Bitch on the Blog

May 10, 2018

Real

Filed under: Communication,Friends,Integrity,Observations,Roadkill — bitchontheblog @ 20:20
Tags: , , , ,

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

Advertisements

May 7, 2018

In search of balance and fairness

I’ll break up this post not only into paragraphs as one does but, for ease and accommodating those whose brain doesn’t work in more than bite size, into snippets. Each with its own header. A sort of mix and match, pick and choose Bonanza.

Snippet One

John left me comments. Two of them to the effect that I shouldn’t “badmouth” other bloggers. It’s a good job that I am who I am. Calm and blessed with an inordinate sense and appreciation of the ridiculous.

Snippet Two – trigger warning: Character Assessment.

The Resting in France Artiste, being given John’s advice, would be foaming at the mouth, trashing the place, stomping around, declaring all and sundry, not least me, STUPID.

Snippet Three – trigger warning: Character Building.

The Sculptor? With him you never know. He is considerably more refined – if ill mannered – than The Resting in France Artiste. In absence of anything more original and not applying any [humour] himself he’d just accuse me of lacking sense of humour. It’s his default mode. Stuck on the same track as crackling LPs were back when he was young (the Sixties?). Considering that the Sculptor works with not easily beaten into shape materials one would have thought his scope to communicate broader. And it is [broader, his scope]. It’s just he can’t be arsed. Don’t say I don’t give people the benefit of the doubt.

Snippet Four – trigger warning: Descaling.

How would Joyful Rachel have reacted being reprimanded by John or anyone else? Probably by closing down her blog for five minutes, making a big play of it, to then regale us with her various and never to be doubted insights into the world’s machinations. I can’t wait till she has wrestled down Schopenhauer’s The World as Will and Representation (Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung). Shouldn’t take her more than two and half days max to tell us that Nietzsche’s household was run by his sister. And wait for the horse. In Turin.

Snippet Five – trigger warning: Reflection whilst sitting in A&E

Who knew that there is such joy in taking the piss? I never did till the clique, as I call RiFA, JR and the Sculptor took a shining to me – the three of them propped up by John. I promised to stop calling John The Samaritan so I won’t. A pity in many ways because John is a good guy. Within their clique he has been given, or possibly sought, the role of care giver. He is the one running around with band aids, bandaging Rachel at every corner. She must be a work in progress. I look forward to the day, John having run out of bandages, the Sculptor taking a chisel to her stone to find the real Rachel underneath all those plasters and tears turned to salt. Let’s hope him unmasking her will make her smile. Just the once.

Snippet Six – trigger warning: Summoning up

John, and I mean it, I am touched that you engage with me despite dire threats to the contrary. Alas, and it made me smile, you asking me to not “bad mouth” members of your innermost circle is like the milkman asking the cowherd to stop milking. Do you really want me to spell it out, in writing, what the lot of you have dished out towards me? It’s a long long long list of many memorable quotes (we are talking years) making both distressing and amusing reading.

Snippet Seven – trigger warning: Assessment

Unlike you, John, I don’t need to be liked. So your foreboding that my readership doesn’t like me for what I am doing here holds no incentive for me. Either people see me for the person I am, or they see me as your lot does. Your lot which keeps BAD, nay, FOUL mouthing me with gay abandon or, in absence of anything original or convincing to say, just deleting me.

Snippet Eight – trigger warning: Self Awareness

Reflecting on all that’s gone before I can see one shortcoming of mine, John: I do NOT know when a lost cause is a lost cause. I, literally, do see it as one of my potential and occasional downfalls that I appear unable to give up on anyone. I do see the good in everyone and I pursue it even if they’d rather I didn’t. Looking from the outside in, it’s a strange trait of mine considering how most people appear to be able to shed others like so much dandruff if they don’t toe the line. I don’t, I can’t. Sometimes I wish I could but then I wouldn’t be me. And I like being me. Being me largely joyous, sometimes painful – by which I mean shouldering stuff others shrug off.

Snippet Nine – trigger warning: The End

To summon up: I like you, John. I think you occasionally misguided but I don’t think there is a rotten to your core bone in your body. You mean well – albeit you occasionally going about it the wrong way. I won’t ask whether you’d like me to elaborate because I know you’d rather I didn’t. What you don’t appear to see, with regards to the conduct of your clique towards me, that I do have a point. Fact is, no one is all black, no one is all white. To slander me – not my views, MY PERSONA – as your lot has done is regrettable. It marks the lot of you as neither robust nor particularly original. At least you, John, don’t claim to have any artistic leanings whereas The Resting in France Artiste, Sketchy Rachel and Sisyphus are about as sensitive to others as a bull sorting their assorted china.

Snippet Ten – trigger warning: Dead End

If none of you can’t see why your attitude gives me reason to try and instill some [reason] into you then, I agree, I am on a fool’s errant.

I AM on a fool’s errant. Still, as FOS (father of son) used to say, as only an Englishman can: Ursula sees a joke where other people’s humour has lost its way in the dark.

His actual words were less poetic but I am sure you won’t get the gist. Anyway, it’s why I still haven’t given up on the Sculptor. I firmly believe that if he got over himself, regrouped and saw himself as I see him, which is in a favourable light, we could become friends. Maybe I give him too much slack. But I do see potential.

Rachel? After that last little interlude a few days ago – I left her a heartfelt note, she responded rather touchingly and full of feeling, only for her to, eventually, take down both my comment and her reply. Maybe, of course, the Sculptor, as he once asked you, John, and didn’t you jump to attention and followed through, told her to not give me “any oxygen”. I don’t wish to elevate the Sculptor to what he doesn’t amount to but he definitely has the makings of a Svengali in training.

Snippet Eleven – trigger warning: Rope

Dear John (and I mean the “dear”), I could go on recording my take on what’s happened in your clique’s stagnant pond but life beckons. And all of yours short too. Lives that is – I am sure your respective narratives are labyrinthine. If you need to take a short cut remember the Gordian Knot. Some take a sword to a tangled web; I, myself, prefer applying sailors’ knots. The intricate ones that unravel with little more than a yank of your hand. It’s an art

U

March 27, 2018

Alternative Comment Box – Health Warning

There are two types of pain; the inflicted and the self inflicted. Sometimes the two overlap. Band aids on request (I don’t do stitches unless you want me to knit you a scarf).

One cool cucumber of a commentator, on the blog of many as yet to be deleted expletives spewed in my direction, evoked the spectacular of Karma for sins I stand accused of having committed in John’s comment box; something along the lines of her ardent wish for Karma to bite my behind. Unfortunately, there is a fault in her thinking. A mistake easily made: When you wish someone bad Karma what you are doing is wishing bad Karma onto yourself.

I repeat: When you wish someone bad Karma what you are doing is wishing bad Karma onto yourself. As the Angel astutely observed the other day: “If one lived with the ‘eye for an eye’ maxim, when would it end? Never.” I dare say, lame and blind – that’s where it would end: Limp and in the dark. Fighting windmills. So, those lovely creatures out there so enchanted with your barely audible brain exhalations, be careful what you wish onto others.

If my above take on Karma is wrong I will stand corrected. Over to 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 24, 2018

Alternative Comment Box, Finals … – Going Gently

Sorry about pauses in proceedings.

Sometimes I wish there were three of me. Don’t groan. It could be worse. Four of me. Hundreds, Thousands …

The only reason I wish I were more than one of me that I could delegate to my others. Delegate to my others to tidy all those loose ends I leave in my trail whilst trying to tend to the main business of my life.

This morning’s washing (black) coming out of the machine covered in tiny shreds of white tissue. I nearly lost the will to live. Then I remembered my mission in blog land; namely to support rhyme and reason, eradicate unfairness and instill justice. Not just on my behalf. I can live with shit – even John’s who can barely contain his.

Before I stop mentioning John by name (after all, he just stands for others with similar limitations), I won’t deny him the public glory of having excelled himself. To my dismay I  had, initially, not picked up a true morsel he served me up on a platter. You may remember my post “Inadequate” in which I ask about the morals of a man who applies double standards.

Casting my inner eye over most people in my life, not least some of my readers/commentators, I imagined their answers if I had laid such a serious question at their respective door steps. And what eloquent and reasoned replies I would have received. What does One John come up with? It was so thin, I nearly missed how thick it is: “No comments as per usual….go figure”.

You ask someone about their moral bankruptcy and all they are able to come back up with is “No comments as per usual….go figure”?

Yes, John, go figure.  Unlike you I don’t hone a herd of sycophants who comment even if they haven’t got anything to say; even if there is nothing to add.

Unlike you, and some of your circle, I do not make layman’s pronouncements (in absence of anything mildly original to say) on others’ mind, soul or inner workings. Without wishing to stretch the limitations of your brain power to bursting point:

What does that feeble “counter attack” (if you can call a lame response that) of yours say about you? That you are feeble?

Ok. Let’s, for sake of argument, say that you are feeble. In which case, dearest John, you will be so happy to hear that I only blame myself that I didn’t follow a hunch many moons ago that I was whiling time away in the wrong part of Wales. To no one’s benefit.

Read the last paragraph again (yes, I know, you claim you don’t read my posts any longer; pull the other one, John. You’d have to be super human not to; not least because you don’t rest in yourself but are totally dependent on anyone’s and your readers endorsement of you). I said “I only blame myself”. You see, John, that is self awareness. That is admitting that we have limitations. Mine being that I don’t recognize that gold nuggets are not to be found in a sand pit. I am tempted to go as far as apologizing that I mistook you for someone you are not.  You never claimed you are something you are not – so it sure ain’t your fault that I find you morally bankrupt.

To you it’s all black and white. Which, considering your surname is Gray, is almost tragic.

U

 

 

 

 

March 21, 2018

The Alternative Comment Box, Finals – Weed control

Let’s do the twist, Sweethearts, and put a different spin on “trolling”.

Not yet widely recognized, largely unacknowledged, there are bloggers trolling their commentators … usually the very same bloggers who cry “troll” at anyone who displeases them in the comment box. 

Got that? Bloggers trolling their commentators …

Leaving aside that most true trolls are men, the same study goes into some detail, and it doesn’t make comfortable reading, WHY (some) male bloggers troll their female readers/commentators.

U

March 19, 2018

Inadequate

 

What to make of a man who makes a demand yet doesn’t act by his own code.

Specifics:

  • The Demand, nay the law as laid down by One John: namely that on his blog personal attacks are NOT allowed.

So far so fine. Reasonable, if only he were ABLE to distinguish what constitutes a questioning mind and what constitutes an attack.

Enter double standards. One for me. One for all his other readers.

Repeat: The question is what to make of a man who demands that no personal (perceived as) attacks are to be made in discussion among his readers; to then let stand the most astonishing personal attacks addressed at One Ursula as, and he excelled himself, this fine Monday morning. Every single reply of mine to those insults ranging from … to …, deleted. All personal attacks on me being let to stand. Enjoy.

To clarify once more and for the dense:  What I see as unfair and unjust is not so much that John deletes my comments. That’s by the by. The Sculptor and Rachel do so – out of an intense if somewhat irrational dislike for me. However, where John parts ways with both the Sculptor and Rachel that the two of them have the decency to strike me off as if I never commented. That’s ok.

However, One John, the Samaritan, does let my name stand in a rather empty wasteland stating “Deleted by blog administrator” giving the impression to all his other readers that I am a … please do choose choice words from a lavish selection this Monday morning and lunch time alone. These are mostly readers who don’t even know who I am, mud slingers, stirrers who take John’s word for what he tells them.

I am not interested in commentators/sheep blindly following the leader; I am questioning the ethics of a man who employs double standards. So, and sorry to hammer this home by way of repeat: He claims he doesn’t let personal attacks stand, yet lets personal attacks stand – as long as they are addressed at me.

What’s your take on what, to me, is incomprehensible, not to be justified, not anything other than a declaration of being morally bankrupt?

U

March 18, 2018

Writing on the Wall

I have just eaten an apple. It’s what I do in my spare time.

The apple was fairy tale red, crunchy to the point of hard. I am inconsolable to report that unlike Snow White no piece of apple lodged in my throat. I am alive and typing. I do appreciate the grief this will cause some inhabitants of blogland. Imagine I’d fallen asleep for one hundred years.  The good news that no prince is required to kiss me back into full bloom.

I eat my apples, always have, core and all, right down to the woody bit which even I find unappealing. In pensive moments one of my mother’s more dire warnings – about how best to avoid misfortune – pops into my mind. Namely, that if you eat and swallow an apple’s pips they either (depending on her mindset on the day) log into one of your organs and you’ll have to have your appendix out (don’t say my dear sweet mother didn’t approach her teachings in a scientific way) or, and this was and still is, more disconcerting, those pips will take root and you have apple tree shoots coming out of all your face’s orifices; your mouth and ears, she never mentioned my nose (she did have limits; I do need to breathe), for all the world to see that you have eaten, despite stern advice against the practice, apple pips. Who needs a vengeful all seeing god when all you need are pips?

Do my readers have their own little attempts at pulling the wool over our big eyes to share, not least those which left you feeling exposed to forces of nature you weren’t able to fight when a child – other than, obviously, NOT swallowing apple pips.

Sunday greetings,

U

 

March 15, 2018

The Alternative Comment Box, The Long View – Congestion

John, miserable Joy and charmless Sculptor, do not fear: I haven’t forgotten you. If you were baked to my heart you couldn’t be closer to me during my waking moments. Once you’ll infiltrate my nightmares I will throw in the towel. Three, actually. Freshly washed.

It’s fun, isn’t it, Sweethearts, when the delete button isn’t yours to press. When you can’t edit your blogging life’s and comment boxes’ narrative. When someone can say anything they like about you to their heart’s content. Taking the piss. You do have my sympathy.

Please do bear with me. This morning’s missive the longest post ever. Not yet sent as life has a way of distracting me from the least important. Pity, since the post so awfully long, and so awful, twelve hours on I have to crank myself up to read it over, before pressing “publish”, the editor having clocked off early.

In further good news, I know I promised only thirteen (in words: 13) entries to The Alternative Comment Box. Alas, not all promises can be kept – being of a generous nature I dare say, rough guess, you can look forward to a few more before the finals.

Hugs, hisses, lots of fresh air, as ever,

U

 

 

 

March 14, 2018

The Alternative Comment Box, 12 – Feedback

Filed under: Communication,Errors,Ethics — bitchontheblog @ 13:11
Tags: , ,

The Alternative Comment Box is coming to an end – not quite there yet. Nearly.

Let me express my regret at my role in that which largely didn’t so much unfold as was allowed to avalanche.

That I am combative, sometimes even antagonistic, that I like to provoke, tease the substance out of people, is hardly a secret. It’s what I do. It’s what some people in my life appreciate, it’s what some people in my life are amused by, it’s what keeps me on some payrolls, it’s what some people in my life tolerate with a shrug of their shoulder and accept for what I am; and then there are the exceptions – certain bloggers and their sycophantic readers.

Remember, only repeating myself as I feel that so much social media encourages that scourge of our time, namely a short attention span – I do take and accept responsibility for my role in what went wrong in my communication within the circle to which John, Joy and the Sculptor belong.

Do any of you take responsibility for your own role in our communication gone so terribly wrong? You don’t truly believe it’s all my “fault”, do you?

What is so sad so sad so sad so sad that I gave and give you every chance to let rip. To tell me what angered you so much about me. What made you foul mouth me without giving me any chance of recourse (remember your delete button shutting me up?). Why can’t you stand up for yourselves and stand up to me by actually telling me how YOU see it? Instead you do the worst, and by golly haven’t you found my Achilles Heel, you just keep shtumm. Giving me the silent treatment.

Yeah. Giving me the silent treatment. If you or anyone else wants to reduce me to shreds give me the silent treatment. Nothing else is as effective in terms of attempts at breaking my spirit. So, full marks there for having found my Achilles Heel.

I ask you, and this is not an exercise in justifying yourself as I do not justify myself; I ask you, for pity’s sake, do tell me how you see it/me.  No barrels held. Just say it. No criticism you can lay at my door will be harsher than criticism that, over a lifetime, has been laid at my door already. Courage, Joy; Courage, Sculptor; Courage, John – no need to hide under cover of Mr Nice Guy.

I will take whatever you have to say with grace. My main mission in life is to learn; we can look in the mirror as much as we like, no one holds a mirror up to us more effectively than those who see us as we can’t see ourselves. That goes for me, that goes for you, it goes for all of us.

I’d be grateful if the three of you, each in their own way, would meet me in my quest somewhere on the way.

And, last but not least, those of you other than the addressed above, those who know me with few or none swords crossed, maybe just quiet observers, please do tell me what YOU think of my conduct in blogland.

Communication, open channels, they are everything to me.

U

Next Page »

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.