I thought better of it

Last night, at about 2am, I took down the post I wrote yesterday.
Totally censored myownself.

Writing is very therapeutic. And when I posted yesterday? I was in need of some major therapy. The kind where you just lie there and sob into a tissue and the doctor says vague things like "And how did that make you feel?"

Well, let me tell you how reading that post made me feel.

It made me feel like an ass.

Which is good. I was able to see how silly and petty I was feeling (and how silly and petty other people were being) and I was able to read it, shake my head, and dump it into the que. Where it belonged.

No one wants to read a laundry list of someone's woes. Including me.

Plus, my laundry list was very, um........direct. It wasn't just me being bummed, it was me complaining about others. Which is obnoxious/nasty/hurtful/lame and frankly, sort of exactly what I had been complaining about in the post, ironically. It takes so much more energy to be an asshole, It really does. It drags things out, your assholiness gets re-hashed and debated and discussed and pretty soon everyone knows what an asshole you are.

(You know, it would have been hard to keep that a secret anyway - sometimes you can be such an asshole.)

It's sort of the human condition, to just slip every once in a while. To have something you said be misconstrued. To have something you did (or didn't do) hurt someone's feelings - or worse. To have some interactions with others turn sour.

Really sour.

And everyone had bad days.
Weeks.
Months.
Actually, 1995 was not a great year for me. Annus Horribilis, to quote the Queen of England. And she didn't even get divorced that year.
(Plus, she's the fucking Queen. How bad could her shit be?)

Like I said, everyone has bad days. But they don't need to publish the findings.