7 posts tagged “rant”

After a horrendous day at work (to rephrase, "Dear boss, I think you're a fuckrag.") - I drove home in a slight rage.  I even bleeped my horn at an elderly lady who was driving 30mph in a 40 zone (well for fuck's sake - some of us have to get home to our wine).

And then, as I flipped the radio over to Radio 1 (on offchance, because I hate Radio 1) - Greenday's Basket Case was playing.

I was reminded of being fifteen, kissing my (then)boyfriend in his parent's garage - and swearing that I would never change.  I thought I would always have black dyed hair, wear hoodies with inappropriate words on.  That I would always have boyfriends who treated me like dirt, and worst of all - that I would never be good enough for anyone 'better'.

I have changed.  Back then, even at fifteen - I was a doormat.  It wasn't that I was naieve, or 'too young to know better'. I was quite simply a doormat. 

And now?

Well, today I told my boss that his lack of flexibility and poor attitude was about to lose him a member off staff that clients have referred to as "an asset to the company."  I reduced an account manager to a gibbering mess, after verbally beating the crap out of him for using the phrase "Can I speak to the real person in charge of IT?" - and subsequently saying "Oh sorry, you can hardly blame me for thinking you're a receptionist!  I've never seen an IT girl who wears blouses* - I just assume all geeky girls are lesbians!"

*(For the record my blouse was a chocolate brown sheer shirt, with tiny white polka dots, rouching at the back, a ribbon tie at the front and cute little mushroom buttons.  It is not a fucking blouse.  It is a beautiful shirt, and I love it dearly.  ...Plus, my tits look great in it.)

Am I a bitch?  Yes, actually.  But only when it's deserved.  And quite frankly, I like who I am now.  At fifteen (give or take a few years), I did many things simply because I wanted to be liked, to fit in.  I had a large group of friends, and sucession of boyfriends - and I was close to no one.  Now, I have a partner who (mostly, bearing in mind that he is, afterall, a man!) understands me.  I have very few friends, but the ones I do have are real friends.  I have cut ties with the sucession of (ex)boyfriends that I was clinging to.  Best of all, I genuinely don't care what anyone thinks.  I behave politely, and I respect other people's feelings - I'm not reckless, but I speak my mind and I stand up for what I believe in..  Myself.

I'm fully aware that my boss thinks I'm mouthy and outspoken.  But I am not disrespectful - I speak the truth and that's what he disliked.  He picked the wrong girl to try and manipulate, and very slowly - he's starting to realise that he may just have met his match.

You see - he might be a stubborn control freak.  But I spent a lot of years as a doormat.  And hell hath no fury like a woman who's been walked all over.

I've noticed something recently.. Well to be specific, I 'noticed' it somewhere inamongst the hangover ridden excuse of an Honours Degree education..   I was just too busy drinking cocktails and avoiding research, to find enough motivation to actually think about it.

Women in the media (I'm referring to women on TV and in movies, in particular)..  They get dumped.. Do they get even, or they accept that the relationship is over?

Sometimes.

Do they crack open a horrible expensive bottle of wine and drink the lot in under an hour?  Or do they call their friends and sob down the phone for hours, plotting the death of the culprit-ex-boyfriend.

Sometimes...

But first of all?  They eat.

And those who aren't shown to do it first, do it whilst carrying out one of the above tasks (or something similar).

Does that reinforce the idea that food = comfort?  Because to me, that tells us all that the way to cope with heartache, is to stuff a burger, three donuts and a tub of icecream down their necks.

Doesn't it reinforce the idea that to be alone is a terrible terrible thing, and we should instantly all drown ourselves in junk food and sad music?

Admittedly, after being dumped horribly, I have been known to eat an entire tub of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food, hidden under a duvet listening to Sinead O Connor's Nothing Compares To You.

 

I am part of the cliche.. 

Infact, when I first saw the Bridget Jones movie - I watched in horror as I saw this horrific drunken mess sing All By Myself at full pelt in her living room after a bottle of wine.  The torture of being dumped, being alone - can drive us all to be self destructive.  We eat crap, we sing along to stupid music, and we burst into tears whenever we see something that reminds us of him.  Yes, love can hurt.  But surely, we should be crying it all out, then moving on and getting on with it.  Not sobbing because we're alone, but sobbing because of what we have lost.  You mourn for the loss of a relationship, then realise that he was a bastard anyway, and you get over it.

But why is it that almost every single time I see a female on TV get dumped - I see her reach for comfort food?  Why do all the women in the media seem to fail at being alone?   

What's so bad about your own company?

I like my own company.  I'm perfectly capable of entertaining myself.  But, as much as I need some 'me' time every now and again - I like the company of a significant other.  I like having a man to snuggle up to.  That doesn't mean that I'm afraid of being alone.  It means that I choose not to be, because I have someone who cares about me, and someone who I care for.  If that relationship was negative, I would rather be single.

And that is precisely what I can't understand.  Why do so many women stick with useless men, simply because they don't think they can 'do any better', or that 'they don't like being alone'.  What are they so afraid of?

I've been in a long term relationship for four and a half years, and I can barely remember what it's like to be single.  But I remember spending alot of my time being single, wishing that I had someone.  Back then, I probably wasn't mature enough to realise that just because we're made to feel like we should have a man, because we're made to feel that men give women validation - that I didn't have to follow that example.

The media generally shows single women as either (a) striving to find a man, or (b) having lots of fun whilst dating numerous men and sleeping around.  A representation of a single woman who is not looking for, or dating a man (or men), is seldom seen.  In my opinion, this only reinforces the idea that to be single, is to fail. 

And in all honesty, a good few of my teenage years were wasted on dating useless men, simply because I felt the need to have someone.

Now, I realise that there is absolutely nothing wrong with being single.  You have freedom.  You have choices to make and opportunities to grasp, and you don't have to think about anyone but yourself.

How can that possibly be a negative thing?

I'm not single.  And I don't intend to become single.  I have a partner who I love and who loves me.  The idea of being single again doesn't frighten me.  But the idea of losing him is unbearable.  That's the difference between wanting someone and making do with anyone. 

Relationships require work.  Hard work.  But some relationships are quite simply doomed. and no amount of hard work can rescue them.  In my opinion, if you rely on a man for validation or you're stuck in a negative relationship because you don't want to be alone..  Then perhaps you would benefit from working on the relationship that often needs the most work..  The one that's the most important of all the relationships you'll ever have..

The one you have with yourself.

It's that time of year again..

Jingle bells, Jingle bells.. And all that cheery bollocks.

For those of us who don't start crapping rainbows every time we hear some dead old bloke blast out White Christmas on the radio..  Christmas is hell frozen over, quite literally.

And here's why..

1:  Office Christmas parties..  It's not big and clever to get hammered on cheap wine, throw yourself at the boss (or worse, the office junior), and spend the next 3 weeks at work wishing you were dead.  Plus, you know Sarah the office slut?  The one you were mouthing off about in the ladies toilet after your fourth glass of wine?  She was in the cubicle next to you.  And she's the bosses niece..  Have you sobered up enough to say 'disciplinary?

2:  Shopping..  It's like a jungle out there.  Women will fight, quite literally for the latest top/toy/whatever.  You need knee pads, a loud mouth and something to club the stampeeds of women over the head with..  Or, do it online.  And then whine when the top you bought for Christmas from ebay is three sizes too big and dolly you bought for your baby sister doesn't arrive until the 3rd of January..

Xmas tree

3:  Christmas trees.. They're big, they're prickly.. They take over your entire living room and they shed shit all over your lovely clean floor.

Decorations

4:  Christmas decorations:  All that twinkly-sparkly-tinsely-fairy-crap?  No thanks.  It interferres with my hangovers..

Mistletoe

5:  Mistletoe:  No great uncle Arthur, I don't want to give you a 'great big sloppy kiss'.  You're positively revolting, older than my Dad, and your nasty moustache still has Christmas pudding in it.  Fuck off.

Family

6:  Relatives:  You're tired, you're stressed and you're slightly tipsy because you poured more brandy down your throat than into the Christmas Pudding mixture..  Therefore, by the time the ungrateful, loud mouthed sods you previously referred to as 'family' have eaten the food that you spent HOURS slaving over - you just want them to piss off so you can down what's left of that brandy, and pass out on the sofa..

Kids

7:  Kids..  I love kids.  But they work one of two ways.  There are the adorable children who get SO excited about Santa coming, that they're an absolute delight to be around (if a little noisy...).  Then there are the greedy, spoilt little shits, who throw a tantrum because they only got FIVE Barbie Dolls and they wanted twelve.  The kids that tantrum and paddy until they're physically sick.  They're the kids that make it a nightmare.. And quite frankly, their parents usually need a good kick up the arse.

Cards

8: Christmas Cards:  The next door neighbour on your left side sent you one.. But the bloke on the right side didn't.  Do you send one to them both?  Do you think the bloke will think you fancy him if you send him a card?  But then if you don't, he might think you're being mean..  Oh, what to do!!  All this drama over bloody Christmas cards.. Here's an idea.  Send them to people you care about - and have a (cheap) spare box handy for all the smart arsed tossers who turn up with a card after failing to speak to you for three years.

Handcuffs

9:  Inappropriate presents:  No, your parents didn't need to see the six-speed vibrator that your partner bought for you..  Or the edible knickers.. Or the handcuffs..  These presents are best saved for AFTER the holiday - when you're away from prying eyes and younger siblings who ask if all policewomen have red leather handcuffs now..

ENOUGH WITH THE MUSIC!@#

10:  Music:  Having to deal with the overly-cheerful voices of dead old men and whiny tarts, who sing about snowmen, and love, and lovely Christmas-sy things..  Oh pass me the sick bucket.  The worst thing is, it's all so flaming catchy.. efore you know it, you're singing along to Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas at full blast, in lanes of traffic.. Looking frankly, like a total twat.

So as you may have guessed, I'm not really getting into the Christmas spirit.. Infact the only example of 'getting into the spirit' that I've ever shown - has involved the kind of spirits that you drink on the rocks.  

And for the record, if you want to find me this Christmas.. I'll be the one trying to cook a dinner in three inch heels, whilst explaining to my tone deaf grandmother that yes, my hair is naturally like this, and no, I am not as good a cook as she is. 

Then again, you might just find me hiding in the garage.. Necking what's left of the brandy.  Bah Humbug.

I had a strange observation made about me today.  I, apparently, am a habitual risk assessor.  Not a risk taker, but a risk assessor.

Surely no one fails to calculate risks before they take them?

For example, I would describe someone who sky dives, as a risk taker.  But, I would put money on them not taking that risk of falling however-many-thousand-feet through the sky, if they weren't confident that the risk they were taking was only very small. 

I don't gamble, I don't even assess the risk of it, I just choose not to take the risk. 
I don't put things or people I care about on the line, for things that matter less to me.

I don't tend to assess risks, I just tend to choose not to take them at all - provided I'm happy with what I've already got.  Why risk something you're happy with?
And I don't think this makes me a weak person, I think it makes me stronger.  I don't take many risks, but I don't feel the need to.   Why would you take a risk on something positive?  What makes people take risks?  Is it the rush of adrenaline, is it simply that they have something worth taking a risk on, or is it just greed?  The constant need to go one better?

To me, it's all about priority.  If you're prepared to lose whatever you're risking, then take the risk.  Because it is, afterall, a risk.  If you know you don't want to lose something, don't put it on the line.

I don't consider myself 'lucky', or 'unlucky'.  Infact, I don't believe luck even exists.  And I don't believe that 'everything happens for a reason'.  In my eyes, we make our own choices, and we live with the consequences.  Taking a risk is making a choice, but the result of that risk is not a choice, it's a gamble, and you don't always get the result you were hoping for.

The truth is, we're never happy with what we've got.  The grass is always greener.  And it's not always wise to gamble a good thing.

Image credit

I realise that it was perhaps selfish of me to piss off for over a week - to indulge in binge drinking and.. well actually, mostly just binge drinking.  I apologise for leaving you for so long, but did you really feel it necessary to leak all over my kitchen floor while I was gone?

I'd grown quite partial to your funny shaped buttons, and your tendancy to jump your way across the kitchen floor on a 60 spin cycle.  But you've gone too far this time.  Coming home to a swimming pool in my kitchen was just the last straw. I hadn't even left you turned on..

The second I can afford to, I will be replacing you with a newer, shiner model - one which isn't old enough to have regressed to pissing fluids all over the place.

I hope you rot in Appliance-Hell.

I like plans. 

I like to know what I'm going to be doing, where I'm doing it, and when I'm going to do it.  And usually, what I'm going to do next.  I need to know details and reasons.  I need things to be organised. 

(Yes, I'm aware that that's very slightly obsessive-compulsive, if not a little anal..)

Consequently, I hate suprises, and I despise lateness.  I mean really, really despise it.  It drives me utterly insane.  If I have plans, and someone messes with those plans by being late - God help them.  I'm not talking a few minutes, I'm talking seriously late..  I don't tolerate lateness.

See, in today's society, everyone is busy, everyone is rushing about..  Everyone has diaries, calenders, planners.  Almost everyone likes to know what their schedule is, even if it's only at work. I personally like being busy.  I thrive under stress.  But, when I'm busy, I'm organised - I can tell you my schedule - what I need to do, when I'll start, when I'll finish, and what I'll do next.  And lateness ruins my plans.  I'm left sat about, waiting to be able to do my next thing - just because someone didn't leave on time, or didn't stick to their schedule.

So people, don't be late.  It's rude, and it really does shag my inner peace up the arse.

I'm inspired..

And true to form, I'm going to rant. :)

Who do you think you are?

Have you ever heard your voice played back to you?
Have you ever thought, "God, is that how I sound?"

Have you ever seen a video of yourself played back to you?
Do you look how you think you look?

When you look in the mirror - you see yourself.  When other people look at you, they don't see that mirror image, they see you with their own eyes.  Something which you will never be able to do.  Unless, of course, you see a video of yourself - but then, it's not quite the same.  And if you pay attention, you'll probably notice that you look slightly different to the way you think you look - because you see a mirror image.

What if the way you see yourself is different to the way other people see you - inside and outside?

Have you ever had someone tell you something about yourself, that contradicts with the way you think of yourself?
Is that person wrong?  Have they misunderstood something?
Or do you simply portray something you didn't realise you portrayed?

In my opinion, you're never who you think you are. 
You don't look the same, you don't sound the same, and you probably don't come across in the same way.  Whether you consciously try and portray yourself as a 'type' of person, or whether you simply think you don't care what anyone thinks..  You never see yourself the same way that others do.
 

The only person who will ever see you exactly how you see yourself - is you.

You will never be the same in your own eyes, as you are in the eyes of the people around you.

Do those statements mean the same thing? 
Who knows the real you?  Yourself, or the people around you? 

What is more real - the way you see yourself, or the way others see you?