And then there come days like today where I'm reminded not so much about how easily tragedy can strike, or how danger may well be breathing the same air as you or me pretty much any time of day or night, or how one person with enough motive and firepower can do so very much damage that will reverberate through the hearts of thousands for years to come, for while those are indeed things that occur to me, what I find myself thinking about the most on days like today, days that don't even require a link to the story of what I'm talking about because it's all over the news, is the place of tragedy in this human experience of ours. Its place, of course, is that of a constant figure. Tragedy is at work around the clock, wreaking havoc on one life or another, or 31 lives, or 65, or however the hell many may have died in the latest bombing or shooting or mining accident or plane crash. Or the ones that didn't make the news. Or the ones that went quietly. Or alone.
I'm being a depressing son of a bitch tonight. You can stop reading if you want. No worries.
I ran over a squirrel today. That's about the extent of my personal experience with tragedy so far this week. I'm hoping it stays that way. Damn you squirrel. You had a truck bearing down on you in the other lane, and you could've just run into the Starbuck's parking lot, but you had to run in front of me when I had no time to take evasive action.
I feel like an ass even trying to be funny. Hell, even blogging seems inappropriate. But like I said, this tragedy thing, death and destruction, be it senseless or halfway explicable, it's with us every day. What makes today different, I suppose, is the scope of it. It can feel crippling. There's always those who are leaving us, leaving behind others asking why. A lot of people are asking why tonight, and will be for years to come. My thoughts and my prayers are with them, for what they're worth.