Blanking, Blocking & Bitching

Posted by Dan | Posted in Blog, Misanthropy, Rants | Posted on 01-08-2014

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blanking

verb

The act of intentionally (and often obviously) not acknowledging a person’s existence. Similar to ignoring and not speaking to, but without providing the recipient with a preface or explanation.

The Tautological Mantra of the Blanker:

“I’m not talking to you, but I’m not telling you why I’m not talking to you because I’m not talking to you.”

Her name was Kayleigh, and we shared a carton of Ribena at playtime. {Can we skip the anecdote? I’m in a rush.}

Blanking in Popular Culture

Blanking in Popular Culture

One day she wasn’t at our meeting spot. I waited patiently as I finished my half of the carton, then decided to look for her. I found her huddled amid a group of girls. Upon noticing me, her eyes widened and she quickly turned away. I found this behaviour rather baffling so I approached and asked the back of her head why she hadn’t been at our usual spot (to no avail). Then I offered her Ribena.

Perhaps it was the temptation of a sugary fruit drink that did it, but she turned her head a little bit and replied: “I can’t; I’m not talking to you.”

“You can’t TELL him you’re not talking to him,” snapped another member of the group.

“Oh, sorry.”

I felt confused and uncomfortable, feelings which stayed with me the whole afternoon. The grief of losing a close friend  compounded by absolute bafflement as to why  made it impossible to concentrate on my finger painting. Had I done something wrong? I racked my brains but couldn’t remember being bad; I certainly hadn’t been told off recently. How long would this last? Was it one of those things people forget about after lunch (like the time Cherry pulled Vicky’s hair because she wouldn’t get off the swing) or one of those BIG mistakes that ends a friendship for a whole week (like when Ben ate James’s Wagon Wheel)? I needed to understand. When the bell rang for hometime I ran up to her and bluntly asked: “Hi Kayleigh, why aren’t you talking to me?”

She bit her lip, unsure whether answering this question was also forbidden. She eyed the cloakroom for an answer but there was no sign of her posse. She caved:

“I can’t talk to you because you’re gay.”

I asked what gay was. She said it’s when other people aren’t supposed to talk to you, and explained that yesterday Morgan had been the first back in after lunch and had proclaimed “Last person who sits down is gay!” Unfortunately I’d been in the little boys’ room at the time of the announcement, which meant I was now gay and we were no longer friends. Before we parted ways I apologised for being gay.

The following day I knew what I had to do: I shoved lunch into my face as fast as possible, ensured I peed particularly early, then spent the rest of lunchtime hanging around the door to the classroom. I clocked Morgan and a few others doing the same as the bell neared, but enough of the class were busy playing to provide me with a winning chance. As I waited, I wondered whether I also had the authority to announce a contest determining someone’s social status. Fortunately it didn’t matter, as at that moment the bell rang and Morgan & Co stormed through the door screaming “LAST ONE TO SIT DOWN’S GAAAAAY!”

I raced inside and hurled myself painfully into my chair. I knew the pained bottom was worth it as I looked around the room, triumphant: there were empty seats galore. I gave a knowing smile to Kayleigh as she walked in, which she returned. Some other poor kid became ostracised that day (because only one person can be gay at a time) and my friendships and social status were restored. I ensured I wasn’t late after lunch each day until the game was forgotten, and I had my Ribena buddy back for the rest of term.

I’d love to be able to look back on that encounter as one of those silly things kids do because they don’t understand the world yet. Yet I see it as the maturest instance of blanking I’ve ever experienced.

While initially painful and confusing, through honest communication the issue affecting our friendship was identified, enabling me to take the necessary action to resolve it and give the story a happy ending.

Adult blankers don’t allow that to happen. They know that even brief communication is anathema to their plans and would never go so far as to give a reason for their behaviour. They are masters of illusion, putting waiting staff to shame with their skills at avoiding eye contact and pretending not to hear you.

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Weird Al Has A Big Dictionary

Posted by Dan | Posted in Pedantry | Posted on 15-07-2014

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Just in case you weren’t aware: Weird Al‘s new album is out today.

 

{Although the line “you write like a spastic” made me feel pretty uncomfortable. In America that word carries quite a different meaning than here in the UK.}


As If You Needed Another Reason to Love Steam

Posted by Dan | Posted in Nerd | Posted on 23-05-2014

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Microsoft: “So we’ve made Windows 8. Basically we took all the elements that made Windows 7 good and crapped over them so spectacularly Vista actually looks like a decent OS by comparison. If you’d like to upgrade it’ll cost you £100, which I’m sure you’ll agree is quite reasonable.”

Steam: “We’ve designed a way to let you play Far Cry 3 at maximum settings on a netbook. For free.”

steam-os-planet-steam-logoIf you own a gaming PC, update to the latest version of Steam immediately. Then dig out a crappy laptop, netbook, home theatre machine or whatever else you have lying around and install Steam on that.

The latest update allows you to stream the game to another device on your network while utilising your gaming PC’s hardware. You don’t even need to install the game on the other device. Consequently I’m now able to lie in bed and play Bioshock Infinite with max settings in 2560 x 1440 on the same netbook which previously struggled to run Monkey Island.

Do it. Do it now.

http://store.steampowered.com/streaming


Seven Days With Depression

Posted by Dan | Posted in Mental Health | Posted on 25-04-2014

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Trigger warning: self-harm, suicidal thoughts

 

I’d been meaning to try out a new illness ever since the crazy times I had on the Norovirus, so when I was offered a week’s trial of depression I jumped at the opportunity. I’d never tried a mental illness before and was curious to see how it compared to the physical kind.

As only 1 in 4 people have suffered with a mental health problem I was looking forward to being part of an elite group, and had many questions about the experience. Would my illness be apparent to those around me? Would it garner sympathy like a broken leg, or make people tactfully avoid me like when I have something contagious? How would I know when it was ready? Would there be a period of feeling a little under the weather before the onslaught, or was it lurking around a corner waiting to hit me full-force?

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I Can’t Breathe

Posted by Dan | Posted in Blog, Mental Health | Posted on 20-03-2014

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When a friend asked me to be his best man, this was the first thought to go through my head:1795529_530268430422636_1035407866_n

“If I say yes, that means I can’t kill myself until at least next June otherwise they’ll be really inconvenienced.”

I genuinely contemplated turning down the offer for that sole reason. I knew I could handle all the other commitments; I also had no particular plan or desire to commit suicide, but this should give you an idea of how high up the idea was on my list of possible future activities.

Although I’ve never directly attempted suicide, the thought has entered my mind more times than I suspect is healthy. It’s almost always because of my inability to let things go: I still feel guilty, ashamed and embarrassed about (barely) getting into trouble as a child; unkind comments from a decade ago still sting and resonate with chimes of overthinking and overanalysing, leading me to conclude I am spectacularly hated and deservedly so; friendships which ended abruptly haunt my dreams and paralyse my idle time with regret.

I think of my mind as a rucksack I’m forced to permanently carry. Every negative thought, every bad experience, every worry, is another rock added to my pack. There is no way to empty the rucksack, and I’m lucky if I get to set it down for a few minutes each day. It gets heavier when I’m alone and is worst of all when I lie down.

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