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2003-04-04

Have a Wicked good weekend

ďEvery reader finds himself. The writerís work is merely a kind of optical instrument that makes it possible for the reader to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have seen in himself.Ē Ė Marcel Proust

First of all, I would like to change every ďheĒ in that quote to ďshe,Ē ďhimselfĒ to ďherself,Ē and so on. Secondly, I would like to mention that I find this strangely apropos, as the title of the book IíM reading right now is Wicked . But I must say, I actually knew that about myself before I began reading this novel, good as it is so far. Reminds me of the boys , all this wickedness. Hee hee.

Alright, what have we here? Friday! And everything is properly brewing over here at the office; Iíll be busy with plenty of work to do, and will rest assured that the disarray and frustration and cattiness will not die around me, without me, as I disappear into the litigation process for several clients.

Did I say process? I meant paperwork. Oh, the weekend, Iím so excited for the weekend! Not much happening, my calendar is open, an anodyne schedule. Sunday Iím going to the ballet with a German woman I work with. Romeo and Juliet. Iíve never been to the ballet, and Iím looking forward to it, to meeting a handful of new people, to live theater. Even if Iím missing my sisterís birthday bar-b-cue (which wasnít scheduled until this week, but dammit!) Iíll have to figure out how to get her present to her before Sunday. But these are trivial things you need not know.

Am I a bad person because I donít care that a reporter died in Iraq? Known risk, I think. People at the office are outraged, upset, one woman sounds like sheís about to burst into tears. My reaction? I didnít know him and it had no effect on me other than to think, I feel sorry for his family. Unfortunate when ANYONE dies, and that happens every day, to people all around the world. I reacted emotionally to the death of that young protestor who was bulldozed in Israel, because she was young, because she believed she was helping a family and was murdered for her efforts, and thatís a tragedy. But someone who puts himself in the war to report on the goings-on, he knows of that danger and that is a risk that he took willingly. Unfortunate? Yes. Am I going to cry over him? No.

Does that mean Iím desensitized? NoÖ or maybe. It means Iím realistic. If I broke down every time I read a headline or heard of a death, I would never get anything done. I wouldnít enjoy my life as Iím still living it. Iím saving that upset for those that I know and love, some of which has already been spent and hardened me just a little (my cousin was a casualty of this "war"). A part of life is death, and a part of living is surviving the millions (or is it thousands) that die every day.

So I really wish these sniveling ninnies would pull their faces away from the television and get back to work.

Maybe Iím just a bad person. But I like to believe that I just know how to assign my emotions appropriately, and grieving over every headline is just a waste of time and a waste of tears. There are just too many headlines. Fuckiní media.

What I mean by all of this, is have a great weekend! And I canít wait to tell you about the ballet and the other wonderful times I will have had! See? I can be all cheery and shit.

-Barbarella

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Have a Wicked good weekend 2003-04-04 9:12 a.m. ďEvery reader finds himself. The writerís work is merely a kind of optical instrument that makes it possible for the reader to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have seen in himself.Ē Ė Marcel Proust

First of all, I would like to change every ďheĒ in that quote to ďshe,Ē ďhimselfĒ to ďherself,Ē and so on. Secondly, I would like to mention that I find this strangely apropos, as the title of the book IíM reading right now is Wicked . But I must say, I actually knew that about myself before I began reading this novel, good as it is so far. Reminds me of the boys , all this wickedness. Hee hee.

Alright, what have we here? Friday! And everything is properly brewing over here at the office; Iíll be busy with plenty of work to do, and will rest assured that the disarray and frustration and cattiness will not die around me, without me, as I disappear into the litigation process for several clients.

Did I say process? I meant paperwork. Oh, the weekend, Iím so excited for the weekend! Not much happening, my calendar is open, an anodyne schedule. Sunday Iím going to the ballet with a German woman I work with. Romeo and Juliet. Iíve never been to the ballet, and Iím looking forward to it, to meeting a handful of new people, to live theater. Even if Iím missing my sisterís birthday bar-b-cue (which wasnít scheduled until this week, but dammit!) Iíll have to figure out how to get her present to her before Sunday. But these are trivial things you need not know.

Am I a bad person because I donít care that a reporter died in Iraq? Known risk, I think. People at the office are outraged, upset, one woman sounds like sheís about to burst into tears. My reaction? I didnít know him and it had no effect on me other than to think, I feel sorry for his family. Unfortunate when ANYONE dies, and that happens every day, to people all around the world. I reacted emotionally to the death of that young protestor who was bulldozed in Israel, because she was young, because she believed she was helping a family and was murdered for her efforts, and thatís a tragedy. But someone who puts himself in the war to report on the goings-on, he knows of that danger and that is a risk that he took willingly. Unfortunate? Yes. Am I going to cry over him? No.

Does that mean Iím desensitized? NoÖ or maybe. It means Iím realistic. If I broke down every time I read a headline or heard of a death, I would never get anything done. I wouldnít enjoy my life as Iím still living it. Iím saving that upset for those that I know and love, some of which has already been spent and hardened me just a little (my cousin was a casualty of this "war"). A part of life is death, and a part of living is surviving the millions (or is it thousands) that die every day.

So I really wish these sniveling ninnies would pull their faces away from the television and get back to work.

Maybe Iím just a bad person. But I like to believe that I just know how to assign my emotions appropriately, and grieving over every headline is just a waste of time and a waste of tears. There are just too many headlines. Fuckiní media.

What I mean by all of this, is have a great weekend! And I canít wait to tell you about the ballet and the other wonderful times I will have had! See? I can be all cheery and shit.