The Sad and the Shallow

*sigh*

Actually doing surprisingly well this week, all things considered. Spending real quality time with friends, painting my nails three times (I'd actually cut way back on that and was only painting them once a week or so but I binged this weekend.) And writing, or at least trying to write. I need to get back in the habit of going to Starbucks or Panera after work to write, I think.

Anyway, I've been good.

But facebook is really sad for me tonight. Nathan's "sister" has a friend who passed away today, and a friend from high school (really she was my sister's friend first but we had choir together and so I would say that she was my friend, too) has a baby who developed some sort of mysterious neuro-degenerative disease and they are going to be taking him off machines tomorrow.

And my heart is broken. I have so much empathy and compassion for just how hard things are for both sets of family and friends who are struggling to cope with and understand this incredible pain of loss.

Before I read any of that, though, I posted a new profile pic. Just cause I was bored of my old one and wanted a pic with my yellow shirt and my "cat eye" makeup.

And it makes me feel so sad and shallow. I mean I don't think I am actually shallow... and I know that beauty routines are a coping mechanism of mine, and I know that my nail stuff is actually very deeply related to Nathan, but I sometimes still look at it from an outsider perspective-- especially someone who's got something *real* going on, like dealing with death-come-too-soon and I just shake my head.

It's so hard. It's so hard what they are dealing with... And here I am, being excited about a color and some makeup, waiting for my nails to dry. And I feel like "that girl." The oblivious insensitive one who doesn't get it and has obviously never had any "real" life experiences.

But I'm not oblivious though I'm sure I'm insensitive at times but I do get it and I've had some doozies of experiences... and for me it's so nice to get lost in something that I know doesn't matter. That no one really cares about. I find so much freedom in frivolity. I don't know why, but shallow silliness is so soothing for me.

But then again, I might be crazy.

For instance I'm thinking about going to a documentary being shown on campus tomorrow evening about cancer patients and their caregivers and their care providers. Yeah that's right, this is something I choose to do on the eve of the second anniversary of my husband's death from cancer. Wtf, mate. And yet, I think I might, I really think I might. I *want* to see it. I'm really interested in what it has to say. I'm also just the slightest bit afraid of it.

We'll see how brave I turn out to be, I guess.