It figures...

There have been MANY times when I wanted/decided to start posting here, but procrastinated (because that's what I do). Today is different, simply because I feel too fucking stupid to post this on the one message board I participate in, as this is not at ALL on-topic for that board and a topic I don't want to get into there.

I have no sense of proportion. On a small scale or on a large scale. Time, size, distance, importance - my perception of *all* of these things is beyond skewed. Not that there are any universal guidelines, but my judgement doesn't tend to yield the same conclusions that most other people I know arrive at.

So here it is:

I took the trash out earlier, and a moth got into the house when I came back in. I tried to catch it for a while to put it back outside, but it eluded me and eventually ended up on the ceiling, where it's still hanging out now. I've always loved insects so I'm not by any means objective, but I don't want to leave it there, knowing that if it starts flying around again my cats will kill it. Never mind that from a pragmatic perspective (a) there are plenty more out there, (b) there's no guarantee that it wouldn't die the moment I put it outside from some other cause, and (c) it will die in a few days anyway. My brain screams these things to me, but my heart and soul refuse to allow me to accept either as an excuse to NOT save it. I'm not quite to the point of busting out my ladder and a glass to get it down, but if it doesn't move before I get tired, I'm sure that will happen.

I feel incredibly dippy for feeling this way, while at the same time incredulous that there are so few other people who feel the same. It's a delicate, fragile, vulnerable living being who I cannot begin to understand, let alone condemn to a torturous death at the hands/paws of my predator friends. I kill wasps (I'm increasingly allergic) and mosquitoes (West Nile + pets). I own some leather accessories. I eat meat and beat myself up every day over it. The right-to-lifers who carry picket signs AND antibacterial hand gel from Bath & Body Works make me simultaneously want to laugh and cry. But in essence, I'm one of them. I am a hypocrite. I'm an awful mix of painful introspection and self-destruction, so I do all manner of things that I believe are wrong and then punish myself for. I can explain away the food things as part-and-parcel of my eating disorder, and I've already rationalized the few genus/species of insects I choose to kill. The rest I have nothing to say about, except that I'm incapable of governing myself and establishing moral guidelines I can adhere to.

There is chicken in my fridge, and a moth on my ceiling.