Some peoples' needs aren't being met. This is a social problem that has existed as long as people have existed. It is a reality that we must face if we are to have any aspirations of being compassionate beings.

However, I'm not okay with the concept that we should identify some groups as being OK to care about and other groups as "no, you had your turn, so we won't allow ourselves to respond to your suffering anymore." The idea that you must qualify for or earn compassion is backwards. That's not compassion at all. That's politics.

Maybe, just maybe, the solution to problems caused by labeling is not more labeling. Just a thought.

Rules are almost always arbitrary and their merit occurs largely from convincing people to follow them so that we know what to reasonably expect. When you say "screw the rules," chaos follows. That's how rules work in general. There is no further justification, nor does there need to be - unless your mind happens to be caught up in the idea that everything needs to be justified to satisfy you personally.

Everything else - the merits of X or Y particular set of rules - is just window dressing. When you get caught up in that you are missing the point.

The reward for being a decent human being is more opportunities to be a decent human being - AKA, hardship.

People are mean on the Internet.

We can go into the psychology of it - they don't see other people as people, they don't grasp that teamwork means taking your teammates' weaknesses into account, and so on - but basically it boils down to the fact that some people are callous, unsympathetic, etc. to people they've never met in person.

This is a fact that extends beyond online gaming or even being online. It is an artifact of how our brains are wired ("Help the tribe first, above strangers") which, while helpful thousands of years ago, is maladaptive now.

What I'm getting at is - this is a problem that a single gaming community can never truly fix, because it is endemic in man. Man's inhumanity to man has been the subject of plays, books, poetry, etc. for thousands of years. Admins can ban those who display a magnificent lack of empathy, but in the foreseeable future, there will always be those people. It sucks, but you have to learn to not let them get to you.

Today I decided to delete some people from my twitter feed.

They weren't unintelligent. They weren't inarticulate. They were wasting my time.

Some dudes continually hold forth on twitter about how "unnatural" capitalism is, as though just because it doesn't occur to them that profit might be important, it won't have occurred to anyone else.

Now, I have a lot of sympathy for them - I had the "money is unimportant" mindset found in most of academia until the real world kicked me in the pants and I realized it is awfully unhealthy to think that way. But the way to make a difference in this world is to first take a realistic look at what you can and can't change overnight. You aren't going to get the world to switch over from capitalism instantly, and anyone who says otherwise is delusional. So if what corporations are doing concerns you, climb the ladder to where you can make a difference: be a 10% stakeholder and veto bad policies, or be a corporate speaker and inspire leaders to make ethical decisions. Or be a legislator and push for new environmental restrictions, if that's the aspect of things you're concerned with.

Do something that interacts with reality. Don't sit around and say "This is corrupt, that is corrupt, I can't do anything, I reject the whole system." Then you're really only making excuses for your own inaction.

So I'm a bit mystified by people who hate suburbia. It always seems as though a place should be loved or hated for its actual features, rather than the postmodern/hipster deconstruction of illusions that people have about it. I mean, people love Denver for the skiing and the snow. They hate the Arizona desert for its dryness and heat.

What physical features of suburbia qualify it for one's unbending wrath? Strip malls?

You forgot the part of yourself that wouldn't forget me.

She says she doesn't know what love is, but she doesn't want to let go of me. She wanted me to tell her that no matter what, even if it didn't work out, we would always talk frequently.

Today, I was mistaken for someone's husband.

Footsteps sparkled in the sun, impressions in the soft wet sand filled by spray from the roaring surf.

He bent knee as a salty breeze pulled gently at a few wild strands of hair. The red plastic cup was battered but bright in his fingers, and he dipped it into the rising tide.

Triumphantly, he held aloft his glittering prize, marveling at the play of light on water. "There is nothing I do not control," he whispered.

His words were lost in a dull roar. Behind him, the sea continued to swell, unabated.