Just stupid venting

Sometimes, the world seems really ridiculous. Sometimes I read stuff that feels like sticking my nose in an old tire and getting bit by a giant, deadly Australian Brown snake (Like goddamn Steve Austin might do, not Steve Irwin who would do something much cooler and less stupid).

Or maybe it feels more like watching Tenchi in Tokyo after Tenchi Universe--it's the same characters but the plot's all different and not at all like I remembered it. And I get this angry, confused sort of feeling that boils hot in my stomach.

Sometimes, I get really angry about what I read, and I want to go nuts and flame people. I want to yell at them about how wrong they are. But I don't. In my sometimes-burning gut I know that doesn't do any good. I'm not above that, but I try to be.

So every day I tap away on the keyboard, and I stick my head in hornet nests and snake pits and other dens of iniquity and cliche across the internet, and I think to myself: This is all craziness. I'm glad I'm only reading about it, and not living it.

Then I read Alice's wonderful entry on the value of arts in the school programs. . . and I am refueled.

God bless the internet. At some point I need to support my non-local Sam and call him. Night-O!