So, this is how I am

Last night, while I was having my nails done, I felt the stirrings of an earthquake (the salon was at the third floor of the mall, so, ok, yeah, maybe it was really more than a stirring). The so-called "Super Moon" has come and gone (yes?) and I never got around to so much as a peek. And the earthquake in Japan, tsk. I've mostly kept mum about these, and more, perhaps that have gone past my nose without my knowing.

Sometimes, even I am appalled by my capacity to shrug things off (the getting appalled episode happening during my more lucid moments, if I may add). The yawn, the almost-empty stare, the absent smile, the mechanical nod: these are characteristic of me, even in times of crisis, or those occasional bumpings-into with the distraught acquaintance, or the emotional peer. 

(Though let me insert here that I, too, am perfectly capable of jumping up and down and shouting to the top of my lungs when I win bets (like the most recent one, on whether it was Lennon or McCartney who wrote "Eleanor Rigby"), that my eyes do sparkle and shine when I am in a conversation where books and music are fodder, and that tears stream down my cheeks when I watch movies that strike to the core of my ideals and beliefs.)

It makes me sad, when I think about it. Is it disinterest? Selfishness? In/voluntary detachment? Or is it that parallelism to my other sphere, that predisposition toward despair, that ease in falling prey to breakdowns, that faculty of feeling too much--and hurting too much--where I should flick things off and accept them as part of life and, therefore, something that I will soon get through?

All in all, it could be that search for balance, the desire for that ever so delicate sense of equilibrium that I know I have so little of; bluntly put, it could simply be that instinct for survival.