I don’t think there is a longtime blogger who, at one time or another, hasn’t experienced at least one person who posts a comment that belittles the blogger for their perceptions, beliefs, or understanding. These particular comments are usually on a post that either hits on a topic “too close to home” and makes them uncomfortable or is so alien that they can’t deal with the concept and they are compelled to chime in with their .02 cents. They post a snipe or a flippant comment that is meant to exhibit their grasp of the situation, and as a by-product, their superiority to the blogger.
I write this blog really as an exercise for myself. I’ve kept a journal since I was about 8 or 9, and this is just an extension of that journal. The advent of computer technology frees me from self-censorship and lets me… well, be more me than one might encounter in real life.
A blog can be many things, but for me, it’s a place where I can be honest. I can also post things and have instant feedback from relative strangers who may or may not “get” me. Sometimes that feedback will be negative, and I welcome opposing viewpoints, especially when backed up by cold, hard facts. Of course, when someone just disagrees with something I have written, or worse, feels the need to feel “sorry” for my upbringing, well, then… I draw the line.
While I appreciate comments from the people who frequent my site (those on my sidebar especially) and respect their thoughts and comments, sometimes someone who hasn’t read much of my blog stumbles onto a post that prompts them to comment. A word to the wise though… If you don’t understand a little bit about me (my history, my experiences, hell, my previous posts) and post a comment that is not only ridiculously condescending, but completely misguided, chances are I’m gonna call you out.
My previous post about children does not come from some “hurtful” experience in my past, but a simple manifestation of a long-held belief that people, as a general rule, are egotistical, selfish, boobs with little understanding of the world around them. This isn’t a condemnation, but an observation. I don’t envy parents… it is a full-time job with long hours and a low return on investment. But I don’t feel sorry for them either… they knew the job was dangerous when they took it!
I can tell you, without reservation, that I have balls the size of canteloupes. There is rarely more than a nano-second pause between my thoughts and my words, which isn’t to say that I don’t think about what I’m saying. I just think a lot faster on my feet than most people do, so you can fault me for a great many things, but don’t fault me because I’m smarter than you. When it comes to the things that I write though, I know exactly what I’m putting down, because I’ve considered it at length before writing it.
All I ask of you is that you do the same before posting a comment.
6 thoughts on “boss of me”
I meant no offense by my previous comment, I wasn’t being condescending. I was striving for empathy, but clearly, I missed the mark.
I just wanted to add that I mentioned that the last post made me sad because, yes, I do remember being a kid. 🙂
I understood where you were coming from Pea. I miss the freedom granted by youth quite often.
Back in the day when I had a staff of writers on my site, it was actually my own brother who posted a belittling comment to one of them. And then he got in a guff because I sided with my writer over him.
We all have been through it, babe. We’re with you.
Those canteloupe-sized gonads should be checked out by a reputable doctor. Elephantiasis of the balls is a serious matter and you should not be flippant about it. Especially living on a tropical island paradise and wearing grass skirts and all that.
Your blog blows!!! j/k I get that shit from time to time – hell my own damn writers do it to me. But the good thing is I know where they live.
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