Just me, if that’s okay.


Arrogance. I hate it.

It’s up there with being smug, which is why I can’t watch QI as it’s just a smug-fest. Big smug faces being smug. The audience laughter isn’t them laughing at the jokes on the show. It’s them laughing at YOU because you just could never be that funny, ever, and it’s just a big bukkake of smug.

I’m not hating on anyone who does, but fuck me in my humbley opinioned opinion, it’s smug. If I see Rob Brydon relax in his chair and do an impression then the TV is going out the window. Or I’ll do an Elvis.



I kind of link them together. Neither trait is attractive and if you smell a bit of it in someone it changes what you think about them. Especially if it’s born out of a need to feel loved or adored.

I guess, as a blogger I say things and talk about subjects which are common and understood but I’d hope that it’s not born out of a need to be loved or adored. None of it is to play to an audience. None of it is to make anyone think I’m something I’m not. I’ve always been vair honest about my depression and my feelings and always will. My blog posts are me shitting out my feelings and thoughts. For good or bad.

Fuck me. This post is going nowhere. But, I’ll carry on as I can write what I want.

I was recently called arrogant. Dunno what I said, or how but this word dinged in my brain. Am I? Am I actually Rob Brydon doing a Ronnie Corbet impersonation while trying to be witty, while all around get bathed in a spunkbath of giggles?

And if I am, then why doesn’t someone punch me? I’d rather take a punch than be called arrogant.

I’m a complex person, apparently, and I’ve been through a lot of arse, but we all do that. The arse thing rather than the complex thing.  I’ve never been through an arse, apart from that once, but complex isn’t a word I’d chose to describe me. Someone did, 15 years ago and it’s always stuck. And it’s been on my mind of late.

Am I complex? Or am I just me?

Or am I arrogant. Or does my complexity make me arrogant? Or what?

I have an emptiness inside of me just now which comes from losing a lot. I know I need to think positively but the voices of those around me who have supported me are now turning into echoes.

I know I need to think differently. I know I need to arrange fruit into a cock-and-balls shape more often just for a laugh. In Sainsburys.

I don’t think I’m complex. I think I’m just me and, like all people, we don’t always function at the full floom sometimes, but on a 60/40 ratio I’m quite happy being me. But if others see me as complex then what am I to say?

I’m not. I’m really not. I’m really simple. I want the same things as you and I want to love. I want to feel love and I want respect for all my honesty and knobbly bits. All the things I am make me who I am. And actually, I’m alright.

Or is that arrogant? Or too complex for someone else to understand?

Perhaps I am complex. Sometimes the simplest things are difficult to achieve.

Or perhaps that’s too complex to understand. Born out of arrogance.

Fuck knows.

Thanks for reading.


11 responses to “Just me, if that’s okay.

  1. I have, on occasion (perhaps more than one), been called something that seems so unlike me it has thrown me for a loop. Here are just a few, a bitch, strident, too masculine, aggressive, a man with a cunt, selfish, inconsiderate, and arrogant. None of these, of course, reflect how I see myself or how most of my friends would describe me. I have developed a strategy to prevent the pit of despair I can sometimes fall into while trying to unravel what could have brought on such a comment. I hold the feedback (most often univited) about who I am out at a distance and take a look at it, like if you’ve just reeled in a fish and you’re determining whether it is worth it to keep. I recognize that what has been said about me, most often says more about the person who said it than it does about me. Knowing that, I decide what part of that feedback fits for me. If none of it fits I throw it back into the sea and do my best to think nothing more of it. If some of it fits I will ponder it more and see if I actually care. If I don’t, if the fish is all bone and no meat, I’ll throw it back as well. If all of the feedback fits, well I might have some work to do. I, personally, see being complex as a compliment. We humans are simple, but are also complex. And being complex to me means that you think about the world, have experienced suffering and survived it, you have a story to tell. I have also noticed that people who have survived suffering often develop a confidence about them, a courage or authenticity that comes from surviving things like depression, that others with less of those qualities can mistake as arrogance. Those are just my thoughts.

    • Thanks for your comment. I’m going through one of those phases in my life, perhaps the last time I do it, where I’m reassessing everything and some things, words from others, have stuck with me. It’s what I do about them that count. And while I’m in a low mood sometimes some thoughts scream at me louder than others. If I am complex then yes, it could be taken as a compliment but I’m not seeing it as that. More a criticism and this is the problem with me. Sometimes I just take things to heart.
      Thanks for reading.

      • I completely hear you. There are days when I feel completely invincible and others where one word can shatter it all. I can always blame it on PMS though! My impression is that if you are taking it to heart – it is because you have a big heart. You care. In my experience, I have noticed that having a big heart is a wonderful gift, the down side is that I feel all things very deeply. I wrote in my blog about one of the strategies I now find helpful to get myself out of the holes I occasionally fall into – I think it’s the “Surviving an Attack of Working Mom Guilt”. I appreciate your honesty and your openness. These are qualities that are in rare supply.

  2. Not sure why being complex is bad. Isn’t that another word for interesting? I also don’t see what is wrong getting a little ‘love and adoration’ for your blogging. Does anyone genuinely blog to be ignored? I appreciate it if someone says they enjoy what I write and I think we all need to admit there is a little bit of attention seeking in every blog no matter how deep down it is buried.

    What I am trying to say is enjoy being you and stick two fingers up to anyone that says you’re doing it wrong.

  3. Everyone’s complex and noone can be pigeon holed. I often baffle myself. And we can all make remarks that might (however unintentionally, sound arrogant or smug or callous or whatever else). Doesn’t mean we ARE those things.

    • Very true. I think I just hear and focus on certain words that people say. The negative aspects more than the positive and this is what I need to change about myself a bit. Or do I? Do I change the way I think or do I just accept it and not reflect on it at 1 in the morning? No idea, but I’m trying to find out.

      Thanks, as always, for reading and for your comment.

  4. I’ve occasionally been asked by people (more out of curiosity, reall) whether I blog because of a need for attention. My answer’s always been the same. No, I don’t have a desperate “look at me” craving, but equally it’s lovely when someone takes the time to acknowledge or respond to something I’ve written. I have a need to write to process and capture my thoughts. Other people have a desperate need to get themselves on X Factor. If that makes me arrogant in some people’s eyes, that’s their opinion. I reserve the right to disagree.

  5. We are all simple with basic needs deep down, we just cover them in different ways which others then interpret as they see them. I wouldn’t worry about complex, as for arrogant only a worry if lots of people say the same which from what I see seams quite unlikely.

  6. My sister says I’m elitist and that I think overly highly of myself, which I find ludicrous given my self-confidence is barely as high off the ground as my ankles (I’ve waded through deeper shit puddles than that!). I don’t know why SHE thinks that *I* think I’m full of awesome-sauce. That’s her problem, not mine.

    What I do know is this: I’ve been through arse, too. And I’ve lived to tell the tale. And I have problems with Depression (the capital letter kind, because I’m not talking about a mood here, I’m talking chemical imbalance that requires medication to keep me balanced).

    But I don’t want to lie on the ground and struggle. I want to stand on my feet and fight for freedom. Freedom to be myself, to figure out who I am, to learn where I fit into the world. That’s where my blogging comes from, readers be damned (sorry, readers, but it’s true!).

    So all this self-propelled forward motion maybe looks daunting to others. Like, “Who the hell does she think she is, standing up and getting all feisty and whatnot? She’s supposed to be stuck in the mud, stagnating. That’s where I saw her last, and that’s where I expect her to stay!” And maybe when people see me looking up, instead of down, it appears I’m thinking of myself. And yes, they are right, I am thinking of myself, but not the way they think I am. I’m thinking of myself in that, “I’m broken; how can I fix me?” -sort of way, not in that, “Well, look at how great I am and how much I know!” -sort of way.

    Complex? Welcome to the human condition. Anyone with life experiences and opinions can be accused of being complex. I can live with that label. The other labels? I tear them off and walk around naked — just for now — just until I can write my own labels that are more fitting to how I view myself.

    PS. I meant “naked” in a figurative sense. I am not walking around in the nude. In case anyone was wondering.

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