Of course, don't forget to tune back in here for everything else!
Saturday, 30 July 2011
Cycling to Paris
Of course, don't forget to tune back in here for everything else!
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
Gold Stars For Grown Ups
Life gives you little reminders in funny ways.
Today I got one in a queue.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that people in queues do not want to be queuing. In fact I think it's safe to say that anyone who has ever stood in a queue has not been happy about it. This evening I was in my third queue of the day: after the Underground ticket line, the Post Office, I was now standing zombie-like in the supermarket. I only wanted some milk, and the shortest line had three people in it. As anyone would agree, that was THREE PEOPLE TOO MANY.
As I waited, the checkout lady seemed to operate in slow motion and my mind sunk deeper into a pit of impatience. I watched the checkout staff distract one another with conversation. Why did they have to chat? The man in front of me had a little girl and I watched as she played peekaboo with the checkout lady. I smiled, but in my mind I wondered how long this was going to go on for.
And then AT LAST the man took his change and was turning to leave, when the checkout lady asked the girl, "Have you been good?"
The little girl stopped to consider the question.
"Yes! I-I-I....I got a gold star!"
The checkout lady smiled at her. "Did you now?"
"Yes! I got.... three! Three stars."
The queue stared at the checkout lady, waiting, watching.
The father stared as his daughter wondering what to do.
At the same time the little girl stared at the checkout lady, waiting for a response to what she clearly felt were notable achievements.
And so the checkout lady said, "Goodness! Was that today?"
Proudly, the child replied, "Yes... But also..."
And she counted out on her little fingers, staring up at the ceiling as she worked it out.
"Monday.... and then... and then... and yesterday..... and...... and..... TODAY."
"Well!" said the checkout lady, ready to wrap this up but not really knowing how.
The father looked nervously at the growing queue.
But everyone was looking at the little girl, who clearly had more to say on the matter.
"Cos.. cos... we get gold stars..." continued the girl, "but you have to be good!"
And so, the conversation reached its conclusion.
The relieved father led his daughter away, and everyone in the queue was smiling, looking a little dazed. Like they'd all experienced a moment of clarity.
The checkout lady gave me an apologetic smile as she scanned my milk.
"Well hey," I said to her, "One should always be proud of one's achievements."
"Oh yes, " she replied, "A gold star is a big deal at that age."
Then she added to herself, "I'm still waiting for mine!"
You know what?
We don't get gold stars anymore; nor do we give them out. That's because we're adults - we don't really need a sticker to acknowledge when we've done well. Or do we?
Unfortunately (being adults) we're all far too coy to shout about our achievements. That's kind of depressing, don't you think? Given we surely achieve a heck of a lot, being grown ups and all? We're so busy worrying, scowling, getting stressed, getting distracted, welling up with impatience in queues... what about the good stuff? What about that great feeling of accomplishment? The fact we are here! Doing what we do! Making life happen! Why do we forget about that?
Next time you do something you're proud of, freakin' well shout about it! TELL someone!
Even if it is the supermarket checkout lady.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Feel free to give yourself a gold star and shout about something you did that you're proud of in the comments. Anything at all! SHARE IT!
I'll go first.
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
The Shaken City
I landed in Wellington, New Zealand, just 6 days after the massive earthquake which rattled Christchurch so violently that the ground literally turned to mulch. I was in the country for a wedding but the timing felt very poignant, and it was a relief to simply be closer to home amid such devastation. The official death toll is at 166, and given the entire country's population is a mere 4 million, that's a significant blow and one which is felt throughout New Zealand.
My second night in New Zealand an earthquake hit Wellington, where I was staying, although I was so wiped out by jet lag I slept right through it. My dad, in the next room, said he felt the whole house rock backwards and forwards. It was not a massive quake, and it caused no damage but it was a reminder that something like this can happen anywhere, any time. Meanwhile, Christchurch was being hit by several aftershocks, which further threatened recovery operations. A third of the city was going to be bulldozed. Whole suburbs were going to have to be demolished, and rebuilt somewhere else. Can you even imagine such a thing? It was hard to mould this information into a fathomable, realistic shape within my consciousness.
There was a video which was being shown around the world the day after the quake, which featured a man being rescued from the rubble, groaning in pain. On that day, that small piece of footage touched something in me and made me cry. After that video went out the rescued man, a Christchurch baker, disappeared and nobody - not even his family - could find him. By the time I reached New Zealand I discovered via the national newspaper that he had been found... and that he had died in hospital from his injuries. It is small portions of the disaster such as this which are somehow easier to digest, and therefore break my heart.
Even those who were fortunate not to have known someone hurt or killed or left homeless by the quake are feeling the strain. As Christchurch's population flees the damage and spreads itself out across the other major cities including Auckland and Wellington, the demand for jobs, flats, and education in these places has skyrocketed. Trying to rent a flat may come down to bidding wars. The country's financial situation is under strain as billions of dollars is required from somewhere to rebuild the country's second biggest city. This year's Rugby World Cup, the international event expected to bring in huge revenue to the country, is now having to relocate its matches as bringing thousands of tourists to Christchurch is not going to be possible.
Of course, what made it so wonderful to be back in New Zealand while all of this was going on was that I got to experience that incredible community spirit that bonds the whole country. The news covered Christchurch above everything else, telling stories of generosity, kindheartedness, loss, sadness and the mind-boggling damage. There were interviews with people who gave suggestions on building makeshift toilets, strangers who were giving out food to families, and TV presenters encouraged support and sent their wishes to the city during every programme. 80% of newspaper coverage was focused on the quake. Every little shop, pub, school or church in every town across New Zealand were hosting fundraising events, offering profits to the city's recovery, or showing their support through positive campaigns. You could not walk down a street, open a paper, watch TV or listen to the radio without feeling an invisible pair of arms embracing everyone and pulling them close in this time of devastation. I have never felt this anywhere else - I accept this might simply be because New Zealand is my homeland, and perhaps others would say the same community perspective is found in their home country as well. All I know is that New Zealand might as well be one big city, because we're all in it together.
My second night in New Zealand an earthquake hit Wellington, where I was staying, although I was so wiped out by jet lag I slept right through it. My dad, in the next room, said he felt the whole house rock backwards and forwards. It was not a massive quake, and it caused no damage but it was a reminder that something like this can happen anywhere, any time. Meanwhile, Christchurch was being hit by several aftershocks, which further threatened recovery operations. A third of the city was going to be bulldozed. Whole suburbs were going to have to be demolished, and rebuilt somewhere else. Can you even imagine such a thing? It was hard to mould this information into a fathomable, realistic shape within my consciousness.
There was a video which was being shown around the world the day after the quake, which featured a man being rescued from the rubble, groaning in pain. On that day, that small piece of footage touched something in me and made me cry. After that video went out the rescued man, a Christchurch baker, disappeared and nobody - not even his family - could find him. By the time I reached New Zealand I discovered via the national newspaper that he had been found... and that he had died in hospital from his injuries. It is small portions of the disaster such as this which are somehow easier to digest, and therefore break my heart.
Even those who were fortunate not to have known someone hurt or killed or left homeless by the quake are feeling the strain. As Christchurch's population flees the damage and spreads itself out across the other major cities including Auckland and Wellington, the demand for jobs, flats, and education in these places has skyrocketed. Trying to rent a flat may come down to bidding wars. The country's financial situation is under strain as billions of dollars is required from somewhere to rebuild the country's second biggest city. This year's Rugby World Cup, the international event expected to bring in huge revenue to the country, is now having to relocate its matches as bringing thousands of tourists to Christchurch is not going to be possible.
Of course, what made it so wonderful to be back in New Zealand while all of this was going on was that I got to experience that incredible community spirit that bonds the whole country. The news covered Christchurch above everything else, telling stories of generosity, kindheartedness, loss, sadness and the mind-boggling damage. There were interviews with people who gave suggestions on building makeshift toilets, strangers who were giving out food to families, and TV presenters encouraged support and sent their wishes to the city during every programme. 80% of newspaper coverage was focused on the quake. Every little shop, pub, school or church in every town across New Zealand were hosting fundraising events, offering profits to the city's recovery, or showing their support through positive campaigns. You could not walk down a street, open a paper, watch TV or listen to the radio without feeling an invisible pair of arms embracing everyone and pulling them close in this time of devastation. I have never felt this anywhere else - I accept this might simply be because New Zealand is my homeland, and perhaps others would say the same community perspective is found in their home country as well. All I know is that New Zealand might as well be one big city, because we're all in it together.
My thoughts also go out to the people in Japan, who I know are dealing with something so incredibly awful on such an enormously bigger scale.... but I will not forget Christchurch, who still need our help and support.
What A Mug!
I still don't know whether this is one of the most amusing marketing errors I've ever come across, or simply a very, very clever sales idea, but this advertisement by Guangong Enterprises for a Will & Kate Royal Wedding mug has caused me much amusement this week. What's so funny about it? Well, look closely.
A part of me hopes this really is just a glaring oversight, while the cynic in me has begun to wonder whether someone is putting out a product with a difference, in the hope that it will bring them more sales. Mind you, so what if it is? It's very clever - I know I would be far more likely to buy this mug over a more accurate one. Whereas a proper Will & Kate mug causes eye-rolling and reeks of chintz, with this version from Guangdong Enterprise, at least I would have a jolly good chuckle every time I made a cup of tea.
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
The Big One
I grew up in a little town called Eastbourne, in Wellington - the capital city of New Zealand. As a child I learned all about my country's curious geology and I knew that the country sat on two separate tectonic plates. I knew that there is a major fault line in the earth's crust which runs directly down the centre of New Zealand like an underground spine. I knew that it was this fault line - part of the Pacific Ring of Fire - which created our volcanoes, caused geothermal geysers and boiling mud pools.
I also grew up in the knowledge that New Zealand has a propensity for earthquakes. Schools taught us all about them - we would practice drills where we all curled up under our school desks, peering out at our classmates to see if anyone had carelessly left a foot or a leg exposed. As children we were both scared of and excited by the whole idea of a major earthquake. Wellington was supposed to be particularly prone to quakes, and my class was regularly informed that given the position of the city, and with only two main roads heading north, if a big earthquake struck we would likely be trapped. For this reason we learned about stockpiling food and water. We learned that in an earthquake one should brace oneself in a steady door frame or under a sturdy table. The children in my class would watch black and white footage of the major earthquakes, including New Zealand's most renowned one: the Napier earthquake of 1931, which killed 256 people and flattened the city like a pancake. Afterwards, the teacher would flick the video off, stand before the class and tell us solemnly: "The Big One is well overdue."
Despite the very terrifying notion that we were waiting for a disaster which was running late, it was volcanic eruptions and tsunamis which concerned me the most. The idea of having a wall of ocean or a sea of lava coming at you seemed so hopeless to me, and by comparison an earthquake was less frightening. I knew you couldn't outrun a tsunami - we learned that in school - but if an earthquake struck you could at least get into a doorway. I would have nightmares about trying to outrun rivers of volcanic lava, and when walking along the beach I would mentally plot the best routes into the hills in case I ever happened to see a tsunami rise out of nowhere.
Besides, I was used to earthquakes. In Wellington there are regularly little tremors, and on a couple of occasions, there were bigger ones which rattled the ornaments in my room and got everyone excitable. Yet the Big One we were warned about never felt like a realistic threat. Then adulthood arrived, and I left Wellington, and then eventually I left New Zealand altogether. In the UK earthquakes are a foreign concept. Apart from those opportunities where I could share my own knowledge with fascinated Brits at dinner parties, earthquakes were no longer something I thought about. The whole threat of the Big One had been archived in the recesses of my mind.
And then in September the Christchurch earthquake happened. The second biggest city in the country (bigger than Wellington), Christchurch suffered widespread damage. The quake surprised everyone in its ferocity, but amazingly, wonderfully, not a single person was killed. It was one of those moments when everyone counted their blessings, and pulled together in what was a truly scary situation. Yet just as everyone was getting over the shock, and focusing on recovering from the damage, today's major earthquake hit. And it looks like the Big One.
Just 3 miles beneath the surface, it was big enough to completely demolish buildings, turn ground into liquid, and create absolute destruction. Of course I say these things because I read the news, but actually, I can't even imagine it in real life. At least 38 people are confirmed dead, but the toll is expected to be a lot more grim as rescuers search through the rubble of the city. Even the beloved Christchurch Cathedral - New Zealand's Notre Dame - was toppled and broken, a rather poignant symbol of how much this city has been hurt. A quake like this is something which not even I, as a New Zealander, can comprehend.
The one shining light through all of this is knowing that New Zealanders are hardy folk, and that kiwis know how to pull together. We are a country that is so far from everyone else that we are used to seeking help from one another. After all, when one part of New Zealand suffers, every New Zealander - across the globe - will grieve. I saw this happen at the time of the Pike River Mine disaster last November, when 29 men lost their lives, their bodies unable to be recovered. I didn't know these people, or their families, and I'd never even been to Greymouth, yet I shed real tears for them. It broke my heart. Other New Zealanders around the world spoke of their own heartbreak. Those are the moments you feel so far from home.
My heart breaks again today for Christchurch, and my thoughts go out to everyone who has been affected. I feel grateful that I am flying home to New Zealand in a few days for a wedding, because right now I want to give my homeland a hug, and to stand on my native soil.
Kia kaha, Christchurch, we are all here for you.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
More information:
A relief fund is still being set up, but in the meantime the New Zealand Salvation Army
are accepting donations. Click Here To Donate
To share information on those missing or people who have been located, Click Here.
For more information on how to help, or for those who are in Christchurch Click Here.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 |
| New Zealand's fault line |
I also grew up in the knowledge that New Zealand has a propensity for earthquakes. Schools taught us all about them - we would practice drills where we all curled up under our school desks, peering out at our classmates to see if anyone had carelessly left a foot or a leg exposed. As children we were both scared of and excited by the whole idea of a major earthquake. Wellington was supposed to be particularly prone to quakes, and my class was regularly informed that given the position of the city, and with only two main roads heading north, if a big earthquake struck we would likely be trapped. For this reason we learned about stockpiling food and water. We learned that in an earthquake one should brace oneself in a steady door frame or under a sturdy table. The children in my class would watch black and white footage of the major earthquakes, including New Zealand's most renowned one: the Napier earthquake of 1931, which killed 256 people and flattened the city like a pancake. Afterwards, the teacher would flick the video off, stand before the class and tell us solemnly: "The Big One is well overdue."
Despite the very terrifying notion that we were waiting for a disaster which was running late, it was volcanic eruptions and tsunamis which concerned me the most. The idea of having a wall of ocean or a sea of lava coming at you seemed so hopeless to me, and by comparison an earthquake was less frightening. I knew you couldn't outrun a tsunami - we learned that in school - but if an earthquake struck you could at least get into a doorway. I would have nightmares about trying to outrun rivers of volcanic lava, and when walking along the beach I would mentally plot the best routes into the hills in case I ever happened to see a tsunami rise out of nowhere.
 |
| Eastbourne beach |
Besides, I was used to earthquakes. In Wellington there are regularly little tremors, and on a couple of occasions, there were bigger ones which rattled the ornaments in my room and got everyone excitable. Yet the Big One we were warned about never felt like a realistic threat. Then adulthood arrived, and I left Wellington, and then eventually I left New Zealand altogether. In the UK earthquakes are a foreign concept. Apart from those opportunities where I could share my own knowledge with fascinated Brits at dinner parties, earthquakes were no longer something I thought about. The whole threat of the Big One had been archived in the recesses of my mind.
And then in September the Christchurch earthquake happened. The second biggest city in the country (bigger than Wellington), Christchurch suffered widespread damage. The quake surprised everyone in its ferocity, but amazingly, wonderfully, not a single person was killed. It was one of those moments when everyone counted their blessings, and pulled together in what was a truly scary situation. Yet just as everyone was getting over the shock, and focusing on recovering from the damage, today's major earthquake hit. And it looks like the Big One.
Just 3 miles beneath the surface, it was big enough to completely demolish buildings, turn ground into liquid, and create absolute destruction. Of course I say these things because I read the news, but actually, I can't even imagine it in real life. At least 38 people are confirmed dead, but the toll is expected to be a lot more grim as rescuers search through the rubble of the city. Even the beloved Christchurch Cathedral - New Zealand's Notre Dame - was toppled and broken, a rather poignant symbol of how much this city has been hurt. A quake like this is something which not even I, as a New Zealander, can comprehend.
 |
| Christchurch Cathedral, before and after |
The one shining light through all of this is knowing that New Zealanders are hardy folk, and that kiwis know how to pull together. We are a country that is so far from everyone else that we are used to seeking help from one another. After all, when one part of New Zealand suffers, every New Zealander - across the globe - will grieve. I saw this happen at the time of the Pike River Mine disaster last November, when 29 men lost their lives, their bodies unable to be recovered. I didn't know these people, or their families, and I'd never even been to Greymouth, yet I shed real tears for them. It broke my heart. Other New Zealanders around the world spoke of their own heartbreak. Those are the moments you feel so far from home.
My heart breaks again today for Christchurch, and my thoughts go out to everyone who has been affected. I feel grateful that I am flying home to New Zealand in a few days for a wedding, because right now I want to give my homeland a hug, and to stand on my native soil.
Kia kaha, Christchurch, we are all here for you.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
More information:
A relief fund is still being set up, but in the meantime the New Zealand Salvation Army
are accepting donations. Click Here To Donate
To share information on those missing or people who have been located, Click Here.
For more information on how to help, or for those who are in Christchurch Click Here.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thursday, 10 February 2011
A Short Scene From The Underground
It's 6.15pm on the London Underground. The Circle Line.
Two young lads are sitting side by side at the end of a Tube carriage, and having a passionate discussion. The lad wearing the beanie is confidently advising his companion on what he knows about the world. His mate listens, clearly fascinated.
I am sitting across from them. Though I am pretending to read, for the journey home, I am their audience.
Beanie: Like, prostitution for instance. It would be so much safer if it was legal. I mean, if somethin' is happening and you can't stop it, isn't it better to make it safer?
Hoodie: Yeah.
Beanie: I think drugs should be legal too.
Hoodie: Well...
Beanie: Nah, like hear me out man. Think of heroin addicts, yeah? They die because they take bad heroin. If the government gives it to them, then it's safe. If they're gonna do it, then why not control it?
Hoodie: True.
Beanie: I mean, you know weed? Most of that shit is sprayed with glass. Actually sprayed with actual glass. Like, dust. So when you smoke it, that glass goes into your lungs.
Hoodie: Shit.
Beanie: Yeah. So they should make it safer, and regulate it, yeah? Like, tell people the dangers, and stuff...
Hoodie: Like smoking?
Beanie: Yeah, like how smoking gives you cancer... so tell 'em what's what and they take the risks on themselves. But controlling it will make it safer. That's what they do in Amsterdam, and they doin' alright.
Hoodie: Hey, does your mate still live in Amsterdam?
Beanie: Nah. He lives in Germany now.
Hoodie: Yeah? What's he doin' there?
Beanie: He just smokes weed and spins decks and shit.
Hoodie: [laughs] Cool.... so does he like living in Germany?
Beanie: Nah, he says he wants to move.
Hoodie: Why, what's wrong with Germany? [incredulous] There's good food in Germany!
Beanie: He wants to live in America. Better money for beats.
Hoodie: [considers something] Y'know ya can't get done for speeding in Germany. There's no, uh, y'know, speed... Um, no like, speed... Y'know. You can drive however fast you want. I'd like to live in Germany.
Beanie: If I could live anywhere it'd be Japan.
Hoodie: Why Japan? Technology and shit?
Beanie: Nah, it's not that, it's like, they have no crime. It's a really safe place.... I mean, except if you're a woman.
Hoodie: [nodding] Yeah.
Beanie: Statistically, Japan has the lowest crime rate in the civilised world.
Hoodie: Yeah, 'course.
Beanie: Also it would be one place where I wouldn't have to learn a language.
Hoodie: You speak Japan? I mean.... like, Japanese?
Beanie: Nah, but you know, 70% of Japan speaks English.
Hoodie: Wow.
Beanie: And they have no dairy products.
Hoodie: Nah?
Beanie: Nah. And you know, like, how Britain is like, one in ten people have cancer? In Japan it's like, one in ten thousand.
Hoodie: Wow, serious? And that's from no milk?
Beanie: Yeah man, I'm telling you. Like, when you take the milk from the breast, that's it, that's all you need. And like, if you really can't live without it, drink soya milk.
Hoodie: Oh. So is that better?
Beanie: Yeah, soya milk has less fat for one thing. It's more natural. 'Cos see, normal milk is from an animal, and soya milk is like, from the seed of a plant.
Hoodie: Yeah?
Beanie: Yeah, soya has loads of vitamins and nutrients as well. And it has way less fat.
Hoodie: Like how?
Beanie: Like, if this much milk had eleven grams of fat, the same amount of soya would have, like, two.
Hoodie: Wow. Does it taste the same as milk then?
Beanie: Sort of. It's fruitier. Like.... let me describe this. [thinks] Ok, imagine herbal milk.
Hoodie: Uh, yeah. Yeah.
Beanie: It's like that.
Two young lads are sitting side by side at the end of a Tube carriage, and having a passionate discussion. The lad wearing the beanie is confidently advising his companion on what he knows about the world. His mate listens, clearly fascinated.
I am sitting across from them. Though I am pretending to read, for the journey home, I am their audience.
Beanie: Like, prostitution for instance. It would be so much safer if it was legal. I mean, if somethin' is happening and you can't stop it, isn't it better to make it safer?
Hoodie: Yeah.
Beanie: I think drugs should be legal too.
Hoodie: Well...
Beanie: Nah, like hear me out man. Think of heroin addicts, yeah? They die because they take bad heroin. If the government gives it to them, then it's safe. If they're gonna do it, then why not control it?
Hoodie: True.
Beanie: I mean, you know weed? Most of that shit is sprayed with glass. Actually sprayed with actual glass. Like, dust. So when you smoke it, that glass goes into your lungs.
Hoodie: Shit.
Beanie: Yeah. So they should make it safer, and regulate it, yeah? Like, tell people the dangers, and stuff...
Hoodie: Like smoking?
Beanie: Yeah, like how smoking gives you cancer... so tell 'em what's what and they take the risks on themselves. But controlling it will make it safer. That's what they do in Amsterdam, and they doin' alright.
Hoodie: Hey, does your mate still live in Amsterdam?
Beanie: Nah. He lives in Germany now.
Hoodie: Yeah? What's he doin' there?
Beanie: He just smokes weed and spins decks and shit.
Hoodie: [laughs] Cool.... so does he like living in Germany?
Beanie: Nah, he says he wants to move.
Hoodie: Why, what's wrong with Germany? [incredulous] There's good food in Germany!
Beanie: He wants to live in America. Better money for beats.
Hoodie: [considers something] Y'know ya can't get done for speeding in Germany. There's no, uh, y'know, speed... Um, no like, speed... Y'know. You can drive however fast you want. I'd like to live in Germany.
Beanie: If I could live anywhere it'd be Japan.
Hoodie: Why Japan? Technology and shit?
Beanie: Nah, it's not that, it's like, they have no crime. It's a really safe place.... I mean, except if you're a woman.
Hoodie: [nodding] Yeah.
Beanie: Statistically, Japan has the lowest crime rate in the civilised world.
Hoodie: Yeah, 'course.
Beanie: Also it would be one place where I wouldn't have to learn a language.
Hoodie: You speak Japan? I mean.... like, Japanese?
Beanie: Nah, but you know, 70% of Japan speaks English.
Hoodie: Wow.
Beanie: And they have no dairy products.
Hoodie: Nah?
Beanie: Nah. And you know, like, how Britain is like, one in ten people have cancer? In Japan it's like, one in ten thousand.
Hoodie: Wow, serious? And that's from no milk?
Beanie: Yeah man, I'm telling you. Like, when you take the milk from the breast, that's it, that's all you need. And like, if you really can't live without it, drink soya milk.
Hoodie: Oh. So is that better?
Beanie: Yeah, soya milk has less fat for one thing. It's more natural. 'Cos see, normal milk is from an animal, and soya milk is like, from the seed of a plant.
Hoodie: Yeah?
Beanie: Yeah, soya has loads of vitamins and nutrients as well. And it has way less fat.
Hoodie: Like how?
Beanie: Like, if this much milk had eleven grams of fat, the same amount of soya would have, like, two.
Hoodie: Wow. Does it taste the same as milk then?
Beanie: Sort of. It's fruitier. Like.... let me describe this. [thinks] Ok, imagine herbal milk.
Hoodie: Uh, yeah. Yeah.
Beanie: It's like that.
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
Ignore The Anonymous
Bloggers - how often do you get anonymous and abusive comments posted on your blogs? And to the rest of you - how many times have you read an article or blog post and found a nasty comment posted by "Anon"?
Those kinds of comments, I've learned, are called "trolls". Fitting really.
I read about this on the New York times website, after the article (written by one of their own staff) was shared by Facebook.
It's an excellent piece (which reveals some truly horrendous stories) and it reminded me that I have wanted to write a blog post of my own on this subject, after witnessing these kinds of comments on some of my favourite, highly-respected blogs.
Trolls are easy to spot. As soon as you come across an aggressively rude, no-holds-barred comment, you can almost guarantee it will have been posted under a pseudonym or (imaginatively) "Anon". I'll read the comment, look to the poster name, and that's usually when I'll roll my eyes and think, "Ahhh of course. Loser."
It ticks me off, not because of what has been said, but because of the anonymity of it. The fact that the is person is hiding and taking no responsibility for what they've said.
It harks back to the age-old retort, "If you've got something to say, say it to my face."
It seems that when you can hide behind online anonymity, you can get away with being unsociably rude or just plain mean. There's that tantalizing freedom of being able to manipulate complete strangers, speak your harshest views and hurt people, without repercussions. Basically, you can be an asshole without people thinking you're an asshole in real life. You can have your bitchy cake and eat it too.
It's a shame, because anonymity is helpful in many ways, and it also allows people to share experiences, advice and stories which are helpful or positive, but which they may not have shared without that invisible armour. We need the option to remain anonymous because - to a huge extent - it allows us to protect ourselves... but it also protects the trolls. So "Anon" has now become the pen name for bullies who want to have their say but are too cowardly to admit to it.
The way I see it, if someone has such a strong opinion about something, then why won't they stand by that opinion? If you believe in something so much, why not claim ownership of your words? I'll tell you why - because these people are either cowards who are scared of repercussions, or they actually just don't have confidence in their own opinion.
Either way, it's the same reason: fear. Fear of people disagreeing with them. Fear of backlash. Fear of being disliked. Fear of being found out.
I have had people disagree with my views on this blog, but I'm delighted to say that, to date, everyone who has expressed their views has taken ownership of them, which gives me the opportunity to consider their points in a reasonable way. (I know I don't post often, but readers, I appreciate that!) At the end of the day I would much prefer someone to wholeheartedly disagree with my perspective and open up a debate than to attack my views from behind a pseudonym.
Not that I'd be bothered if they did. The simple truth is, anonymous comments don't deserve any acknowledgement, because they have no foundation. Nothing to support them. They're posted in fear, and there's nobody real there to back them up.
So if you come across a troll comment in future, just laugh and remember those words were posted by some gutless little person at their computer, who doesn't believe the words enough themselves to actually represent them.
And to the real people posting real comments out there, in agreement or otherwise - I salute you.
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