I won our fantasy football 'super bowl' this year! My prize money is almost exactly how much it's going to cost to fix my car. Life is funny that way, but it coulda been far worse-I'm a pretty lucky fellow, all things considered.
I hate myself. (Where the fuck did that come from)?
I'm suddenly awash in a private tsunami of self-loathing.
No.
More like self-contempt.
Shame.
Guilt.
Have you seen the news lately? What the fuck gives me the right to feel good about anything?
I can't wrap my walnut-sized brain around 35,000+ people dying- I'm still distraught over nightmare 9/11 and the man-made Hell in Iraq.
Hundreds of dead Russian schoolkids left me depressed for weeks. It's a long list.
I can't deal with 35,000. When I first hear the news, my thoughts are about three friends who are in the region. Three. Nice small number. I can worry about three. If I can keep a narrow emotional focus, I can stay detatched from just how bad things really are. The real scope is too vast for empathy or understanding.
Besides, it's really far away. I hate myself for thinking this.
Look around you. If you're in the USA, there's a good chance you are surrounded by happy drones who don't need elaborate psychological constructs in order to deal with truly horrific news.
They're oblivious. They don't care. They say the same thing in every place I've ever worked.
CubeLady #1: "Did you hear about ( insert atrocity or disaster here)?"
Cubelady#2: "Tsk. That's terrible. I tell you what, if that bitch takes my stapler again, me and her gonna have words!"
How I envy them. I wish I could make it all go away without the inevitable crushing hangover-usually alcohol-induced, but occasionally intensified by the aftermath of Bad Love Gone Worse.
Did I mention that I won our football championship?
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