2001-04-12 - 4:57 p.m.

It's All About Me

I've been reading Fatal-error's diary lately. Parts of her story remind me of parts of mine, but never enough for me to actually say, "Hey, that happened to me too!" Between that, and a couple of other incidents that have happened this year, I'm starting to wonder whether I actually possess the faculty of empathy as other people understand it.

When I first heard about Mer's Dad, I wrote up an email message about it, trying to show my support and let her know that I cared and stuff. As I re-read it before sending it, I realized that the entire second half had absolutely nothing to do with Mer. So I re-wrote it. It happened again. Oops. I kept writing about me instead of Mer, because the only way I could figure out what might be appropriate to say was to figure out how I'd feel if it happened to me. But I wouldn't feel at all like Mer feels, so that concept failed in execution. I eventually just scrubbed it and made general noises of concern.

Then I spent an hour last night browsing web sites trying to think of something I could do to show concern, just like I did when Nev went missing and I was trying to think of a way to cheer Julie up. In both cases it took me far longer than it should have to remember that the story was not about me, these woman actually rock quite thoroughly, and it doesn't require the force of my divine credit card for them to deal with their problems.

Sigh. At least I'll still be in good practice if something ever *does* happen that would require me to perform an intervention. Which it won't, because I don't have the sort of friends for whom one is likely to have to intervene. I like people who can take care of themselves. So why do I constantly try to take care of them? Call it brain damage.

On another note, I noticed what I think must be a weird statistical anomaly. The last three woman I've been romantically involved in all have issues with their biological father. Do the qualities I like in a woman somehow select for problems with their parents? Does that make me ooogy?

Sometimes life is all one big mystery to me.

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