In the name of Science?

It's been some time since I've blogged. Simply because I have no motivation too. I love blogging, but I don't see the point of forced spontaneity.

I should get this off my chest.

It was a huge mistake for me to have put details of my Youtube flamer study up here. The whole damn world can see it, what was I thinking? Right now all that's left for me is to take it as a lesson and, like Jeremy who brought us the Yishun MRT suicide video (taken down in consideration of the victim's family), think twice before putting ANYTHING on the Net. Anything at all. It's so ironic that just the other day I was so enthusiastically telling my mom how once stuff is on the Net it can never be fully taken off, or else near impossible to do so.

That however is not quite my primary concern. My concern is what this study is doing to me personally. Again, I didn't have the prudence to set up seperate accounts for this study, and blindly used my personal Blogger and Youtube accounts to execute my plans. The problem is when the flame exchange turns personal, as it almost inevitably will - mother father sister's vagina - you know, the whole lot. I'm not some SM freak who likes to tell the world my weaknesses and let them throw eggs at me and mock me, but fact - I AM emotionally weak. That's the simple truth, and yet such a powerful weakness. I used to be not much harder than water last time. I'm better now. But it's still a major weakness.

Obviously, if I'm let's say smart enough to have ideas of conducting a study, or at least an amateur emulation of an academic study, I can distinguish for myself the boundaries of my split personalities. Mr Hyde is only activated (to the best of my ability anyway) when I'm composing a counterflame. I can clearly feel the difference, the dark thrill when I'm constructing the hardest insults, and the composed scientific musings when I'm looking through and analysing the records of my exchange with the flamer I've targeted. Some words, however, do a damn good job of flipping my switch. And guess what? When the big tough guy gets real pissed, he doesn't power up. He curls up in a corner and cries. -.-"

Like I told Ryan, don't think for one moment I pride myself on being sensitive. Perhaps it helps in empathizing with others, but I'm far from happy to have it. It's a blessing to my friends and a curse to myself. Now I know why fiction, especially science-ficiton, stereotypes scientists as cold unfeeling creatures. Because you have to be one. He could call you a piss drinker. You could call him Omdigr, Martian for he who smears excreta on his face and then licks it up with relish. It is WORK, and to you, it is not personal. It cannot be. If you want to be pedantic about it even your 'personal' insults have to be well thought out to engage maximum probability of a fireback. Or whatever.

Problem? I can't stop it getting to me. I'm too susceptible too personal attacks, excluding those I know is merely friendly teasing.

This is why I don't play chess. I don't think before unleashing my queen. I really need my generals with me.

Sigh. Feel a wee bit better. Thanks for reading. Later~