psychological ramblings

Is it wrong to value art and skill even when it's worst applied?

I heard some guy talking about his fiancee, who had developed post-traumatic stress disorder from being in a, his words here, "physically, sexually and emotionally abusive relationship" previous to her current one. Apparently the previous dude messed her up so bad that she now suffers from nausea, nightmares, anxiety, neuropathic pain, depression, panic attacks, insomnia, emotional detachment and general numbness.

And I thought to myself "Wow, that guy must really know how to get under someone's skin. I mean, hot damn, causing all that must take extraordinary skill. He could be a psychologist."

And then I thought "Um, that wasn't the point to the story at all, also I'm a monster."

It's not like I'm not aware that doing all that to another person was terrible, and it's not like I don't appreciate how monstrous it really was, but on some level I just can't help but be amazed.

So why is this? Shouldn't I be more upset by the evil people cause rather than how well they wielded it? This isn't the first, or the twentieth, time that this sort of analysis has just popped up in my head. It's starting to seriously freak me out.

Anyway, yesterday was relatively boring. Smoked a lot, hung around all night, tried to get started on laundry, failed, got overcome with boredom and despair, realized I'm just substituting my problems rather than accepting them (in that even if I suspend myself from the one website I always waste all my time at, I just found another one to do that at), and went to bed.

Now I'm finishing up the laundry, at least, it'll be done drying in half an hour. So at least that's done. I also have to re-write a story for my journalism class. Whoopee. That's gonna take me...pshh, no time at all.

But, yeah. Whatever.