March 22

6pm:

Angry at myself, why?  Well, because I suppose that it's part of my pathology, when things are very wrong, and I feel powerless, I turn my anger inward, senselessly.

I've been reading over my own words in the last week and I get angry at myself, because what have I been writing about, what have I been doing, trivial trivial all of it.  I feel selfish, and I berate myself for it, because I have, when others have not.  In the face of the horror of war, of all the horrors big and small that surround us day in and day out, yet barely touch us, barely touch some of us, very privileged and lucky people, I feel guilt for having, for living, when others have not.

And I get angry at my anger, useless senseless anger.  Surely survivors guilt is even more worthy to be held by someone else, when I am more than surviving, but thriving in a life of comparative luxury to what others are forced to live or die in.

But what else can I talk about, or write about, than myself, I'm only who I can speak for, I can't voice for others.

Yet anything I write about me, seems pathetic and insignificant in the wake of the world.

Part of that sensibility I think comes from survivors guilt that developed as a child, living in a world, the youngest child in a family where the eldest child had died.  The sister I felt closest to, passing away when I was very young, and there being anger, anger at the hurt in the faces of those around me whom I loved, my parents, my siblings, too young to really understand, but young enough to see loss, hurt, and anger, and to have only the emotional and mental ability to internalize it.

I suppose then, I am childlike in the wake of this war, that is rocking our world, that is marking the year, the month, the days, with historical change, moving us where, towards what. 

I don't want to be an impotent, powerless child, sitting here, angry and myself, and blaming myself for living, for feeling any joy in the world, or having any comfort, when there is so much loss.  Yet the power of the governments that make these decisions, make me feel like a child, like an infant, powerless, angry, shocked, confused, and regressing I find myself lashing inward, instead of outward... for what can one little being do?

What can we do?

4pm:

Everything seems small and insignificant in the shadow of the clouds from dropping bombs.  Though they are far far away, the impact is surely felt around the world, and will be even by those babes too young to understand what is happening now.  All the actions we take, big or small, with repercussions, and such big, horrible actions.

Everything that happens here, to me, seems small and trivial, but I record it regardless, should it mean something, anything.

3pm:

Ah.... happy to be home.  Enjoyed my visit with my folx and with my sister's family, but really, after a while, you just want your own bed again.  Especially when your bed is a King sized bed, and the bed you're relegated to when visiting is a double, two big people and two little dogs sleeping in a double bed makes for not a lot of movement.

I wrote while I was away, for my journal, but was unable to upload, so there are a few days worth of back log now up.

Traveling back from the Island didn't take us quite as long as our journey to,  but I'm still pooped.  Now I can also sit and go through the pictures we took and get a look at what we did and photo edit it.  I haven't still yet, and I'm curious to see how they turned out.  I've never posed with a Chainsaw before... 

We had the unfortunate occurrence of someone hijacking our email to send virus laden child porn out and about while we were away, oh joy oh joy.  Though it was not done through our system, so it's not as bad as it could be. 

There are two play parties going on tonight, a public venue, and a private party, but I'm not sure I have the energy to go anywhere.  If we had a car, I think it might be a different story, but after being 'in transit' most of the day, car ride, ferry ride, bus ride, sky train ride... well, I'm not so sure I'm willing to prop myself up in something leather and bus across town later.  I think I may prefer to lounge nude in front of the TV stuffing my face full of junk food and taking in SNL.

If you want more, there's plenty from the previous days... just hit that previous button (and don't forget the clix while your at it).

I fluxuate, between trying to cope with world events unfolding, and escapism, don't misread my escapist day to day ramblings as a lack of care, it's a lack of my ability to constantly attend to the atrocity, a way of trying to cope, to try and give myself a break from thinking about, and feeling about, the war.