Episode 1 - The Hate Files

With the holidays done and dusted and a little period of calm in my immediate future, I figured it was time to get back to my little blogling and you, my dearest readers. I hope you have slid your knees under many a heavily laden dinner table, entertained countless cats with sheaves of discarded wrapping paper and ribbon and rolled your eyes in silence several times as you try to explain to Grandma how her new mobile phone works. I myself have had a mostly uneventful holiday season. Maybe it's my age that's getting to me but I've no complaints with how quietly things turned out. 

Moving on. You guys know I'm a nice person right? I save kittens from trees, give children kidneys and hand out beer to the homeless. I'ma little prone to lying but everyone's got their flaws. The point is, I'm not as terribly acidic as my blog sometimes leads people to believe. A recluse, maybe. I have hibernated in my room for days on end, only to emerge, hissing and steaming, into the sunlight when my thirst for quality Ribena and the souls of the innocent cannot be ignored any longer. Slightly obsessive-compulsive - not an entirely inaccurate description. I like my files organized and my CD collection just so. But I'm not generally a b*tch [assuming of course that we are interacting a) at a reasonable time of the day and b) not behind the wheel in our respective cars]. There are things I strongly believe in - freedom, logic, tolerance. I do my best to voice my opinions without attempting to denigrate those of others. I recycle. I will listen, patiently and with a level head, to what you have to say. 

So here I am about to completely shatter the illusion. Reveal the man behind the curtain. Dispel the myth and dissolve the mist of the mirage. Because some shit just pisses me off and I'm not going to keep it to myself any longer because the internet has provided me with this wonderful (and wonderfully free) way of presenting these gripes to several (almost tens of you guys now!) people at once, as brief as that opportunity may be. Now I realize that other stuff has gotten on my tits before - see this post for proof. But the world has been kind enough to throw oodles and oodles of blog-worthy material my way. Thanks universe! You're a pal!

More stuff that ticks me off

- Airport noobs. Now I understand that everyone has a first time at pretty much everything. Sex, driving, considerate toilet use. I get it; some people are new to things. But at the airport, my patience wanes to nothing. Maybe it's the anxiety of flying; a subtle feeling of nausea that starts in that first instance when I think I've lost my passport [about 5 minutes after my arrival at the airport] which lingers and then intensifies as my brain sees through the distractions I attempt to occupy it with, like music and books, and realizes that I'm about to spend several hours in a tin can with wings, in the company of what seem like hundreds of shifty-looking strangers. I digress. Picture it, if  you will. Bags have been checked in, the line for the security check begins to form. There are people in front of you and behind you. You stare into space as your turn approaches. You somehow seem to completely ignore what the folks ahead of you are doing. You do not notice as they throw out their water bottles, bag their 100ml-or-less liquids and remove their laptops from their bags. It seems to totally escape your consciousness that each and every one of them is taking their jacket off, putting their small change in those little trays and removing their belts and watches. It comes as a total surprise to you, an outrage even, when the security guard asks you to do all these strange things like take your jacket off or throw away your bottle of Evian. There might be indignant words traded, grumpy noises made as you comply with their utterly ridiculous requests. At this point in your monologic tirade, you may notice something odd from the corner of your eye. Jaws clench slightly, almost imperceptibly. Frowns begin to form lines across foreheads. Frequent flyers are obviously trying very hard not to kill you and you're lucky because the only reason they don't is that it would only delay their flight further and after the long, cantankerous wait you've put them through, that's the only source of alcohol they can see on the horizon.

- Super happy fun blogs!! I never use punctuation lightly; it is a serious business. But those two exclamation points are totally necessary. You guys don't need me and my astute, articulate and highly entertaining observations to tell you that the world is a mean mean place. Bad stuff happens to good people and the rest seem to get away scott free. Often times, we look to others for the inspiration to carry on. There is hope and strength in knowing that others have suffered as you have and lived to tell the tale. Good news is always welcome and giving others a reason to believe that everything is going to be fine is a skill that few possess and even fewer choose to share. But by the power of Aphrodite's training bra, if I see one more blog spouting homemade, candy cane, sweetness-and-light I will quite literally pop a vein. I know life is shit and you're trying to spread joy and peace and love or some shit but the rest of us, the ones who live in the real world and, I hazard to guess, those who actually face real hardship like hunger, poverty, unemployment, abuse, neglect and discrimination, know that your constant, unrealistic expectations are simply that - unrealistic. They almost come across as condescending to those who are not, in fact, happy, hopeful, joyous and/or as circumstantially lucky as you are. Really? You dare to be unhappy with your lot? But there is soooo much to appreciate and make us happy in this world! Look, a daisy! Does it not make you forget your stupid stupid growling stomach? And does this kitten not make your selfish moping about being unemployed for six months seem a tad unreasonable? There is nothing wrong with being happy and there certainly is nothing wrong with writing a blog you want to write. But there is no shame in saying that things aren't always great either. This need to find something, anything to be happy about screams of a desperation, a fear that in fact, no such thing exists.

- The Times of Malta comments. There is nothing more demoralizing than hanging around the ToM website, specifically around the pages reporting 'Breaking News', and waiting for the comments to start pouring in. While I generally have little patience with trolls, on this website they seem to be the only trace of intelligent life. The ignorance, bigotry and sheer stupidity that pours forth from these comments is overwhelming. Long diatribes or brief little nuggets of 'wisdom', it doesn't matter. Every single one of those misspelt, often indelicately translated chunks of text makes me want to cry, strangle someone and bang my head against a wall simultaneously. In the ensuing delirium, I begin to wonder whether there is some carefully concealed plot driving all this. Whether there are recruiters, hanging around the main streets of the island, finding morons, handing them a keyboard and offering them money to type out their thoughts. And then the cruel, gruesome reality becomes clear. No, this is not set up. Yes these are real people and yes these are their opinions. There is, in fact, no hope for this sinking ship.

This blog was initially several pages (and several gastric hernias) long. So I've decided to break it up into three delightful installments! Stay tuned for more sweetness and joy!