alien she

Out of step/with the wor-rrrrld.

I seriously feel like Unfrozen Cavewoman these days, or maybe some not-so-senile old bat who has been cooped up in her house since the sixties. The old grey mare, she ain’t what she used to be. Culture baffles me. (Or maybe it’s just too easy to understand? At any rate, I don’t relate to much of it.)

I don’t feel like I’ve stopped relating to the important people in my life, or being able to empathize/identify with folks in general, but the social organization thereof?

I suppose this is what comes from doing my own thing, playing by my own rules. I haven’t ever achieved this level of just-not-giving-a-fuck-about-things-that-aren’t-important-to-me before, so I’m chronicling this phenomenon for my own good. It isn’t bad at all – in fact, I see it as a pretty positive change. If there is objectivity, I appear to have achieved it at least for use as a tool in certain situations (as per Book Club discussion last week).

Of course, of course, situations and perspectives change constantly, and I may find myself back in the thick of things soon enough. Still, this is an interesting – and different – vantage point I have right now – good for writing.