Death Of A TechnoDyke

So there's this little place I found ages ago. You know, when I was still internet stupid. Called TechnoDyke. I fell right in. Loved it. And, coming into the end of my five year relationship, it was a welcome diversion. Not to mention a spark to the dying flame of my wit and conversational prowess.

The wee message board that could.

I feel like a complete waste saying it, but the place really had an amazing affect on me. Having lived with a girl for far too long who didn't converse, or wouldn't, and didn't really seem to "like" me much (whyever did she pick me, I will never know), the place just came along at the right time. As things in my universe so often do.

As boards are wont to be, the place was/is cyclical. People came and went. Some stayed the course. Every now and then, we'd go through a period of tearing each other apart. No one knew why. There would just all of a sudden be this undercurrent of volatility.

Earlier this month, the admin "grounded" us for three days. Said she'd grown weary of the grief.

The problem was that, somehow, the fucking letter she posted in place of the board totally triggered my nearly latent psychosis. I am almost never triggered. I like to think that I am made of stronger stuff than that. But there I was. Feeling eight. Feeling like my fucking mother had ripped me apart.

And so, this little technodyke is still angry.



Jeeze. People really read this stuff? I don't know that I'm all sold on blogging. But you just wait till my head goes all loose again. Boy. I'm all kinds of verbose when the madness comes. You'll just love that.

(Incidently, spell check doesn't like fucking, either. Phtt. Fuck spell check.)