bleh
I'm having one of those days when the world seems like a very harsh place and I'm just trying to duck out of its way so I can get on with my small, unimportant life. Avoid eye contact. If I can't see it, it can't see me either.

I've been working on the stuff about the trials for the two sniper suspects for so long that it's basically unreal to me -- a story, a page full of words, a loose bunch of details that need to be spelled correctly and posted quickly. An abstraction. Then this kind of testimony crops up and I remember that it's too real, unbearably sad, horrifying.

I know that losing perspective is a defense mechanism, and that it lets you think on a different plane so that you can operate objectively and make dark jokes about terrible things. I know a lot of journalists have to do it to stay sane. But the horrible jolt you get when you come back to earth and remember what you're really talking about might not be worth it. I feel awful. Too callous and too sensitive, too everything.