Yes, my friends. And what have we learned from that last little entry? There are tragic consequences when you drink and blog.
Today has just sort of been thoroughly depressing. My mother called and related to me, in detail, a news story about an 86 year old man who could not control his car and careened through a farmer's market, destrying the whole place and killing 8 people. Then, when he finally did stop and got out of his car some brave citizen had to step in to prevent a throng of people from "tearing the old man apart, limb from limb." Nice story to drink in along with your cup of coffee, right?
Then I get to work, and as I'm sitting here registering a patron into the library, she asks, "Would you like to hear just about the saddest thing? I just checked my e-mail, and my sister's little boy, the cutest little boy, has just been diagnosed with autism. He can't form sentences, and at this point maybe he never will. The cutest little boy." And she just shook her head.
And I'm wondering, just what is it about today, perhaps about me, that makes random people want to sit down and unburden themselves? I suppose that's alright...I don't really mind listening and interjecting the occasional, "oh, that's terrible," or issuing the empathetic pat on the hand, but...geez.
And you know what?! If he's still an adorable child I'm sure everyone will love him just as much, it doesn't matter if he will never write a novel. And now I have unburdened myself onto you and perpetuated this whole cycle...damn ironic, isn't it?
Today has just sort of been thoroughly depressing. My mother called and related to me, in detail, a news story about an 86 year old man who could not control his car and careened through a farmer's market, destrying the whole place and killing 8 people. Then, when he finally did stop and got out of his car some brave citizen had to step in to prevent a throng of people from "tearing the old man apart, limb from limb." Nice story to drink in along with your cup of coffee, right?
Then I get to work, and as I'm sitting here registering a patron into the library, she asks, "Would you like to hear just about the saddest thing? I just checked my e-mail, and my sister's little boy, the cutest little boy, has just been diagnosed with autism. He can't form sentences, and at this point maybe he never will. The cutest little boy." And she just shook her head.
And I'm wondering, just what is it about today, perhaps about me, that makes random people want to sit down and unburden themselves? I suppose that's alright...I don't really mind listening and interjecting the occasional, "oh, that's terrible," or issuing the empathetic pat on the hand, but...geez.
And you know what?! If he's still an adorable child I'm sure everyone will love him just as much, it doesn't matter if he will never write a novel. And now I have unburdened myself onto you and perpetuated this whole cycle...damn ironic, isn't it?
