I did it again.

I was terribly unkind and I can't fix it, but it was three months ago. Three. And now, it's come and bit me in the ass in a most undignified way. I feel terrible, almost victimized, but I created the whole situation myself; from my living room. The majority of my problem social interactions, occur when I am all alone. It is just me and my computer and a hundred or so of my nearest, dearest, cyber-friends. I relish the anonymity. It gives me a cloak of confidence I would never have face to face, where I tend to stutter and use 'um' a lot. It also enables me to feel righteous, self-important, and smarter than most (even though, as I realize now, learning how to write a paragraph in college may not qualify me for those accolades.)

Alone, in my living room, just me and my computer, I can be quite mean.

So here is what I did: Three months ago, I wrote a rude, snarky, letter to the editor of a magazine I hate. It was pretty inappropriate, and cutting in my disdain. The following day I received an email response saying, "Too funny!" That was it. I promptly forgot about the whole letter writing debacle until last week, the editor/publisher, sent me a reply. It was devastatingly weird, but in an unbelievable way. I couldn't stand keeping the letter to myself and irresponsibly sent it on to my internet friends at my favorite foodie blog. The letter was funny. No one was meant to get hurt. I imagined sharing in technological camaraderie with my fellow foodie friends; sitting on our weathered leather chairs, in our oldest jammies, sipping coffee and laughing at some other nameless person's wackiness. Mean-spirited, yes, life changing, no. Unless that is, someone isn't operating with the same jaded sense of incognito the rest of us are wallowing in.

http://foodnetworkhumor.com/2009/09/editor-of-food-magazine-needs-ego-check/#comments

Her heart was on her sleeve and I smashed it. By myself, in my living room, I smashed it. Most people blame the editor of the FOOD magazine. I don't. I blame myself. I stirred the pot and then left the room when I realized the soup was going to boil over. In my nameless bravado, I felt the need to be vindicated and demanded a cyber-reckoning...and got it.