Huts and other Musings

According to my calculations, an abundance of houses are for sale in my hometown recently. They beckon to me as I drive by, realizing that I should probably be focusing on the road instead of the trim. Upon being informed that spring and summer are the best times for putting one’s house on the market, I realized that I am guilty of musing at houses a lot more once the warm weather rolls around. Obviously I am incapable of buying a cute little shingled cottage with a large drive way, but my thoughts need to be occupied by something on the way to school or doctor’s appointments or wherever else it is that I stumble to all day. I guess it’s just the simplistic indie vibes in me that long to make my own preserves to shelve in my adorable kitchen, or spend hours choosing the perfect shade of wood floor. Still I have no shame. I hope this counts as an issue worthy of posting because if I had to force myself to write about the flesh eating man from Miami hopped up on bath salts this entry would have been dreadful. 

.....just kidding.

How 'bout my uncanny and most times unwanted ability to notice change only when it has passed? I often become so obsessive over details that I fail to notice how dynamic my life actually is.

As cold as it may seem, tragedy is a socially conditioned behavior. The death of a beloved dog is tragic, while the death of a Midwestern pig is dinner. The brutal car accident in one’s family is devastating, while an I-495 crash is just morning news. However, since we are mentally unable to truly see a situation from the perspective of anyone other than our own, tragedy is completely subjective.It’s always been mysterious to me that we our supposed to value one set of people we know over another set of people we know to be considered good humans. I guess this can be derived from the fact that I've never had great tragedy strike my life. I assume the logical course of action to take if it ever did would be to sever this conditioned attachment in order to move on from the tragedy. It’s also kind of insensitive to view this as a math problem but I’m trying to approach this in the only way I know how. What I’m saying is, there’s no effective way to cope with great tragedy, and I don’t need to live through a plane crash to know how difficult it is. If a disaster occurs outside of my control, how can I expect to control my emotions about the disaster? The key is surviving it, not avoiding it.

Through, not around.