There's a book by a Rabbi named Harold Kushman titled When bad things happen to good people.

That I can deal with. It's hard, when they get defensive, when they get so caught up in the good they're trying to do that they forget to see the other folks are trying to do good too. And then bystanders get caught in the initially well-intentioned crossfire.

I can't articulate it very well, but it makes me sad to bursting. And I'm happy to bursting at the same time, because they are good people, and changing the world and all that jazz - and burning smoke and charring gashes across the land they're trying to save. You can't do surgery without the scars. Sometimes they heal.

I am a sucker. I know how much abuse I'm taking and how much I'm giving, and it's freely given; I don't expect anything back from it. It's a gift. Or a gamble, depending on how you look at it. You give, you hope for the best, and sometimes you don't get it, but you chose long ago to be okay with that. (That's why you're an idealistic sucker. Why do you continue to choose to be one?)

Tired, but in a different way than I've been used to being in the past 11 years. Not wrecked; just tired.

I need something to lean against right now. It's 3:30am. A pillow works; I'll go with that.

Despite the tone of this post, it actually has been a pretty good day - a nice walk and lunch with Jeffrey, a gorgeous evening of reading. The reading makes me think.