Where monkeys throw banana skins at each other or just plain ignore the one on the tree next to you I communicate. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have the urge. I don’t mean communicate when it’s necessary to purchase a loaf of bread or tell someone that their zip is unzipped but communicate just for the sake of connecting with others.
That road is not paved, it’s not even gravelled, it’s a mud bath.
There are a few blogs I read not because they give me joy, enhance my day, enlighten me, make me think. Oh, no. I read them because the blogger annoys me. Intensely. Thus I have learned to keep myself to myself. As in: I don’t comment. Yes, Sweethearts, I, Ursula, do NOT comment on them. I just enjoy myself being annoyed, baffled, even angry at times. The Angel who thinks I am mad to put myself through the misery misses the point. Not only do you learn about the world by reading the frankly, and for many reasons, unpalatable; you also learn discipline, how to rein yourself in and, in my case, to accept that you can’t reason with some people. They and their opinions are so cast in stone they should go to a sculptor’s yard and be chiselled into something becoming, pleasing the eye, the ear and, above all, making sense.
Top of my list are those who think that the frequent use of swearwords to underline their argument conveys meaning. Eff off, will you.