Bitch on the Blog

March 3, 2017

Trilling

Filed under: Amusement,Communication,Dizzy,Exasperation,Fun,manners — bitchontheblog @ 16:59
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In the wake of my last post, and your assorted favoured instruments doing what instruments do (who’ll provide the crescendo?) I will throw my own screech into the ring. Namely the chatterbox.

Don’t dismiss the chatterbox and come to me with bland spoutings of silence is golden” (though it is, and one of the reasons I rarely listen to music when working, instead spending most my life enveloped in relative silence). What’s the other one put forward by those who have little to say, yet trying to justify being a little vacant? “I am a good listener”. Really? How about being a good conversationalist? You know, like ping pong, a game of (table) tennis? Back, forth, back, forth … Then, naturally, and it’s a pet hate of mine, and was amply targeted at me by a woman of questionable integrity and even less brain matter and now having run out of steam: “The empty kettle makes the loudest noise.” What eludes the poor sausage that repeating the same saying again and again doesn’t make her (or the saying) any more interesting or true. She’d have been better advised to fill her own kettle. At least, at boiling point, she’d have made a hissing sound instead of just running dry.

Yes, so, once a chatterbox, always a chatterbox. It’s a gift. Trust me. I have drawn people out of themselves who consider themselves tongue tied, particularly on the phone (yes, phone phobics are my speciality). Of course, one could and would and possibly should agree with one of my sisters who once said to me, tartly: “There is no such thing as a short (telephone) conversation with you, is there?”. She was cross with me at the time, and also right. There isn’t such a thing as a short telephone conversation with me. Not even when you are phoning from a callcentre. I have made friends with people in call centers, weeping at my far removed shoulder, thanking me for talking to them as if they were part of the human race, not just doing a shitty job.

Yes, chatterbox. Like any instrument you need to fine tune it (a bit like Lorna’s and Shoshanah’s much desired singing voices and/or bodies) and Maria’s hardening finger tips. I once did stop in my tracks when FOS (father of son) suggested it might be less time consuming (for him) if I stuck to written communication which, apparently though not evidenced by this post, tends to be concise and to the point. I interpreted it as a sort of a backhander of a compliment.

Anyway, and then I shut up, you will suffer, like with any art, for refining your powers as Ms Chatterbox. Not least because you tempt people into lying to you. One hour on, they’ll tell you someone is at the door, the dog has died or whatever a suitable excuse may be to get me off the blower.

Apropos of nothing: Today John told someone (not me) that he (the other) was a “tit”. I have been wondering: Obviously what is a tit to a suckling baby, and a singing bird to the enthusiast, is someone else’s arse. Or some such.

U

February 27, 2017

Tabula rasa

To blow the lid off yesterday’s vessel I will give you something to think about, to reflect on. A laughing matter it ain’t. In fact, I am in shock. Not that I should be since I have experienced same in a different guise before.

There I was, reading a comment. Unfortunately – and please do follow the story line – I didn’t take in the name of the commentator. By the tone of the voice, its sheer being obtuse, I “knew” who it was. Cue hackles rising. I worded my answer accordingly, erring on the acerbic side. Being my lucky day, before I pressed “publish” my gaze happened upon the name of the actual sender.

And what do you know? And this is the punchline and the whole point of this post – and it is shameful. Once I realized who it really was from my whole mindset changed. Suddenly, the very same text took on a completely different nuance. Seen though a filter of benevolence and affection I do have towards this particular commentator. How mad (subjective) is that? Needless to say that I deleted and re-wrote my answer.

If that doesn’t wake you to the vagaries  of human exchanges nothing will. I literally cannot believe it. When I say “it” I mean, I can’t believe that I fell into the very trap I so despair of with others.

U

January 13, 2017

Please select one of the following options

I need to vent a brief spleen. And who better than my helpless readers to vent it on?

One of the reasons I am considered to be so “good with children” that I have the patience of several saints rolled into one. Keyword “patience”. I myself would say that the reason I am good with children, indeed anyone, is because I am interested in them. But that’s not today’s spleen’s subject.

Patience. Naturally, as one would expect considering the laws of adversity, my personal life is peopled with people on a short fuse. GG (gay guy) had the shortest of them all. He was charming with it and, at a distance, one can live with other people’s short fuses. Though, truth be told, short fuses leave me bewildered. I don’t get it.

Back to where I started. I nearly blew a very long fuse ten minutes ago. Though I didn’t. It’s not that poor girl’s fault (Chinese, stuck in some god forsaken BT call centre, with an almost undecipherable accent to match) that the company she works for is what it is.

What got my goat – and not for the first time – that people just assume (in letters ASSUME) that I have a mobile/cell phone/handy so they can send me a text to confirm whatever there is to confirm. I DO NOT HAVE (see above). On relating this the dense will repeat the question: “What is your mobile number?”. This is the moment when even I (eleven minutes into a tedious call) am ready to burst a blood vessel. I don’t and I didn’t.

My question to you: Are we supposed to sing and dance to the same tune?

U

January 5, 2017

Cold turkey

Some people do seek, or are advised to do so, aversion therapy. I don’t.

Why? Because, other than the usual candidates, I am averse to little. Particularly not people. I never tire of them. Not even bloggers (with potential) whose blogs I comment on who can’t be arsed to enter a civilized discussion (two at the current count). I take their idiocies in my patient stride. They may “block” me and my comments as often as they like (showing themselves up as the wastes-of-time I keep telling myself they are). And yet. What do I do? Keep going. Which is why I need aversion therapy in reverse.

Any suggestions, words of wisdom?

U

October 25, 2016

Send chocolate

Filed under: Communication — bitchontheblog @ 16:35
Tags: ,

Trigger Warning. Spoiler Alert.

Am down in the dumps. Crossroads and all that. Disenchanted.

Yesterday I bothered (on some other – close to me – people’s behalf). Today? Today I wish I hadn’t. Today I have just about had it. The Angel who got a brief glimpse of my despair last night besieged me to leave well alone, not let it get to me. Wise words, no doubt. How? It HAS gotten to me. Strange, in many ways, that I have never been able to hold hatred in my heart. But occasionally, just occasionally like virtually never, I am so close to it. The very thought of this being a real possibility shocks me.

Even my usual remedy coming to terms with all ills, namely going for a long brisk walk mulling it all over, didn’t help today.

Some of you, most of you I dare say, seem able to disconnect, to shunt, to close doors. Without so much as a backward glance. Why can’t I?

So frustrated, yours,

U

October 23, 2016

Chat chat chat

“She lets other people babble on, while giving away little about what she thinks.”

No this quote isn’t about me. I rarely let other people babble on, and I do, freely, give away what I think. When I do let someone babble on it’s for tactical purposes. It’s like watching a spider weave its net.

When I say “practical purposes” I don’t mean nefarious. Quite the opposite. Sometimes, particularly on the personal, it’s best to let someone just talk. Not only will you learn an awful lot about them (giving you a better grounding if they wish for your advice) but, most importantly, they will hear themselves speak. I realized this, and it was a revelation, when some years ago my doctor advised and subscribed grief counselling for me. I was in such despair to find a way out of my despair, for once I put all my scepticism to one side and gave it a shot.

To this day I can’t believe what happened during those fifty minutes sessions. Being engaged at all times, interested in everyone and everything, I tried to enter into dialogue with my “counsellour”. No doing. They will not be drawn. Though eventually he did relent and told me a little about his background before he went into counselling (teaching). But, on the whole, I did all the talking, pouring it all out – I HEARD myself aloud. I was, literally, listening to myself. If, in an hour, he interjected with a couple of questions that was a lot. Took two sessions of talking aloud – whilst being listened to – to clear the cobwebs, giving me some footing to handle my sorrow. An extraordinary experience. Also slightly eerie and vaguely unsettling since it was nothing like what normal human exchange is like.

U

 

October 13, 2016

Munch’s Scream

Having been brought up on folklore and fairy tales to bursting point and lasting as fodder for my nightmares (and dreams) a life time I sometimes wonder about “sayings”.

Today’s is “walking in some else’s shoes”. Having a lot of imagination and empathy by the bucket load, I flatter myself that I do not need to walk in someone else’s shoes to understand. Ha. Never overestimate your abilities. You may have a clue, a bit like finding your way through fog. You will get lost in the woods.

In absence of any other diversion I have just tried to imagine what a rat, indeed any animal (or human), feels when forced into a corner. Main thing, I suppose, is to have your back against the wall. That way you face the horrors in pursuit of you full on; better than being stabbed in the back. Similar, I imagine, to drowning. You know it’s happening and, in absence of a lifeline, for a few minutes in your life, you’ll have certainty.

Ray of sunshine greetings,

U

October 10, 2016

Check, Mate

One of the joys of a language being your second is that you give meaning to words and phrases only you understand.

Let’s leave aside my coquettish, and for years, saying “prawn to something” instead of prone. You have to be a foreigner to enjoy that little play. British humour aside, they don’t get it.

Anyway, I grew up – yesterday – and now know how not to be stupid beyond my capabilities.

U

October 4, 2016

Incredulous

Filed under: Communication,Ethics,Human condition — bitchontheblog @ 08:46
Tags: , , , ,

Despite the years marching on I have not grown into a cynic. Thank dog for one of his smaller mercies.

Which is why, yesterday morning, I was chilled to the bone. And wished I were five again to run to either my mother or grandmother to make it all better, nay, take it all away.

I quote “Ask me what you want to know, but I won’t tell you the truth, of that you can be sure,” saying she liked the passage [of another author].

“Of that you can be sure” … Breathe in, breathe out.

Let’s leave aside who “she” who “liked the passage” is. Doesn’t matter. What matters is the content of the quote (incidentally by an author I have on my shelf for good reason, namely, Italo Calvino). Who knows in what context Calvino said those words. But HER liking not telling the truth? And this on publishing her AUTObiography?

The pole of my esteem I hold others in I don’t grease that much. One needs to make allowances, and that way most stay up there high. Those hell bent on getting down can always jump or use their own spit. But, by golly, when someone’s spouting chills me (see above) to the bone I am on red alert. Whoever “she” is I’d not trust her with my frying pan.

Which reminds me: Why, when in court, are even atheists, agnostics, expected to swear on the bible to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? One would hope so. But why on the Bible? Being made to swear on your grandmother’s grave possibly more effective in making you think twice before bending that “truth” to your advantage.

U

 

October 1, 2016

A game people shouldn’t play

May have mentioned this before. What unsettles me more than anything else in relationships with humans, THE COLD FISH.

The cold fish has power to break me like no other creature. I suspect it’s because I don’t understand the cold fish’s approach, their detachment. That’s it: Detachment. Shout at me, criticize me, give me a hard time, tell me what you really think of me but don’t give me the cold shoulder, wrap yourself in silence.

The few times in my life I have been shown that cold shoulder, that silence, have crept me out. Made me feel a despair foreign to me. Years down the line I should have learnt; I haven’t.  I cannot even begin to describe to you how helpless (and humiliated) I feel in the face of those shrugging you (and others) off. Them walking away with not so much as a backward glance. It literally defies all I myself stand for and believe in.

To give the cold fish the benefit of the doubt: Those who apply that approach are either on a power trip or are scared of life. What the latter do, first and foremost, is protect THEMSELVES. A bit like snails in their shells. Except, of course, that shells are easily crushed. Unless those shells are so calcified that little can break the barrier. Beware your bare foot being cut when, inadvertently, you step on sharp edges along the beach.

U

 

 

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