When I was in high school, there was a girl who brought a knife to school. It was found in her locker, reportedly with a list of boys and girls that she wanted to stab, as well as a change of clothes. This is heresy, I hope you realize, as I never personally witnessed the items, but can attest to the fact that she was suspended, her entire schedule was changed, and her reputation was forever altered.

This girl was a loner, from what I can remember about her. She wore a lot of black and had a dour expression on her face at all times. While she was never initially in the ‘esteemed-to-be-included-in’ popular crowd, after the incident she was nothing less than a pariah.

The school newspaper was to run a cover story on this event, and due to the threat of a lawsuit, pulled it at the last minute. Instead, the entire front page of the paper was blackened, with the words ‘This is where the stabbing story would have gone’ – or something along those lines.

It made headlines all over the city, and became the topic of discussion in most of our classrooms. The editors had chosen to censor themselves instead of bear the threat of a lawsuit.

This happens too often. Currently, my friend is battling a lawsuit about censorship and free speech on the internet, which was covered in yesterday’s New York Times as well as on the AP Wires. (Click HERE for the story.) Whether divulging the facts as he saw them, however lacivious and sexual in nature, was the best decision isn’t what is at question here. Should he have told his details of hooking up with this less-than-bright pageant contestant? Maybe not. Should he have the right to? Absolutely.

First Amendment issues are especially sticky in this new ‘electronic age’, as the internet has allowed information to be disseminated at lightning speed and in a nearly unimaginable breadth. The courts have, thus far, strayed away from making rulings on what is allowable, basically because the medium is evolving so quickly and because, truly, there’s little if no way to do so. My company itself is the world’s leading Search Engine, providing much of this information that is now not only requested, but expected. Censorship just doesn’t have a place on the Web.

And yet we still see it. We see cases like Tucker’s above, and I see it myself on my own site. Though I’ve repeatedly said that I write for me before I write for you, the audience, I’ve found myself holding back based on the response. It infuriates me like nothing else. If I’m pissed off at someone, I want to be able to use my site as the vehicle that it is – for free speech. I want to lash out, angry, hurling insults at whomever has angered, hurt, or upset me. If you make me scream in frustration or make me cry, I want you to pay.

And yet I don’t. Why? Not because I’m scared – anyone who knows me well can attest to the fact that I rarely mince words. In fact, I’ve often put my foot in my mouth by speaking out of anger without thinking through the possible repercussions. In this case, via writing, I am afforded the luxury of time, the luxury of being able to craft and recraft my retort, my thoughts, my take on any situation. And still I don’t. And I’ve yet to come up with a compelling reason why not.

In the past, I felt like I got SOME of my just desserts by at least saying what I felt (even though it was months, and at times years, too late.) It helped, a bit. But the here and now – unfulfilled.

It may be an issue of pride. We’re told to take the higher road, to be the bigger person, to do the right thing. You know what? I’m tired of that. I’m TIRED of making the right decision and holding back and fuming inside and being hurt and taking it upon myself, as if this somehow was MY fault or something that I did, when it wasn’t. I’m tired of biting my lip or putting down the phone when really what I want to do is go off, asking the questions I want answers to and saying the things that I’ve thus far held back. I’m tired of censoring myself because that’s just the way things are. Life is too short to wonder.

I’ll consider it a birthday present to myself. Come Sunday, beware the fury of Aubrey, Uncensored. Consider yourself forewarned.