You know I work in Aarhus now, right? New job. New type of school. New subject. It’s pretty ok. I really like it there and I like working hard, so it is good. I am culture shocking pretty hard because it is more like what I was used to in the UK and less like what I have become used to in Denmark. Not better or worse, mind, just different. But you know. Different. Hence, culture shock.
What struck me as I reported for my first day at work, is that they have a supply of Copenhagen Post on the table in the waiting area. I took a look and it is not a recent issue and not one that contains anything of mine. Not that I am ashamed or NUFFIN but yeah, I have never started a new job before and been confronted with a publication that I contribute to.
I am sure, even if parents, colleagues, students google me and find what I have written for the University Post and Copenhagen Post; they are unlikely to take umbrage with me. I am not looking for a fight, I am just speaking my brains a bit.
Then I think, oh shit though, there is a link to this. I think only really stupid people get upset with me (because of speed reading), which is great because none of the people I have contact with professionally are stupid and they all take their time to digest even subtle points to avoid taking premature offense. But again, it’s fine, I haven’t said anything here I am ashamed of. And swearing notwithstanding (which has to come out somewhere, I say “OH SUGAR” like a 60 year old verger when I sustain painful injuries at work), I would be happy to repeat any of my views to anyone in my life. It is simpler that way, to run everything through a “would I be happy for this to get out?” filter.
Most people are surprised the erstwhile diseased state of my cervical os made it through the filter. Whereas I am more surprised how honest I am about how mean people get to me. I should keep that shit to myself!
I have gone out socially before and had a stranger say that they read my blog. This has happened a handful of times, so I guess I’m kind of a big deal(!) (Palahniuk says you aren’t famous for fifteen minutes, you’re famous to fifteen people and I tend to agree). I had a student from the old school say that they read my blog.
Social interactions with new people are hard for me and so starting at a new workplace is always fraught as I get the measure of new people. I had no idea what it might feel like to throw “some of them might be familiar with my body of work” into the mix. Shit man, I’m not famous. But Mads Christensen has read a post of mine, so all bets are off. (My boyfriend was really proud about that, not because a D-list sockmonger had read that I called him an unfunny jerk but because my boyfriend’s favourite tech site linked to me doing it. He sometimes says “How’s the blogging going?” like it might happen again, as if my usual topics are what sets the world alight. As if it wasn’t a fluke. He’s not interested enough to actually read my blog either, so that should be his answer. (He read it once, after saying he didn’t read it, and then when we were really drunk, he brought up the occasion where I referred to him obliquely and he recognised himself. I said “Bitch, please. I’d say that to your face. I HAVE said that to your face.”) Maybe he does read it, just to see if I write about him anymore. Hi! You got me.)
Maybe new people at work are shy because they are just shy or maybe because they are worried I will rip them a new one on here. Now, the rules are, for the people who read this and find themselves newly my colleague:-
1) I will not make you identifiable. I will never give your name or job description. I will not describe how you look well enough that someone could recognise you from this. I may even change your gender or age or some other identifying characteristic to preserve your privacy.
2) I will only write about you if you are absolutely fucking egregious and you have gone beyond the pale. Or, if you are amazing and I love you and you COMPLETE ME by just being you. If you’re just some guy, I’m not going to bother my arse with you here. I think you’re swell, obviously. But “swell” isn’t what gets words to march across the screen.
3) I tend not to write about individuals anyway beyond “I was having a chat with some guy and the following topic came up”. If I claim “this guy” did x,y,z then most likely I met a handful of guys who did very similar, if not exactly the same, things.
4) Just say “Oh, I think I read something you wrote?” and then frown at me. I will NEVER write about you, guaranteed. Unless you are my boyfriend. THEMS THE RULES.
Oh and also, unrelated, I saw two adverts for a drink. I will not name them here because, fuck them, so let’s call them “Cunt Shaper”. There are two I have seen. One of is of a “ninja” and his eyes are slitty, even though, what the actual fuck? Another is of a black-face “cannibal”, with a spear, grass skirt and a bone in his hair.
I would take a photo but I am so fucking sick of lazy fucking advertising fucking wankers taking advantage of the outrage cycle and playing up to this sort of thing to be “edgy” and then claiming the irony/humour/unpolitically correct card.
They are manipulative fucks, is what they are. When I think of all the people I have loved who have got horrible diseases and died, I think “Why would you waste your precious short lives making the world a shittier place and then saying ‘Don’t you have a sense of humour?’ Like an entitled prickface.”
If their aim is to go viral, then fine. Fuck you. You pissed me off but I’m not playing. I’m out.
I wish I could draw because what I would draw is a pig-faced, mouth breathing scumbag with his stupid tight purple jeans tucked into his tennis socks, wearing those stupid converse shoes that fall apart within a day and are rubbish in the snow, whilst looking like a smug but stupid twat. That’s what I would draw. Look how clever I am for bullying people whose family tree is more of a hedge! He’d have a stupid fucking scarf on over his tshirt too. Wanker.
Anyway. Fuck outrage. And fuck stupid jerks. I never drank your stupid drink anyway. I am not even sure what it contains.
Which brings me to my final point. I would quite like to see “Django Unchained”, in a “Inglorious Basterds” was okay I guess in a stupid way way. But I cannot see it in a country where drinks are openly advertised with black-face racial caricatures. Because I just know how much they* will laugh and slap their thighs. I know they will drop the N-bomb 25% more than they did because “they” use it. I just know they will go to their next party in black face (complete with grass skirt, bone and spear). I just know they will watch it and think “Yeah, negros ARE the worst. I am so lucky I am not a nigger.”
So, I cannot watch it here.
*By “they”, I of course mean the mouth breathing scumbags that run around in this country unchecked and *not* the nice people who stay silent but otherwise have nothing to do with the fuckwittery the jerkass racist “it’s just a joke” brigade are famous for.