09/23/2003 - 9:54 a.m. | monkey ninjas, attack!

Ever think there might be such a thing as too much empathy? I'm leaning towards that notion. Empathy to point of self-righteousness. Empathy to the point where it seems like you're treating people like an asshole when the whole time you're buried under this pile of caring? You've got yourself convinced, absolutely 100% convinced that everyone would be so much better off without you (if they noticed you were lacking at all, that is), that it would make everyone's lives so much easier and happier if you would just sort of back out of things, so much so that you just decide to cut yourself off from everything and everyone. Of course you have to be curt. They need to fucking stay away from you because you're nothing but trouble. It's getting to the point where I just want to up and flee at most social intersections. And yet - YET - the longing for connection. How funny and confusing.

You know those little paranoid twinges you get pretty much all the time? OK, you probably don't. But, when one does come true, it's not very reassuring. For instance, I am doing laundry today, and as I was loading the quarters into the little slot (having already dumped laundry and soap in), I thought, "Wouldn't it be awful if the quarters wouldn't go in and the machine stuck?" Somebody up there likes me. I don't look exactly sane perched on my chair with my tight ass "Mama Mia" t-shirt, stupid khaki shorts, and backwards hat. I don't look exactly right.

I just floated through yesterday afternoon. I'm starting to note whenever somebody says hi to me because it is at least a little kink in my normality. Read in stats, Angela Biagi commented on my hair, read at work (additionally tried to learn to pick locks with bobbypins... failed), one girl said hello and goodbye, another guy talked to me about Dave Eggers and how he came here over the summer, rode home, escaped, took longest bike ride yet (past Orchard Downs and back around), late night ISR, collapsed on Spritz's floor. I just feel... a little off. To put it mildly. Like, if I were a sprinkler, I'd be spraying sort of haphazardly, my flow alternating between huge and tiny, shooting off in random direction. And I've just got to figure out who's stepping on my hose. Although I have a fairly good idea. But - BUT - I'm never gonna get better if I lurk about. I've got to start, I dunno, break dancing for justice. What the hell are you talking about??

Whoa. So not ready for this.