Fairness.

I know, I know, I know. I know deep down and intimately that life is not fair. That there is no guarantee of reward for hard work, and that despite what my mother tried to teach us, there is nothing that guarantees consequences for irresponsible actions. I've known this for a long time, and I was slapped around by it when Gabe died and yet I still find myself clinging to the idea that the universe is an essentially fair place.

It's bullshit.

The universe is not fair, it's random. It's not caring or punishing or judging or loving. It simply is. In all its wonder and mystery and beauty and fragility. There is no fair.

I was reminded today, again, when my friend sent a frantic email asking for thoughts and prayers for her friend (whom I do not know). It's not my place to lay out their story, but I can tell you it ended in utter tragedy of the most senseless and least comprehensible kind. The kind that makes me cling to my husband and weep with gratitude that though we've lost our son, we have each other, and the chance to hold him and love him for a few hours.

It makes me angry, though I don't know why. A lingering belief that there is a consciousness behind the universe, a god that could stop it all and prevent senseless tragedy if he or she only would do, maybe. Anger at the utter impotence and powerlessness to be of any use to these people I don't know or to my friend. I can't even offer to watch her baby while she helps them - we're separated by multiple states.

Maybe it's hormones; the spotting is really bleeding and has turned red. I am weepy without being able to pinpoint why. I dreamed last night I was stabbed over and over and left for dead - the vivid sort of dream I rarely have any longer (to be fair, the other really vivid part was a long interview about Oliver Phelps curly-haired girlfriend Jessika and how much he loves her - I remember that very well, being befuddled by it in the dream as I watched the interview).

I don't know. I am restless tonight, having trouble settling to any task. I want to write - the words are hovering at my fingertips, but they are brittle and hard. Maybe this is the right time to write a brittle piece, but I can't bend my mind to it. I could work; God knows that today was less than productive - lots of meetings and talking. I'm sick of it, just need to wait to see what will be next. Speculating does me no favors.

Today the song that attracts me Fade Away by Oasis. The Warchild version or Noel Gallagher's live version. I can't decide whether I feel uplifted by it or depressed. The tune is catchy enough, the words go either way:

When I was young
I thought I had my own key
I knew exactly what I wanted to be
Now I'm sure
You've boarded up every door

Lived in a bubble
Days were never ending
Was not concerned
About what life was sending
Fantasy was real
Now I know much
About the way I feel

I'll paint you the picture
'Cause I don't think you live round here no more
I've never even seen
The key to the door
We only get what we will settle for

While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away, away, away
They fade away, away, away

Now my life has turned
Another corner
I think it's only best
That I should warn you
Dream it while you can
Maybe someday
I'll make you understand

I'll paint you the picture
'Cause I don't think you live round here no more
I've never even seen
The key to the door
We only get what we will settle for

While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away, away, away
They fade away, away, away
They fade away, away, away
Fade away, away, away

I don't know. I just . . . don't know. Not a good night, I guess.

Why should I expect fairness at this point? I don't understand it, but there is this instinctive reaction to revert to deservedness and worth and none of it matters. Even if there was some sort of cosmic meritocracy, what makes anyone more or less deserving of tragedy? I could say why me, why me, why me - but as others have pointed out - why not me? Why not these people? Or why anyone?

I'm not drinking - though it sounds bloody fucking marvelous as an idea - and certainly I can't continue this train of thought without a few drinks. Not that I'll reach a conclusion at that point, but maybe it would make more sense then.

I wish . . . I dunno. That bad things didn't happen to people? How juvenile. That bad things only happened to bad people? Even worse. That senseless tragedy didn't occur? Bah. Without it, we would never appreciate the moments of beauty. I wish it didn't hurt so much, I guess, which is equally infantile. I wish I could still believe that maybe there was some greater meaning. It would be a lot more comfortable than this current state.

It's just . . . unfair. I cannot conceive of another word. The whole thing is unfathomable.