. I'll have to sleep in shifts as well!

At least this will improve my CV???

Well, I sense approximately twenty days of down time during which I may or may not blog a bit. NO PROMISES.

Hugs

Personally, I love hugs. I love leaning on people and I love cuddling with them (especially since my body temperature is usually very chilly, so they make excellent radiators).

However, it must be explicitly stated that hugging, leaning on, or even touching people has to be mutually okay. Now, we're not getting into molestation territory here (mutual molestation??? whoa this is getting all NSFW up in here) - just basic acknowledgement of personal space.

Don't be a Voldemort.

I, for one, even though I like having physical contact, cannot stand when people I do not know and do not want to be close to get in my face. Being an attentive listener does not mean channeling their words into your spirit by permanently keeping your hand up their butt. Nodding along, tapping someone on the shoulder, and making affirmative sounds will do. You do not have to touch me. You do not have to rest your hand tenderly upon my waist whilst gazing into my eyes as though they were the most enticing of woodland pools. I'm OK with you not doing that. Seriously. It's cool.

(In less facetious terms, people who insist on keeping physical contact throughout a conversation kinda give me the heebie-jeebies.)

Another thing I despise is when people slip their arm through mine. To me, walking armsie in armsie with another chick feels kind of like being chained to a massive morningstar-style prison ball by heavy indestructible links. That, or as if they're urinating on me. I am not your territory. I want to be able to drift away without needing to wrest my arm free first. Since I'm so uncomfortable with this gesture, I usually kindly tell people this, and they'll let go. But some people just don't get it. One time I escaped from an arm link only to feel the same arm wrap constrictingly around my shoulders. Flesh status = crawling.

Point: Hugs and touching is great and cozy and fantabulously fuzzy ... if the other person is OK with it. If you aren't certain they are ... don't touch them. At least not if that person is me.