Angina Irretis (or Interretis?)

Online presence is good, right? You're there, airing opinions, being Someone. Though I must confess seeing how there's no comments, followers, yaddayadda, makes me feel ambivalent.

Then suddenly there's: Train-wrecks! Implosions! and while they are interesting from a voyeuristic viewpoint, the thing I'm seeing hits me with some weird PTS. Because, a long time ago I got into a serious train-wreck. It was emotionally devastating and the worst part was: those idiots were too far away! In a bar I would stomp off in a huff and have them look at my shiny hiney/you can't touch this. I'd pour my beer over their stupid faces, or better yet, steaming hot coffee. Eat this mofos. If necessary I'd kick them in the gonads and give them strife and then some!
But online, you're helpless like that and I don't cope well with helpless. Helpless makes me cry, then the tears make me even more angry and then I cry even harder. Angry snowball of snot and tears. Not pretty.

So back then, I concluded online presence is not good. Don't get me wrong, I met some great people through online life, and funnily, it's hard to stay in touch with them online once they've migrated from an existence as digital blip to real life persons. Also, I have this thing where I have to overcome a great feeling of "bother" to meet up with people in real life. It's not a life-impeding angst or something. Just, *le sigh* such a bother.
Anyways, I want to be a published author, not a columnist. I'm not looking to go out into the street and voice my opinions to strangers. I want to sit at home, with a safe distance between me and the strangers, and write my shit. That's all. Strangers are scary. Unlike people I know, and people I think up, I don't know how they'll react. They're scarily ... strange and alien like that and very exhausting.

I had some point I was going to figure out while I poked at it, about how if you're the center of flame it is more intimate and personal than being paraded through the streets in peck and feathers. It's so in your face, all over your little window into digiworld like a firewall. And the only thing you can do to stop it, is pull the plug, put the computer to sleep. Which is sort of like poking your eyes out because some discussion derailed into the flames of hell, which is kinda overkill.

But I think instead I'm going to finish the Remix Project first draft and do real life stuff, like cleaning and groceries.