As you can see by the title, I am pursuing a brand new era in vagueness.

According to this article, something interesting is happening in the world of Scrabble.

No, not that a boy was caught cheating – he was palming blank tiles, which apparently explained a previous suspiciously strong performance – but that the media has blown the whole thing out of perspective, and presumably made this poor kid’s life miserable while also pissing off the Scrabble set.

Because it is not like the media treats Scrabble seriously. So the news angle is all “Aww look, something interesting happened in boring old lame Scrabble. ” That is not making anyone happy.

I can only imagine that people in the serious Scrabble community feel rather like those of us in the Furry community whenever the media spotlight shines our way. In theory, in a perfect world, it would be a good thing that spreads happy news about your oddball little subculture.

But in this imperfect world, the real world, all it does is invite snide mockery from media asshats and peanut gallery hooting and hollering from the unwashed and ignorant masses, and you really wish these media cretins has just left you and your happy little group alone.

So my sympathies go out to the world of competitive Scrabble today. And do not worry, this too shall pass. It seems almost unendurable now, but not too long from now, it will just be an old scar that still hurts if you prod at it, but otherwise has faded from your mind.

Myself, I love Scrabble. Great game for a word nerd like me. I am not that good at it, because I do not really think strategically enough for a complex multi-axis game like that. So I am good at the finding and forming words part, but serious players kick my ass because they know how to block strategic areas and think three moves ahead and all that.

I am going to be going to a barbeque at the home of my roomie Joe’s parents this evening. I am looking forward to it, while acknowledging the thick stew of social anxiety and trepidation bubbling in the back burner of my mind.

I have tried to just push all social anxiety from my mind and approach these situations as though I am a normal person looking forward to a standard social gathering, but that has a tendency to backfire on me. Sooner or later, that unwatched pot boils over, and when it does, I am in a far worse situation because it is completely overwhelming and I end up having to flee in one way or another.

Bathrooms. We social anxiety type love bathrooms. We can hide there until the panic subsides.

So instead of trying to ignore the pot and pretend it is not there, I will simply accept that I am going to have to keep an eye on it all night, and stir it and cool it and care for it carefully so that it stays at that nice easy to handle low simmer and does not blow up in my face.

But hey. Blowups happen. I might have one anyhow. And I will just have to deal with it.

Sometimes I wish I could somehow just destroy that part of my brain, the part that cannot relax in social situations and continues to accumulate panic the longer I am in them. The part that makes me feel like I am constantly on the edge of social disaster, that I am surely about to say something stupid or rude or excessively blunt and/or incisive and the only solution is to flee, flee, flee back into the forest and find myself a deep dark cool hole to hide in until I can breathe again.

And the thing is, it is always there. Even right now, when I am alone in the apartment, in my room, in front of my computer, at the maximum comfort level currently available to me in this world, I can feel the social anxiety fulminating in the background of my psyche, ready to slap a vise around my heart and pour high test anxiety toxins into my bloodstream and set my head pouncing and making me feel like a hunted animal two seconds away from death at the jaws of a predator.

I think that is a lot of what “informs” my depression. The anxiety pushes me into this tight tiny corner of life, trapping me in a cage that has no locks, no doors, no bars even. Just a relentless wind that blows on me constantly and chills me to the bone, and inevitably pushes me into the deepest hole just to get away from the wind as much as I possibly can.

Even when I am just hanging out with my friends, whom I love, sitting on my own little couch and watching videos and chatting and laughing and having a great time, the happiest moments in my so-called life right now, there is a part of me that wants to run away, flee to my bedroom and turn the light out and lay down and wait until the anxiety goes away.

I don’t do that, thank goodness. The urge is fairly low in comfortable, familiar surroundings with people I know and trust, and who know and understand me.

They know exactly what kind of weirdo I am, more or less, and they still like me. And really, what more can you ask for in friends?

But still, a number of times in an evening, I will feel a stab of desire to flee, or a longing to be at my computer where I control the stimulation level and type at all times.

But all this said, I am making progress. The wind grows weaker every day, or perhaps I am merely growing a thicker pelt. I can better imagine walking into social situations with some degree of confidence now.

And hey, I am going to a BBQ. And you know what that means?

Free food! And drink.

Hey, whatever motivates you, right?