Here goes nothing.

Here we go. Blog number one. The truth of the matter is that I’m probably only going to be writing this for myself. A sort of self reflection or a method of venting my frustrations and opinions. Or perhaps one person will read it and consider it mildly more entertaining than Saturday night television.

Quite often in life you meet people. Some you like, some you hate and all those in-between, and that’s fine. That’s life. The difficulty comes when you don’t like someone, but they don’t do anything that is particularly hate worthy. These are often the people who you hate to be cornered with at a party, for fear they will talk about their favourite type of post box or go through a list of what is and what isn’t classified as a nut. (By the way, in case you were wondering it’s quite a few.) I had the misfortune to be cornered by such a person today in the hallway. I tried to look bored by fiddling with my key, looking up at the ceiling and staring at him without reaction to any of his convocation. The mistake I made was presuming he was as emotionally switched on as me. Whereas I can sense if a person is uncomfortable, he seems oblivious to the civil war breaking out in my head and carries on talking about a subject matter he probably knows I a) don’t care about, and b) I politically stand against. But wait, it gets worse. Afterwards I beat myself up that I dislike this person because of what he stands for and for being a complete bore. Your right, it’s a little cruel, but surely it’s crueler on his side, inflicting his inconsequential life stories on me?

The subject, in case you were wondering or cared, not that it matters because I’m going to tell you anyway, was the army. Yes, I know we need one blah blah blah, but I take objection to the mentality of the majority of people I have met who have serviced and find the armies moral codes questionable at best. For example, part of the skull shattering convocation was about twelve and thirteen year olds handling live weapons. Oh but wait it gets better. Some of these little cherubs of death have aspects of them which make them special, such as ADD. Oh wonderful! I can’t help but think the army’s main purpose it to provide a mother like figure to control their lives. Not to get too Freudian on your hidden cheeks, but quite often people who are attracted to the army are those who require the need to be told what to do. Making decisions for themselves is uncomfortable. I presume this will either offend or seem accurate by my one reader. Anyhow, that’s probably enough from me for now.