Head in the Sand

Many of you are starting to bore me. It's not your content per se, but your lack of content. Most of the mainstay blogs that I read aren't publishing a heck of a lot these days. Even worse, very few are commenting on my half-assed efforts to stay afloat in the blogasphere. It's that immediate validation of my work that keeps me motivated to write more, I must confess. This has led me to stray, and explore new avenues. The problem is, I'm an escapist. As an escapist, I avoid bad news to the best of my ability. I scan the headlines for stories that won't send my brain screaming into an abyss of depression, and weed out the ones that will. That's probably irresponsible on some level, but it's how I cope. It's how I keep my spirits high. It's how I manage to be somewhat of a fun parent to my kids. Blindly searching out new blogs does not give me a chance to avoid the terrible stories, as I don't know that I'm embarking on one until I'm already knee-deep in it. The people who post these stories are in their right to do so. I actually believe that it is important to share with others in the same boat who may benefit from knowing that there are people who understand. I believe it is therapeutic for the author's themselves to spill their guts and face their own traumas and experiences. I don't know if I'm suppressing issues deep from within myself, or if I'm just cold hearted, but within ten minutes, I managed to read about rape, domestic violence, and a dead child, and now am either ready to start drinking or seek out a life coach. Is it wrong that I run instead of reflect? I want to be an empathetic person, and I believe that I am on some levels, but I often wonder, for the most part, if I'm just being an asshole.