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It’s been a weird week – and it’s only Monday.  I was working at home on Friday and walked into the kitchen for more coffee and as I passed the television, I saw something about a school shooting, but I didn’t pay any attention to it. It is a sad testament to the state of our society when a school shooting (or any shooting) doesn’t warrant anything more than a “well, that sucks” thought from me. I didn’t know if it was a university or a high school and I was busy so I didn’t take the time at that particular moment to find out that it was an elementary school and 20 little kids were dead because of some asshole with emotional issues.

It put me in a funk. And I don’t especially like children.

This holiday season has been increasingly hard on me. Today marks the 23rd anniversary of my father’s death. It’s not something I normally think about. He isn’t someone who occupies much of my thought space. But I was thinking about it today. I was 22 years old and he was such a powerful force in my life at that time. And it was the very first time in my life that I had ever come up against something that I could not influence in some way. There was absolutely nothing I could do. I never understood the concept of powerlessness until 1989. 23 years later, I understand it better but I don’t like it any better.

And then I think about MoC. She is always with me, every day. A song, a certain combination of words, a commercial, a lolcat pic from icanhascheezeburger … whatever it is, she finds a way into my thoughts. Most of the time it makes me smile. This week, it has made me unbearably sad. Sad to the point that I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to see anyone, I don’t want to hang out, I don’t want to look at Facebook, I want it to be February. I had planned on going to the holiday party thing at work and I had planned to make poppyseed bread. But … I can’t. It’s something I always did with MoC and I just can’t do it. I don’t know why this year is 1,000 times worse than last Christmas. But it is.

And there is a part of me that sits back and observes and wonders … why is it worse? Why don’t I have the energy to do the things that would actually make me feel better? What stops me from making the effort?

I don’t have the answers. And right now, today, at this moment, I could not care less.