Hurtie

The world can be divided into two kinds of people: those who can look at images of destruction, however large or small and find aforementioned destruction stimulating or satisfying in some way (people who like those completely retarded action blockbusters) and those of us who can't as much as watch a Mr. Clean commercial in which a child knocks a plate of pasta sauce onto a white carpet. I don't know whether it's my tendency to anthropomorphize objects or the fact that my mind completes the cycle of destruction through a visual narrative of an arduous/irritating cleanup/rebuilding of some sort that makes me so cringey about broken things. Explosion scenes in movies exhaust me. I want to take a nap afterwards. I had to quit my job at CNN after the Shock and Awe campaign. On the rare occasion that I get yelled at, like for reals, I get nosebleeds. I'm not saying this to impress upon you the fact that I am an oversensitive soul, but as a meek insistence that we keep destruction on this planet to a minimum so that those of us who can't handle it can somehow keep it together without having a nervous meltdown.

Unfortunately the forces of nature sometimes have a mind of their own. There were storms in Greenwich over the weekend. My parents told me about the maple in the front yard falling over and landing on the car. I could somehow visualize this, but the pictures completely freaked me out to a point where I just want to curl up and sleep away these images for an hour or two.