i lost it.

 
I don't know where the bursting need to ramble came from but I think it stemmed from the lady who sat down opposite me about half an hour ago.
I was curled up sinking into those massive red chairs reading the Murakami I hadn't read yet (After Dark. Too short. WHY DO PEOPLE WRITE SO MANY SHORT BOOKS THESE DAYS?! Portion sizes at restaurants are getting bigger and books are getting smaller. When I rule the world it will be the other way around. By law. ) and she sat down in her Sass & Bides and started reading Woman's Day. I have nothing against Woman's Day, I spose. And I have lots of respect for those ladies behind S&B after watching that documentary on them AND wearing those jeans at a friend's and being awed by the softness BUT ...something about her made me sick. Actually physically feel sick. I'm the epitome of judgemental. Since when?! I pride myself on being the opposite. What's happening to me?!? She picked up the newspaper on the chair next to her, scanned it (looking for short pieces on creepy couples and dogs that can surf, perhaps? ) then threw it on the floor and went back to reading about Britney's bad boys. So then I was thinking about how on earth I came to be so arrogant about what I let into my head and what I listen to. And the fact is, I definetely take in my fair share of trash. Which led me to thinking about why.
It's not only because I can't escape it and it seeps into my pores every time I turn a corner and face a billboard , there's also choice involved. Trash is deliciously numbing. Isn't that why we're so obsessed with it ? Apparently so.
Which leaves you trying to decide..do I want to be numb, working blindly in hospitality, smiling over counters at business men and discussing the newest MIchael Buble (although a few of his songs are actually fairly pretty...) , numbing the feelings that are so big and odd that they make me physically sick ? Sometimes I do. But then, at moments like just before the lady sat down, where I dissolve into the warm bath of mute thought , I don't know anymore. The sick feeling is less comfortable but at least I know it's me. It scares me how good I am at NOT being me, sometimes. It really does. I hope that happens to other people as well...

I guess a blend is needed. The last time I totally ditched my fraudulent unthinking self I lost 10kgs & a large chunk of sanity. Every now and then numbness is needed for long enough to get on with life, I think.
Although to be fair, sometimes numbness isn't needed, and the sickness and the huge feelings and trains of thought and I all get along fine and I'm me but still functioning. It goes without saying, that those times are the best.

Also, it seems so ..something. To be treating my own garble as important enough to write down. That's not it at all. It's much more a case of if I don't ..I'll explode.