paraxeni: (turtle)
[personal profile] paraxeni
It's not a week yet since Derrick Bird drove around Cumbria killing and maiming people.  I watched last night's edition of Panorama pretty much blankly, until the reporter asked victims and neighbours alike what they thought of Derrick.  And then I cried.  To hear "People will look back and say he was an evil monster... but he was a good man, I can't see him any other way.." from a woman who attended a dying victim, and "He was a good bloke, he just was and I'll remember that" from, a friend of his who he shot in the face at point-blank range, is deeply humbling.  The tears came from sadness, and from the belief that humanity contains far more good than we give it credit for.

 It seems that this was a man scared of losing money, fretting over existing debts, and driving himself (literally) mad with fear that a tax investigation would result in a jail sentence.  The terrible collision of an economy in crisis, existing financial issues, and paranoia about being put under the spotlight seems to have pushed him over the edge.  Who hasn't experienced it?  I know I have, but I've been lucky to have always had someone to talk me round, convince me that I'd always be better off alive in this world.  I'm sorry that he didn't.

 Enough of DB.  I've been reading, and reading, and reading.  All my beloved 'chewing gum for the eyes'  US tv is over for summer, and Big Brother is about to start here.  Wretched bloody thing.  So it's the job of Sheldon, my ebook reader to entertain me.  I've read The Book Thief by Markus Zusak which was just breathtaking.  All my life I've been told that the protagonists, ordinary Germans, were evil, and despicable but in reality?  They had no more say in going to war than anyone else.  They were killed, bombed out, evacuated, hungry   If references to Hitler were taken out, and the names anglicised, it could've been happening right here.  I woke Lisa up with my grief-stricken sobbing.  She was alarmed and sleepy, saw the purple book cover and said "Oh, book tears?" and rolled back over.

  I then wiped my brain with the literary equivalent of an episode of Law and Order, a Jodi Picoult book.  I know, I'm sorry.  I paid penance by reading a book called 'Symptoms of Unknown Origin', proper factual stuff.

I'm now on The Poisonwood Bible.  Bloody hell but that's one absorbing book.  I wondered if I was sympathising with the characters when I started to feel faint and sick, until I realised that I hadn't so much as swigged any Pepsi, never mind eaten, since yesterday.  Whoops!

  Oh and please cross fingers that I can actually get a doctor's appt. next week to ask to get my Mirena swapped over, and that they won't say "You're too early", even though they know I'm not using it as contraception.  I've got endometrial deposits in my appendix for fuck's sake, and I'm not prepared to wait till my five years is up.  I know it's only 7/8 months but that's a long time to shit blood in anyone's book.  Just let it not be Dr C, who confused endometriosis with emphysema last time, and offered me a new "puffy thing" (inhaler).

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June 2010

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