Maybe, another good thing about blogging is that it

may prove to be therapeutic; may help me to get in touch with myself. What's the psychological name for what I am experiencing? An episode? And would the term be, disassociating?
I know, ND losing a couple of close games in the last minutes may have something to do with me feeling dislodged. But selling corned beef sandwiches at Irish Fest last week end, roasted corn on the cob at Heritage fest this past week end, and tootsie rolls to people a couple mornings in between? Why am I doing things I never did before?
I've stopped going to Huffington Post, because they post provocative captions that elicit all kinds of moronic responses, and the provocations and the morons both annoy me, and I generally sense that the commentors might not have read the articlein the first place. I can't even go to Facebook without remembering the simile of the internet as the drunken librarian who won't shut up. But TV is even more disturbing. The five o'clock local news is the closest thing to a real news show on all 100 24 hour stations, and even they tend to sensationalize. The dramas are even worse, contrived and implausible story lines, devoid on meaningful dialogue, but long on featured actors and actresses striking their favorite cold blue steel poses for minutes of each show. Also, what's with these full color renderings of what bullets, blades, and blunt objects do to a victims vulnerable anatomy. How cold and callused do they wish us to become? And don't get me started on flash backs and flash forwards. The Office is my last refuge.
I can't afford to try to discuss the economy or the political environment except to say I'm a lttle worried for all of us. Personally, life is a somewhat out of kilter as well. We may be moving next month because our landlord stopped paying the mortgage last year, and the sheriff is scheduled to auction our building off. Not unreasonably, the landlord also stopped paying the utilities a couple of months ago, and we got a warning from the city that they're going to shut off the water the day after tomorrow. I went to our downstairs neighbor to propose we go halvsies on the arrears to keep the water flowing another month, and she, matter of factly, informed me that her son took a call from the gas company last week and that they said they were going to shut off the gas. WTF, people?
Maybe, it's just me, rapidly approaching my 65th birthday...no, it's more than that, but age may have something to do with it. Tonight I saw an ad for an apple NANO, or something like that, and I didn't know what it did, and they didn't tell me. They didn't tell me anything, but there was a song, something about wanting a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket.
I'm going to retire for the evening with my newly arrived edition of the Atlantic, (Thanks, Kim). And I do feel a little better.

PS I omitted reference to the constancy of God, and our security in Him, because i didn't want to obscure that reality with my disoriented perspective. After mass on Sunday, though, I saw a bird nesting on top of the cross on top of the steeple, and in my mind wanted to compare notes with him on why we were each there, looking for some awareness shared that would reassure me.