Sunday, June 5, 2011

I spent my entire day reading this blog from the beginning. I haven't made it out of 2008 yet.

I go through a two-part cycle when it comes to how I accept information into my life. Sometimes I'm a voracious newshound, reading all the time, raging and fretting, bring it up when people just want to joke around, and judging and dismissing people who don't care about what I think is important. And if I'm really comfortable with someone or already dislike them, I will feel free to attack them about it.[1]

And other times I completely check out. Completely. I only hear about the most grievous of events as little chirps and hamfisted discussions catch my attention at work. I was in one of these blackouts last year when Haiti was devastated by the earthquake. I found out something like THREE DAYS LATER. My ability to ignore the world around me is strong.

When I inevitably cycle back into being on full alert about world events, I look back on what I was doing the prior week ("20 minute internet searches for pictures of Esmond Romilly? Really?" or exhaustive research about Queen Victoria's first daughter for no apparent reason other than I wondered if she was a bitch like her mother, and looked like her), then I start to feel guilty. I feel like I'm wasting my time, and like not paying attention to events is perpetuating the problems that created them, even if my only reaction to them would be to later get in a fight at work about it.

And that's about it! I see no end to this cycle. I have to assume that my blackout periods are regulated by my brain to keep me from going absolutely insane. Victimization of people by the government, big business, human rights violations, kidnap and murders of overseas journalists, dog fighting, strip mining, femicide still happening in Juarez, American vet soldiers killing themselves on the steps of VA hospitals! I take the distress of these things on completely. If I was flipping out about these things full time, I would die of stress-induced heart complications while still in my 20s.

Anyway, the above linked blog is very fascinating and certainly started a nice guilt spiral about being another do-nothing baby with nothing to bitch about but my various luxuries. Enjoy! No, really. Do read it, it's an interesting slice of life about her experience as an enlisted female in the army, serving in Iraq, and dealing with it later.

[1] Last week I watched the Pat Tillman documentary. I was in a state afterward, outraged at the implications, and plagued by descriptions of his veins making a sound "like a drinking fountain" as they expelled all of his blood once one of his platoon had shot his head off. Soon after, poor soul, my mother called me and began to talk about an interview she had watched recently with Paris Hilton and her stupid bitch mother. I lost it, screeching in all caps into the phone some shit about defiling oneself by the information we take in - I can be a real dick, but I don't give a fuck, 'cause I still think I'm right and haters gonna hate, after they watch the Hangover 2.

Now, please ignore the irony of the post beneath this one in which I cry about not being able to wear costumes 24/7.

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