Bitch on the Blog

February 25, 2017


Filed under: Amusement,Philosophy — bitchontheblog @ 22:41

Ask me a question or two. Anything will do. If I can I will answer them though won’t necessarily be able to do so; but that’s not the point. Think of it as stoking a fire.




  1. Great timing!

    How do you feel about your life? Is it everything you wanted it to be?

    Comment by Cheerfulmonk — February 25, 2017 @ 22:47 | Reply

    • Yes, Jean, I noticed on your blog. There are questions one can’t (or shouldn’t) answer at a moment’s notice. Yours were two of them. So I slinked away to contemplate.

      “How do I feel about my life?” Good. “Is it everything I wanted it to be?” No.

      I could do an ear shattering drum roll of all that was/is good in my life. Like a never ending waterfall. With the odd drought.

      The “No” in answer of your question is reserved for one aspect of my life, and one only. And for that, in the final analysis, I do have only myself to blame. I let myself be swayed not just by one Svengali, but two. The arch manipulators at an age when still so malleable, so receptive. For that I can barely forgive myself. It is so out of character that I let it happen – and yet, I let it happen. And now, now that I have lived more of my life than I have ahead of me I still occasionally, not that I spend much time reflecting on it any longer, shake my head at my folly – but, big sigh, in the end what does it matter? I didn’t fulfill an ambition close to my heart – so what? It’s a sobering thought that once you are six foot under nothing really mattered at all. Other, of course, than being remembered by those who survive you, till they too cross the Jordan. What they will not remember you for is your regret, what they do remember you for is what you were to them. And that’s how it should be.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 26, 2017 @ 12:51 | Reply

  2. What? Who? Makes you angry

    Comment by finlaygray — February 25, 2017 @ 23:52 | Reply

    • Thanks, John. Why did your question make me laugh?

      WHAT makes me angry? Not a lot come to think of it. Though, just like still waters which are calm till a storm breaks loose, when I do get angry I really am. Heartfelt anger, not some fake “ain’t it awful” bull.

      Leaving politics aside, in daily life top of my list of WHAT angers me are people being inconsiderate. Being inconsiderate ranging from dropping banana skins onto the pavement to … I don’t know … anything that makes other people’s lives just that little bit, and unnecessarily so, more unpleasant than it already is. I don’t believe people to be inconsiderate with intent. Oh no, it’s worse. They are inconsiderate because it never occurs to them that their actions have consequences for others; they are as oblivious and obtuse as a blind is blind. One thing which will never do, and pointless, to show your anger to people like that; what you do instead is either ignore (which I am not good at), gently reprimand or become a behavioural therapist. Gently does it. Where I take the patience from is other people’s guess.

      “WHO” makes me angry? There is anger and there is anger. Anger will flare up – even between those who are close to each other. And that’s ok. I think what angers me most are people who will not enter into discussion, discourse. Frank exchanges of opinion. Being able to take something on the chin, actually bloody listen instead of thinking of an answer before the other has even finished. Always being on the defensive. Which often leads the defensive to go on the attack. Actually, come to think of it, maybe it’s not so much “anger” I feel as being exasperated, uncomprehending. The big theme in my life is communication – both professionally and privately. Which is why, no doubt, I tend to attract a fair contingent of the closed off, the sullen, the refusers, the paranoid. Unfortunately, for them, that brings out the big sister/motherly instinct in me. “There, there”, I’d like to say. “Calm yourself; nothing should be eaten as hot as it’s cooked”…. You get the drift.

      You, and I have “known” you now for many years, are a marvellous example of trying to balance “anger” with an innate desire to keep the peace – whether in your daily life going by your anecdotes or in blogland. But it is a battle for you at times, isn’t it? Unlike you I don’t hold the PEACE at any price but will never hold a grudge. If I have one motto: Engage with the world. Wholeheartedly. That you do, and that I do.

      Greetings to Albert. He’ll know what I mean.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 26, 2017 @ 13:02 | Reply

  3. Do you still have a great dream?

    What/who/where/when gives you joy. Exclude Angel.


    Comment by wisewebwoman — February 26, 2017 @ 01:52 | Reply

    • “Exclude the Angel”? How can I. But, yes, I do get your point, WWW.

      I don’t think there is a “still” in “do you have a great dream?”. Being born and brought up a dreamer, albeit of a practical bend, I will dream on my deathbed. No, actually that’s probably the one place I’ll wake up and stare reality into the eye. OH MY GOD. This is it. Is it? You can’t silence the ever optimist, you can’t take hope away from them. I can see it now, WWW. I shall go into history as Ursula, the Great Warrior, who fought the Reaper and let HIM reap what he sowed. The swine. Let him get a taste of his own medicine. Survivors of this world – UNITE!

      Joy? I am of a mind that anything gives me joy. The smallest, the almost unnoticeable gives me joy. I will stop in my tracks and, literally, smell the rose even if its scent is neutral. People crossing swords (verbally, in intelligent discussion) give me joy. A baby, an old person, anyone, reciprocating my smile on passing gives me joy. The fairy at my cradle responsible for dishing out capacity for joy was most generous. Having said that, so is my capacity for sorrow. Sorrow being the other side of the coin. An intensity of feeling which some people can’t comprehend. I don’t really envy those who can shrug off invariable disappointments, but sometimes I do [envy them]. Which neatly brings us to my inability to “give up”. On the face of it that sounds great, doesn’t it? NEVER EVER GIVE UP. Not that simple. I have caused myself a lot of grief because I refuse to give up. It’s literally out of my bandwidth.

      You yourself, admirably so, are very open on your blog – and I am trying to reciprocate.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 26, 2017 @ 12:53 | Reply

  4. Why are you in the UK?
    Where is father of Son?
    What do you do for fun?

    Comment by Kylie — February 26, 2017 @ 02:02 | Reply

    • Why am I in the UK? Once upon a time I fell in love with an Englishman. At the time his parents (Army) were stationed in the land of my birth, and after Uni and a spot of travelling, he took up a job in the city I lived in. We met via mutual friends (at a wedding, would you believe it – I DISliked him on sight). He loved my motherland but – being a traditional kind of guy – he decided to return to England because as he said he’d have felt that I’d always have the upper hand being on home ground. Don’t say anything, Kylie. I know it’s ridiculous, he knows it’s ridiculous. But what’s bred in the bone is bred in the bone and few people apply radical surgery to sever a limb.

      Yes, so four years later he proposed in Paris and a week later I found myself in Britain. Three months later we were married. Nine years later the apple of my eye was born. Four years later we separated by mutual consent. Two years after that we got divorced.

      Reasons why I am, twenty years on, still in the UK are many fold. Firstly England is the place where I have lived most my adult life as such my (other) home; secondly – and most importantly – I wanted father and son to have as close a relationship as possible. How I made this possible I may cover separately and hope it will serve many a couple who have children together but do wish to go their separate ways. It can be done – a divorce does not have to have the ill effects that so many inflict on their children, if unintentionally. It’s one of my major achievements in life.

      Where is the father of my son? About one hour’s drive away, deepest Surrey.

      What do I do for “fun”? Kylie, that’s a question that always stumps me. I don’t compartmentalize my life. For me life is not divided into chores, work, leisure, “fun”. It’s organic. I feel genuinely happy doing anything. It almost amounts to a character defect. I do what needs to be done and if my heart doesn’t sing it rarely has to do with what I am doing, more with what is on my mind.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 26, 2017 @ 13:06 | Reply

  5. I was avoiding interrogating you, but since you insisted: How is it that your life has become so uneventful that you need this kind of stimulation? Then there is the “If I can I will answer” bit. Since when was there a relationship between answering a question and being able to answer a question? I thought civilization had moved beyond that: The inability to answer a question is a pre-requisite for providing an ‘unbiased’, thoughtful answer in today’s Ivory Towers.

    Comment by Looney — February 26, 2017 @ 05:34 | Reply

    • Well, Looney, thinking of you as a tease, I fully expected you to ask me factual questions, like, how many light years till eternity. Or how I’d find my way out of paradise minus Ariadne’s thread; or some such. The first would have me stumped (not able to answer the question); the second I would have had to ask for considerable time (like eternity) to come up with an answer.

      And who says that one’s life has to be “uneventful” to seek “stimulation”? I ain’t no adrenaline junkie, just curious. In this case curious what others would like to know of me; curious how far I am prepared to go in what is, after all, a public place.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 26, 2017 @ 13:03 | Reply

  6. Cannot thnk of a question to ask you….maybe one day..

    Mind you my father used to amuse me with the following:

    On meeting someone suitable, a new acquaintance of mine or my sister, he would observe, sagely, ” Me and my brother know everything. Ask me a question”
    After encouragement the new acquaintance would ask a question to which my father invariably replied, “Sorry I don’t know that. It’s one of the things my brother knows.”

    The puzzled look on new acquaintances’s face was wonderful to behold.

    It still works…. and makes a useful point in a classroom of children ….. be careful waht you say.

    Sorry about that. ALways comes to mind when someone mentions asking questions.

    Comment by magpie11 — February 26, 2017 @ 13:04 | Reply

    • You can’t think of a question to ask me, Magpie? Well, I thought you a person of some imagination. Or maybe you’d just rather not.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 26, 2017 @ 13:08 | Reply

      • I apologise if I disappoint you in this. As for being imaginative…. maybe I am but I suspect that I am more Reactive than Proactive in this case….. perhaps your reply to Looney gives a clue…. I have an idea that you will let one know things as and when you are good and ready… In the fulness of time.

        Which thought process leads me to a question as I type: What do you want us/me to know about you?

        Comment by magpie11 — February 27, 2017 @ 12:53 | Reply

        • Oh, Magpie, you never “disappoint” me.

          What do I want anyone to know about me? Now, there is a poignant question (see? never hide your light in the shadow, Magpie; it’ll shine anyway). I don’t know. I suppose sufficient to be willing for respective orbits to overlap.


          Comment by bitchontheblog — February 27, 2017 @ 17:22 | Reply

  7. Why do you blog?

    Comment by rummuser — February 26, 2017 @ 14:24 | Reply

    • Why do I blog, my dear Ramana.

      I first came to blogging egged on by a blogging circle I happened upon about eight years or so ago, some members of which took exception to what I left in their comment boxes. It was one of those moments (if prolonged) in my life when I fell off one of my clouds. Which is fine. I learnt a lot – not least about vindictiveness, closed circles, cliques, being made the outsider, some of which possibly explained by cultural differences and/or personality clashes – and their fine nuances. Interesting who of that time stuck it out and I consider friends of mine – you, Magpie, Jean and Maria (aka gaelikaa).

      Why do I blog. I like connecting with others. My life is dominated by throwing ideas, thoughts, opinions on the table and thrashing them out. Thrashing them out with good will, with trust in the other that they don’t wish you ill. Some people think discussion to be about right and wrong. It isn’t. It’s about an exchange towards a common goal. Some people take the mildest form of doubt as personal criticism. It isn’t. Connecting with others is a canvas. Not always a Pollock, sometimes just paint pots not yet opened.

      And then there is the truly personal angle to many a blog. Not least as evidenced by this post. To actually get to know each other on the most basic level. Those coming to mind, say, WWW, Tammy, who really lay themselves bare. Unlike Nick, and I hope he will forgive me my little dig here, who tends to hide behind whatever “outrage” in the life style pages takes his fancy.

      My answer to your question not exhaustive. Just a taster, an attempt.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 26, 2017 @ 18:33 | Reply

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