plague journaling

Apparently, my town has canceled another one of the usual summer events--this time, an outdoor concert series. My coworkers are sad about it. Well, one of them is just grumbling about "how stupid" it is to do this, which, mmmmm, hate him anyway, so no news there. But I feel sorry for the ones who are just sad about this. Genuinely. It sucks that they've had both these general events and, for some, specific personal plans disrupted.

I feel very detached from this aspect of it still, even though I too have had events canceled. I'm upset that my club won't be having its show and sale at the end of the month. But that feels oddly...theoretical. Even missing the monthly meetings feel distant, like the change and the disappointment associated with it are happening to someone else. I'm just fundamentally programmed more suitably for these sorts of circumstances. It's always an effort to make myself go to events, even ones I very much enjoy and care about. Anything that's not staying at home and quietly doing my own thing is an effort. So while I can be upset about the idea of not getting to do those things, when it comes down to the day to day experience of that deprivation, I'm...fine.

I feel more sorry for other people who actually need this stuff to be okay. That's rough, buddy.