I, Cynical, Do Solemnly Swear to Vent Cleanly and Without Specific Direction

I’m a bastard. It might sound like an odd sentence to begin a blog with, but it’s probably the best explanation of me that anyone is ever going to get.

Someone who believes in a lot of jack like the inner-nice-guy and I are not going to get on very well together, that’s putting it lightly. In fact… someone who thinks they are important – and take every opportunity to put that fact out there – and I are not going to get along. I don’t get along with a lot of people… something to do with the aforementioned fact of my bastardness.

There are exceptions – there always are – and there are some people I’m quite fond of, whether the inverse is true or not is another matter entirely, but hey. Kudos to them in any case; I know that I’m not a very easy person to get along with at the best of times… I don’t call myself Cynical for my charming demeanour.

Now… moving on from me a bit and my own quirks… here’s a shocker for you… I’m not too fond of idiots. Especially the special type of insatiable idiot that will. Not. Shut. Up. Or maybe it’s something else about them… I’m never too sure. But it takes a certain kind of idiot to get me properly annoyed…

Some people might draw conclusions from the blog above and a few recent actions – if they even look at this – but that’s up to them. They can put their own minds at ease in whatever way they choose. Putting words in my mouth on the other hand?

At that point… people can really go and find a ditch to go and die quietly in, possibly of corrosive acid burns… either that or irritable substances so strong that they end up scratching themselves apart.

I let a lot of things slide… I’ve had to, mostly because I accept it as an occupational hazard, but also because I just grin and bear it… I have been doing so for about two years now…

Here’s a little story… Back in the black-and-white days of 2013, about mid-February to be exact, I joined a small Skype group. There were about ten people in it if memory serves and it was a pretty chilled-out place which could usually provide a laugh or an idea, hell… it managed to provide me with a fuckton of motivation back then.

Then time passed… people left, some people joined, others stayed, I think the chat grew to about thirty, thirty-five people at time of writing. As happens… some of us didn’t get along… I stayed because that’s what I’d done for about a year. Hell… I’d be lying if I said that the chat has been one of the few things that has probably kept me at least somewhat sociable and connected over the time concerned… Then one day… those things that I decided to grin and bear finally got their say.

No drama. No long goodbye post. No farewell ‘so long and thanks for all the fish’, no.

Am I going to regret it in the future? Maybe… quite probably…

Am I so jaded as to think that the moment I go back in there, I’ll remember why I left in the first place? Why, yes… how did you guess?

And now I’m here… drafting up a post in which I’m venting and skimming over the details of how I effectively rage-quit a chat room… Jesus Christ… because that doesn’t sound incredibly shallow.

I don’t expect people to comment on this, I’d much rather they didn’t and this was just left here, with the thoughts and the last year or so contained in words, so that I can forget about it.

Just one small thought to end this on before I go and attempt to sleep… no matter how much of a bastard you consider yourself to be… there is always going to be someone who you would love nothing more than to slug them in the gut.

Done… Rant over.

You see that title above this post?

I lied.