I like to read. I like to watch assorted crap on Netflix. I like to do puzzles. These are the things I like to do on the evenings and weekends. When I get invited to events, I tend to think, "I'd really rather watch a documentary." Because I'm antisocial like that. And it's just easier to lie in bed instead of getting ready, wondering what small talk you're going to have to make, and going through an agonizing evening of socializing. Maybe it's just me. I'm sure it is just me who would prefer watching movies in bed than, say, go to a Christmas party with an open bar.
Now that you think I have Unabomber tendencies let me make you think I'm even more like the Unabomber.
I got sucked back into the true crime stuff this past weekend. For a while there, I was watching 10-15 hours a week of this stuff. Then I went on a reading blitz that lasted a few days, and then I got bored and wanted to watch some true crime again. Full disclosure: I read something like 7 books in 4 days late last week. Now I'm finishing up the Kevin Smith book. I am loving the Kevin Smith book (since I love Kevin so much), but dang it's long. It's 1,800 ebook pages, which probably translates into about a 900 page book. But I'm pulling through...slowly. In the midst of OD'ing in all things Kevin, I went back to the true crime as a diversion.
I saw the most chilling episode of true crime this weekend. Most of the episode isn't that noteworthy, but the last piece of evidence...wow. Since I've been reading true crime since I was 10, I'm relatively jaded. At least I think so. I've built a high-ish tolerance for gore. Maybe I found it so chilling because I could have related to the victim. Or maybe it was that piece of evidence. It just hit me hard, and I can't stop thinking about it 4 days later.
It makes you really wonder if certain people learn how to be evil or if they are born evil. Is it a combo? I wonder how those types of people think. Or do I?