Bitch on the Blog

June 21, 2018

Drawing a line (?)

You know how you can sometimes relate to people in that sort of “homecoming” way? Safe. Kindred spirit, and all that. It’s not that you “agree” on everything, it’s just a baseline. You like each other regardless, you trust each other. Even if the other person’s, say, politics stink to high heaven.

I did ponder the other day if you can be friends, I mean proper friends, with someone whose political views are diametrical opposed to yours and, by their nature, outrageous. Have since come to conclusion you probably can – until you have to draw a line. HA! But where is the line? Even real stinkers in world politics do have friends. Just stand by for the fallout. If, by way of example, you were two of the Mitford sisters who were friends with Hitler your reputation will suffer. Still, Hitler was human too. As was his Alsatian. And spare a thought for Eva Braun.

I wish I could let you into a secret of mine. But I can’t. It’s too risky. Only two people know about it (the Angel and my father). Anyway, to them I am more than the sum of my idiosyncrasies. Let’s just say it’s roughly on par – only worse – with admitting that you admired Margaret Thatcher. You will be feathered and tarred.

You know what’s so crazy about my “secret”? It shows my humanity. Yet, I’d be shredded for it. 

And with that thought I’ll leave you. Maybe you’ll be good enough to tell me about your own ideas where friendship has potential to end in terms of acceptable (to you) ideology, beliefs, politics, character traits, demeanours.

U

 

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May 31, 2018

Disappointed and angry

For the benefit of those readers who have the patience and interest to engage with me I will stop recording my ongoing exasperation in blogland soon. I don’t wish to bore you. But the remnants of what is left of a recent saga I will play out. If it costs me. After all, what is blogging if not playing out in public?

In the wake of my last post John has nothing to say other than (left on Nick’s blog):

“Ursula , it’s time to grow up. You’ve been told to leave. You were not invited.
Grow up and stop this persecution complex.” John is great on telling people what to do, what not to do. His kids are lucky that he didn’t have them.

I’ll come back to you, John. It won’t make pleasant reading.

So, I have “a persecution complex”, do I, (among all my other mental health issues prescribed to me by some of John’s circle)?  And you, NICK, have the fucking nerve to let that stand underneath a post in which you lament people in blogland being “psychologized”? Are you actually with it? You THANK him??????????????

Anyway, I take it, in good news, your mother hasn’t died yet. Which is great. Not least because you’ll be able to use that same punchline you used on me AGAIN – on someone else.

If I weren’t such a forgiving person I could kick myself, from here to the next water cooler, that I didn’t stop when I knew I was connecting with a couple of losers. Yes, Nick, as you say, whilst I wouldn’t call myself obtuse, you are right (“Some people are obtuse to the point of idiocy”), I certainly have proven myself to be an idiot by engaging with you (and John). Bloody hell. Never mind. We all have a hall of shame. Mine is pretty empty. So thanks, Nick and John for filling a void.

You, John, you’ll have something to look forward to. In another post. You know, the one when I bow to your command. Who “the fuck (John lingo)” do you think you are, John, to talk to me like that?

U

 

 

 

May 10, 2018

Real

Filed under: Communication,Friends,Integrity,Observations,Roadkill — bitchontheblog @ 20:20
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My mind firmly nailed to the cross all bloggers have to bear [blogging] one question:

Some bloggers appear to make a distinction between “real” people and those they meet in cyberspace.

Do you?

U

March 25, 2018

Alternative Comment Box – Concept(ion) and Implementation

Sometimes one falls so much in love with an idea you forget why it was conceived; what its purpose is.

To remind myself: I conceived, and fell in love with, “Alternative Comment Box” when I realized that whilst people can, and will, arbitrarily, shut you up on their turf [comment boxes] – not by putting up a valid point but taking the short cut of the delete button – I can be their fog horn.

My Alternative Comment Box initially concentrated on the Three Muscle Tears (Gray John, Joyous Rachel and Charmless Sculptor). However, the Alternative Comment Box’s magic that I can comment on anything any way I like.

So before my interest vanes in those whose comment boxes I no longer soil: Foam, put your view, foam, don’t put your view. Sulk instead. Sully my name further by weeping at each others’ shoulders. The latter, only yesterday, so weakly illustrated by Gray John, lost and without direction, throwing himself at Spineless Nick’s mercy with: “Speaking of arguing… U has now turned on me rather than you! How delightfully boring “. Let’s leave aside that I didn’t “turn” on anyone. Nick, ever ready to jump to the defense of damsels in distress, hands John a starched handkerchief with the immortal words of comfort: “Oh dear. She seems to be fixated on you for some reason. What can you do but delete?”

Indeed, what CAN you do? You ain’t exactly spoiled for choice, are you?

If only you knew how much amusement the two of you provide me with you’d go back to the drawing board and devise a new ball game. Not, of course, that balls is your game.

I won’t dissect Gray John’s comment. It smacks of despair and, as he said, it’s “boring”. So not “delightful”. And, hadn’t you made thundering announcements in recent days that you were finished with me? Never mind. You are only human. Let’s turn to Spineless Nick’s reply instead. Nick appears to not have grasped why I am “fixated” on Gray John. Do some revision, Nick. Leave “fixated” out and concentrate on matter in hand. Where poor Spineless Nick lets himself down is his inspired, if lacklustre, advice of “What can you do but delete?” Indeed, Nick, what can YOU do? One may suggest engaging in discussion but don’t test yourselves to the limit.

Other than that, Nick, and take it slowly as not to test your faculties of comprehension: There is nothing to “delete”. Why? As I don’t comment on your respective patches any longer there is nothing to delete; the matter being out of your hands. The ACTION, Nick, the ACTION is all here. Here, where no one can delete me as I will NOT delete YOU. Got anything to say? Say it. Here. On The Alternative Comment Box.

And before you start, Nick: Don’t push it by sniffling “yes, but I never deleted you”. No, you didn’t. You outsourced. If you wish me to go into detail I will – though I’d rather not as not to disillusion WWW who considers you a friend. Not, of course, that one can’t entertain vaguely questionable friends.

U

March 13, 2018

The Alternative Comment Box, 10 – Consideration and the Looney Bin

Before you read on, please do keep reminding yourselves that, in the psychiatric nurse’s view, I am mentally ill. You will therefore, from now on, trusting in John’s opinion, take everything I say not only carefully but with a pinch. Pinch of what? Scepticism? (For the less than educated: Doubt). Let no one accuse John of giving me the benefit of the doubt. Indeed any benefit. No, he chooses some unknown Kate (another blogger of no blog) never heard of before, deriding me not once but twice, over a loyal and appreciative reader of his, namely my insane self. Once more deleting my replies to Kate of no blog.

Let’s liken blogging to a party. There are non starters of a party. Like, say, at Nick’s place and his giggly being introvert but OH such “a good listener” (his assessment not mine). Want the unvarnished truth? The guy has nothing to say. Other than regurgitate shit he garners from the Life Style pages of certain papers. Recently he has even mentioned teenagers when I bet you my last lottery ticket (numbers as yet unchecked and, yes, I know it’s been days since the draw – the suspense keeping me alive) that he has never changed so much as a nappy in his whole life. Still, some people will talk shit about which they know nothing.

I meant to keep this short but John’s (the psychiatric nurse) verdict of my being mentally ill is rather inspiring. I rejoice in illusion that I am Jack Nicholson’s long lost soul mate having fallen out of the Cuckoo’s Nest and on my head. Oh the freedom of insanity. It’s lovely. Social strictures, manners, consideration for others and their feelings: No need, Sweethearts. You are free. FREE. FREE. FREE. Just as free as a psychiatric nurse pronouncing you mentally ill; free to say anything.

Free to say anything. I wish. Such a pity that the Angel has introduced me to the joys of meditation. The main joy – going totally against my bred in the bone grain – that you let things just pass through you. It’s grand. Being the sponge I am – always open to anything – I am now pressed for time, before both Ramana’s and the Angel’s teachings get hold of me  and take root. Pressed for time to do my final reckoning with the fockers in my life before Tabula Rasa has a chance to take over.  As I am a fast learner I am pressed for time indeed.

Where were we? Party. What do you associate with “party” (other than the political kind)? Colour, Vibrancy, Joy, Fun, Variety,  Mental Stimulation, Music, Interesting People, any people. Not so according to the rules of, say, John the Samaritan, miserable Joy, demented Sculptor and spineless Nick. No, what they want (in the comment boxes of their blogs) is sameness, bland as bland can be. Before you are so much as greeted, shown where to hang your coat and being given a drink you’ll have to hand in your colour, your vibrancy, your joy, your fun, any expectation of variety and mental stimulation. In return you will meet the not so very interesting people. Brown. Unfortunately (for them) I do find even the uninteresting brown interesting. And that is my downfall. Call me a cab, Sweethearts. See you at my place.

U

 

 

July 9, 2017

Widening horizons

Filed under: Friends,Human condition — bitchontheblog @ 19:35
Tags: ,

Thank you all for your warm, heartfelt and insightful responses to my last post (“Limitations”). As is my wont (taking life seriously), I did mull over them all; so none of your efforts, various angles you shone on a dispiriting subject, were wasted.

U

May 21, 2017

Aunts and Uncles

Filed under: Communication,Ethics,Friends,Observations,Psychology — bitchontheblog @ 02:00
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Having recently been given the accolade that I “cut through crap” by a higher authority than the crappers I am dealing with on and off,  I have now adopted this as my motto. Which is no doubt why I am terribly popular with, among others, certain bloggers (none of whom comment here – they cry into their own snot stained hankies).

Let’s leave the lame to swinging their walking sticks wildly. And turn to matters that actually make a difference rather than dealing with the somewhat limited. If the boot fits let’s hope their narrow mindedness and blinkered views will give them blisters.

Where was I?

Sweethearts, if I were an agony aunt there would most certainly be agony. I don’t know why I do it but do it I do. Which is reading other people’s woes in  most worthy publications. These “problems” leave me – by and large – speechless. Obviously some do merit thought and consideration. Others? Others just leave me gasping with incredulity. Yes, so if I were an agony aunt heads would be bashed together to knock sense into which clearly has left the common, and a fist or two banging on the table. Remember – I won first prize for cutting through the crap.

Whilst the above is true – if you believe that you believe anything.

Interval. Several hours later…

Leaving what I wrote earlier to prove like dough I have been reflecting on who we, or rather I, ask for advice. And why. If I feel in need of a mega bollocking no barrels held I can rely on LSF (longest standing friend). If there is one person in my life who doesn’t mince his words it’s him. Come to think of it most people in my life don’t mince their words but he is extra strength.

I sometimes ask the Angel for advice. Unfortunately, like his mother, he too is a cutter-through-crap. Coupled with a trait I peculiarly associate with the male of the species – namely, a certain amount of impatience and irritation at my follies. It doesn’t always make for pleasant hearing but at least I can rely on him telling me how he sees it. An often different and enlightening perspective. Yes, I like seeing things with fresh eyes.

What of the people you wouldn’t dream of going for advice to? In my experience they are the ones who tell you what you want to hear, not what you need to hear. Useless. Then there are those who haven’t got a clue about anything. They flounder and you don’t want to add to their feeling incompetent.

What I have realized, and it’s rather interesting, that virtually all people I turn to for advice are men. I am now in danger of treading on very hot coals. Yet fact is – or at least my life’s fact is – that men seem to have a way of getting to the nub of a problem where women tend to meander. Which, and to conclude this post’s original argument, is why men would make efficient agony aunts.

U

May 13, 2017

Cards being dealt

Filed under: Amusement,Communication,forward,Friends,Kitchen,Observations — bitchontheblog @ 10:18
Tags:

Housekeeping is good. I like it. A bit like stock taking.

So, on a point of housekeeping: Those of you I haven’t replied to recently my apologies. Please do not think that your comments go unnoticed. They don’t. I think them over and pen many a considered reply in my head whilst getting on with other things. Yes, if only I could decant my thoughts whilst leading the rest of my life it would not only be efficient it would bury you under an avalanche. Which would be a pity. Because it’s difficult to find that special tree in a forest, or a swine among my many pearls.

Where were we? Housekeeping. My  recent and truly enchanting post on “arrogance” has gone awol (absent without leave). Which reminds me – I think it the height of, no, not arrogance but thoughtlessness how acronyms are used. A few days ago I read an article so memorable I have now forgotten what it was about. But it was interesting. Not least because the author kept going on and on and then some more with three capital letters which meant nothing to me. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Still, it made good reading which is quite an achievement when the reader has no idea what the writer is on about. Considering his – frankly shocking – last post Nick may like to pick up the baton and hasten the end.

Over at John’s a handbag dog with a bone not able to get her teeth into but (for reasons no longer unknown to me) an axe to grind tried to “savage” me. That was so cute – if incoherent. Should you, Sonata, read this, let me remind you of John quoting his mother: “Choose your battles wisely”. Unless, of course, you are dead set on losing not only the war but the battle too.

However,  the most unlikely person has not so much come to my defense (Rachel positively doesn’t like me – though I think we could be good friends if only she’d let me) but has a sense of playing fair. Her jumping into the breach was refreshing. I smiled, and your delivery, Rachel, was a subtle backhander for me.

Other than that, and remember we are talking housekeeping and ship shape, it’s all a bit rough round my edges here at the moment. I need to get to grips with a storm I had hoped to ride out. It’s humbling (and educational) when you realize that will (oh do I adore will) and wishful thinking do not always have the power to overturn realities. So, as Jean, the mother I adopted in blogland, will point out: The only way forward is to adapt. Which is true. Still, I am not a chameleon.

Off to do some housekeeping,

U

April 30, 2017

Breaking news

Ha, all is becoming clear.

In my last post’s reply to Ramana’s comment I say that I actually don’t mind people displaying a healthy dose of arrogance. According to an article I just read we like those who resemble us. Which, oh my poor dear Sweethearts and regular commentators, on the assumption that you give me the time of day because you quite like me and it’s worth your effort, makes all of you arrogant and antagonistic swines. And those who shall remain unnamed – the ones who in their quest to divest themselves of me – are little Bluebells swinging in the wind waiting to be picked. Cute.

Well, if that isn’t a damning indictment (fn the Bluebells) I don’t know what is. Don’t cry. Here is my handkerchief. Keep it.

U

 

October 20, 2016

Promise and Perils

Filed under: Friends — bitchontheblog @ 20:07
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To up the ante of my “Spot Check” try this one for size:

What constitutes friendship?

Is it in your nature to be a friend?

Is it in your nature to attract friends?

Do you think yourself a good friend? And if so, to whom? And why?

How much honesty by a friend can you bear? How much of YOUR honesty do YOU expect a friend to bear? Should there be a fountain of honesty? Or should we be able, with no ill effect on the friendship, know when to turn off the tap of our well meaning, and let the water sicker into the sand?

Are you your own friend? What would it take to sever all contact with you, the friend you are to yourself?

U

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