Jan 19

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I remember taking a “purity test” back when we were all on livejournal spilling our guts and taking quizzes to find out which Muppet I am most like. I don’t remember being told that I was the purest thing around. I really wondered how perverse that made me. I still don’t feel pure, but upon recent thought, I’m not even sure I know what it is.

Perverse is defined as being turned away from what is good: improper, corrupt, and wrongheaded.

Don’t we all feel this way sometimes?

In fact, it feels like it is all over the place these days. A search on Google News for “perverse” in the last day of news turned up over a thousand results. The commonality of something isn’t a reason to claim appropriateness, but it doesn’t bring any clarity. It is tough to make our own judgment calls in this type of climate. Here, though, it can be a blessing to grow older, as experience brings more and more things to compare and ponder. In my head I do have a rule of thumb.

Perversion is what has hurt you as it will probably hurt someone else; it is what your mind may accept but your heart rejects.

Easy nuff?

But…you see it and you know something or someone that is perverse, deeply perverse. You think, I’ve thought that, I’ve fantasized that, but I’ve not actually acted on it. This is of course bothersome. Are we not all perverse?

I’ve thought up a litmus test:
Be alone. Feel alone. Now add what you are questioning. If it hurts, it’s perverse. If it interrupts, you have some more thinking to do. If it enhances, embrace it.

Thoughts?

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Oct 31

Gregg, my significant-other, and I are en route to Seattle. Since I was working on my laptop I made him keep both my drinks - coffee and water - on his tray. In one of my fidgety moments I went to put my sweatshirt under the seat. In the process, an all t0o familiar chain of events occurred. One tip of my sweatshirt went into the coffee cup while another knocked over the cup of water which proceeded to spill all over Gregg’s lap.

I went directly toward my sweatshirt. Gregg went directly toward me.

I think panicked, did the coffee or water spill on my sweatshirt?
Gregg thinks, did it get on my bf or the sweatshirt?

This seems like a fundamental difference. Ever find that you aren’t on the same page?

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