I was only a tourist. I left pretty quickly, all things considered.

Life is what you make it.

For some reason, Wordpress is emailing the comments from Gender Reality. (I think it's because I asked to be emailed on another wordpress.org blog, and it remembered that choice.) This tells me my comment was published. The other clue is the invective. :-)

(There was another clue: Madison told me! Thanks, Madison! :-) )

Here's a sampling:

Ad-hominem? Your little brainless rant on your skippy the clown wears panties blog is ad-hominem, rude, insulting and about what I'd expect after reading your writing, that usually involves hatred of some wort. Not my fault you don't have the balls to get rid of your balls like Sandeen did - at least she fessed up to reality in a somewhat dignified manner.

That's from "Harry Heterosexual". From girlgeekcat:

No dear, it is statement of fact that you are not entitled to anything simply by virtue of donning women's clothing and adorning yourself like a cheap hooker. Unlike you we have the balls to deal in reality, and the reality here is when we state that you don't belong in women's space, it's not a criticism of you or an ad hominen repartee - you're simply misguided.

I do wish people would learn the art of the insult! These are quite inane. Beyond their very limited comedic value, they're not worth mentioning. Two people who can't be bothered to attach real names to themselves? Why the hell should I care what they say? And The Stalker had a few words of she assumes is wisdom. Why should I care what a Stalker says? On the other hand, I seem to have hit a nerve over on that self-imposed desert of empathy, compassion and humanity.

You have to be pretty miserable to make comments like that. The various comments, like many others that  have been directed at me, tell me more about the sharp misery of the writer than they might be willing to reveal. The need to be a martyr to the cause figures high on the list of miseries such comments lay bare. Why should I share their martyrdom? Why do I need to share their misery? Why should I buy their gloomy packets of guilt? I won't and I don't!

I like my life. I don't care if He-Man Harry, girlgeekcat, Carmen or The Stalker, or however many miserable fools I've crossed words with, are annoyed about that or not. I don't care if they try to tell the world that they're miserable and they wish I'd buy their guilt, just for a day. While they cackle among themselves I'm getting on with my life, my goals. They can be miserable, or they can strive for their own lives. No one ever promised life was fair or easy. And the grass isn't greener on the other side of that fence - it's hell. The grass is charred and burnt. Woe-is-me is not a life, it's an excuse, an abdication. And that's all these people have. It's why I argue against them - because there's more to life than guilt and misery. They seek to drag people down to their level and get annoyed when I point out that's what they're doing. I've seen the same thing with alcoholics, addicts, born-again Christians, ex-smokers, and so many others. If you're not in the hell they're in - you need to be castigated and cried about. The misery becomes addictive and they die, inside, a little each day. They need their hell, each one of these people. It's what they know, what is familiar. They need you to feel guilty about their lives, they need me to acknowledge they have it tough, with no control over their own lives. And I won't do that. I won't feel guilty about their lives, I won't pretend that they have no control over their own lives. Their own decisions, their own hells.

I've seen their hell. But I was only a tourist there. And if that is what it take to annoy the inhabitants, then I'm glad I can annoy them.

Carolyn Ann