Bothered

Not sure if it is the time of the month or not, but things are bothering me.

Paranoia can get a bit heightened when I’m hormonal, I’ll freely admit, and of late I have been rattling cages a bit harder than normal, but I genuinely think some people are attempting to unsettle my equilibrium. Therefore, I have started muting on Twitter again, even though it flies against my basic principle of blocking out the whiny attention-seeking wankers because even they have a relevance if you want an objective viewpoint. I’m also genuinely disturbed by events off the beaten track of my main feed, which I keep trying to avoid but which part of me thinks might be about to become a contention.

Why is it that people need stuff like this in their lives to begin with?

I like my existence quiet and without Drama. Despite what some people might think, you should never go looking for trouble anywhere, because down that path both madness and self-destruction lie. My Spider Sense of such things is normally pretty sound, and knowing what I have gleaned in the four or so years I’ve been hanging around the Social Media Circus that Twitter can often be, you should never, EVER allow yourself to get backed into a corner, or not think really carefully before you hit ‘Tweet.’ It is really easy to see why many people simply won’t go there anyway. I’ll freely admit that if I want to talk about myself at length it’s the last place I’m going to go. A lot of thought goes into every 140 character slab. Most, of not all of it now is very deliberately considered for exactly the reasons I know most people just don’t bother. Friday’s events show that some people’s view of the service is simple: it’s a disconnection mechanism.

If you really cared you wouldn’t be so fucking contrary to begin with.

Anyway, I’ve written close to 12,000 words today of total non-fiction. I really ought to do some of the other as a matter of principle