Apologia Pro Dementia Sua

Like everything else in the Fussy orbit, I've been looking at Julia Sweeney's blog. Unlike everything else, I'm commenting there. I'm addicted to these little running battles -- I square off against some over-generalizing know-it-all with some very careful statement and then break them down when they inevitably reply to what they _think_ I said. It's about as interesting as playing chess up a queen. I tell myself I'm just putting my opinions out there, but come on -- how convincing is it to bore people to tears no matter how right you are? There has to be a better source of stimulation.

It doesn't help that I find this the dullest and most anxious time of the year. I feel like I'd do anything to stir up a little activity and distraction. A little intellectual bullfighting is just the thing, and on the internet you don't have to deal with the people you've pissed off. Maybe I should try cocaine, at least it might be less antisocial.

Anyhow, for whoever might see this, I really do regret being so confused as to waste everyone's time with such idiocy, and I'm trying to do better. I wish I would just stop, but if you don't know the sources of your tics you can't find better ways to satisfy them and they eventually lead you right back to where you started. The trick, I'm hoping, is to outgrow my failings rather than stifle them.

In the meantime, I'm sorry.