This time next week I'll be on my way to Washington DC. Until then, I'm here working on staying awake. I spent about four hours in West TN yesterday, mostly talking to the wonderful, hardworking folks who've decided that while their credit ain't perfect, they're real sure that the bank loan officers will see their way clear to loan 'em enough money to pay for the house in about a year and a half, seein' as how they'll have put about $3000 down in earnest money, and seein' as how the askin' price is pret' near twenty grand less than what it ort-ta appraise for...I'll be alright in a day or two, once I finish a couple of crosswords without consulting the dictionary, and maybe read another chapter or two of Blood and Gold....
I've never been good with expressing emotions. I always felt that emotions were a sign of weakness - part of being raised as my father's "son", I suppose. Lately I'm having a hard time bottling up those things that bubble up when people start flinging arrows and stones. Some I deserve. Others, less so. Innocent comments get taken out of context and used to further some cause. I make a genuine post about an overwhelming feeling I have, and someone turns it into an accusation, based on some sort of internet statistic that proves I've posted in response to something else. Frankly, I don't see the connection. I get angry more often than I used to, but I often feel like I've been kicked in the gut too. I'm not accustomed to that one. It usually brings tears. Intended kindnesses are perceived as attempts to control. And this post will be labeled as an attempt to send someone on a guilt trip - but hey - if the shoe fits, baby, wear it out.
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