Red Room Where the Writers Are

Hell,  the lack of ideas never stops most bloggers, so why me? (What's more, the thousands in my daily readership demand my product.  God bless all of you.)

Growing up I was somewhat of an athlete so I was always granted entree into the inner circles of studentdom.  But, alas, here at Red Room I feel inferior, overlooked, pariah-tized.  All the inside joking ongoing between the bloggers and commentors of status, and between the commentors of status, wounds this Red-Roomer and surely all the others who but comprise the sawdust on the tavern floor.

I ask you of the Red Room Elite, you of the upper crust of this organization, to be cognizant of the feelings of us beneath your feet.  Those of us outside in the blustery cold with our noses to your frosty  window panes peering in at your cozy, warm, cheery, ongoing gala have feelings, too. Exclusion always hurts, be it in grammar school, high school,  or in the membership of this supernal writers group.  Your insider comments such as, "Oh, the food was scrumptious last night at the party..." can crush the fragile spirits of outside-the-loop members. So skip these cliquey comments please.  And don't play Christmas music in December, either. That also makes me cry.