Subdued.

It's uncharacteristically rainy here today, which is just fine for a day that marks the funerals of four innocent children. I don't usually get worked up over stories like this, but I found myself crying while I was watching TV two days ago when this story broke. The last time I cried about something on the news was September 1, 2005...watching people scream for help in New Orleans.

I'm not an overly emotional person. I used to be, but I am not anymore. I don't cry at the drop of a hat. These days, it takes a lot for me to break down. A LOT. Maybe that's a sorry side-effect of living in one of the meanest towns in America. Maybe it's a sign of strength, or a sign that I'm horribly jaded. I am not sure which. Perhaps being jaded is a strength so you can help other people in their time of need without having an old-fashioned come-apart.

I know that something inside of me still works correctly, though, because I know that these horrible stories were worth a few tears. At least I'm not a robot. I'm not completely dead inside. Living here hasn't totally hardened my heart; there is still some part of me that responds normally, thank god. Even though media coverage can sometimes be silly or over-the-top, these stories are still, at their core, about how hard it is to be a human being sometimes. And I can totally relate.