(no subject)
I'm only updating this morning because I'm going on Nadine's show to talk about my uneasy relationship with whatever it is I am keeping here. It's not that I don't mean to update, it's that I don't really have time, or I feel like I would prefer to write something with more of a focus, even though I quite enjoy having this LJ as a brain dump. Someday.
I'm also kind of tired of my own righteous indignation. Sure, in small doses, it's fine, but I'm actually sort of bored of it. I should not be encouraged to rant -- even on a good day, I'm a hair trigger. I'm one rude shopworker away from I Know You Hate Your Job But Don't Take It Out On Me, I Worked In Shitty Retail, Too or I'm just one run red light away from Drivers Have No Awareness That A Car Is A Deadly Weapon And The Gardai Don't Give A Crap About Safety or I'm just one touch in my no-no place away from Now That's What I Call Feminist Rage or one more fucking bus journey before my final If You Keep Chewing That Nasty Fucking Gum In My Ear I Am Going To Rip Out Your Goddamn Tongue And Then You Will Be Sorry. I am in real danger of disappearing up my own rant-hole. Sometimes it's fine to rant. The retail sector is undeniably rude. No one would argue that the gardai are in any way effective or that drivers are not maniac and totally bananas. Everyone knows that shaking hands with a lady is perfectly adequate as a gesture of introduction, and that you might want to wait for an invitation before you put your clammy fucking hands near her boobies. And finally, anyone with any sense knows that if you chew in someone's ear or face for long enough, you get what you deserve. A good rant is cathartic, and sure, no one is being forced to read it, but I feel like too much of a good thing can turn me into the sort of judgemental person that I am not. I'm also not entirely sure that, as a complete and utter fucking neurotic, I should have an outlet for this sort of thing.
It is for the same reason I can't have TV: as long as I work at home, I cannot have any temptations to give into my cheap, petty urges. I can't have TV because when I watch TV, good Christ, I don't want to learn anything. I learn shit for a living, so when I turn on the telly, I not only want zero intellectual stimulation, I want to un-learn shit I already knew. The urge to watch Celebrity Big Brother and then write a 2000-word treatise on Race and Class in The Big Brother House -- that urge is almost irresistible even without television, and anyway, I've seen the YouTube video of Jack further soiling Jade's thigh. While that certainly represents all that Big Brother is, distilled and reduced to its, um, essence, and is really all one needs to see to get the gist of it, once I've had a taste, I can't get enough garbage.
Righteous indignation and trash TV -- it's all just too much, and there's a big world out there. Isn't there?
Oh, fuck.
Oh god, I miss TV. Please send TV.
I'm also kind of tired of my own righteous indignation. Sure, in small doses, it's fine, but I'm actually sort of bored of it. I should not be encouraged to rant -- even on a good day, I'm a hair trigger. I'm one rude shopworker away from I Know You Hate Your Job But Don't Take It Out On Me, I Worked In Shitty Retail, Too or I'm just one run red light away from Drivers Have No Awareness That A Car Is A Deadly Weapon And The Gardai Don't Give A Crap About Safety or I'm just one touch in my no-no place away from Now That's What I Call Feminist Rage or one more fucking bus journey before my final If You Keep Chewing That Nasty Fucking Gum In My Ear I Am Going To Rip Out Your Goddamn Tongue And Then You Will Be Sorry. I am in real danger of disappearing up my own rant-hole. Sometimes it's fine to rant. The retail sector is undeniably rude. No one would argue that the gardai are in any way effective or that drivers are not maniac and totally bananas. Everyone knows that shaking hands with a lady is perfectly adequate as a gesture of introduction, and that you might want to wait for an invitation before you put your clammy fucking hands near her boobies. And finally, anyone with any sense knows that if you chew in someone's ear or face for long enough, you get what you deserve. A good rant is cathartic, and sure, no one is being forced to read it, but I feel like too much of a good thing can turn me into the sort of judgemental person that I am not. I'm also not entirely sure that, as a complete and utter fucking neurotic, I should have an outlet for this sort of thing.
It is for the same reason I can't have TV: as long as I work at home, I cannot have any temptations to give into my cheap, petty urges. I can't have TV because when I watch TV, good Christ, I don't want to learn anything. I learn shit for a living, so when I turn on the telly, I not only want zero intellectual stimulation, I want to un-learn shit I already knew. The urge to watch Celebrity Big Brother and then write a 2000-word treatise on Race and Class in The Big Brother House -- that urge is almost irresistible even without television, and anyway, I've seen the YouTube video of Jack further soiling Jade's thigh. While that certainly represents all that Big Brother is, distilled and reduced to its, um, essence, and is really all one needs to see to get the gist of it, once I've had a taste, I can't get enough garbage.
Righteous indignation and trash TV -- it's all just too much, and there's a big world out there. Isn't there?
Oh, fuck.
Oh god, I miss TV. Please send TV.