Unpopular opinion: personality matters more than looks
Unpopular opinion: murder is bad
Unpopular opinion: water is wet
Sorry, just highlighting all the unpopular opinions I’ve seen just to emphasise that what I’m about to bitch about is… apparently an actual unpopular opinion.
Contrary to the beliefs of countless people I’ve had the misfortune of reading about, what you show online is, in fact, a reflection of you.
Of course it fucking is. What you write online, what you post online, what you do online is all you. Of your self, of your behaviour, of your way of thinking, or, if you’re faking it, of your mental age. Particularly in an era where the internet has such a central role in our lives; we are literally the age of the internet… we are the age of meme. We are more ourselves online than we are in real life. We spend so much time on our computers and phones that we’ve been cultivating our online persona, consequently allowing the personality within our real, material, flesh prisons to remain stagnant. No wonder we all have anxiety now and can only communicate in (obsolete) vine references.
Right. So I recently encountered someone who pissed me off with her wrong opinion. I mean.. there are opinions, and there are opinions that are factually wrong. But then there are wrong opinions. Opinions that shouldn’t even be opinions.
I don’t normally hey assbutt about real encounters with real people, but I was ready to box her mentality. This person publicly broadcasted their snarky question of what a man has been doing all his life if he doesn’t have a house to his name by the age of 25. I was pissed.
You there, good sir. You’re 25. What the fuck have you been doing for your whole twenty five years of life, 21 of which have been spent either shitting your pants or being in education?
Ay you man, you’re 25. I don’t CARE that your grandparents weren’t millionaires like mine were, where is your house? I have four, you should at least have one!
Bruvva, we’re the same age, went to the same school, you got better grades than me; how come I’m a CEO with a family now and you’re still at checkouts? We all have the same twenty four hours!
My guy, you’re thirty years old and living on the streets, why don’t you own a house? Must be all the drugs you take!
I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve done a hey assbutt, aka one long bullshit rant. I guess I’ve kind of gotten my shit together in the sense that I don’t have the time to complain anymore, but alas; this part of me will continue to thrive.
Let’s talk about the L word. We all like to think about and not talk about the L word. We all like to talk about and not think about the L word. The L word is a stressful thing. I’m gonna do it.
To avoid confusion, I’m talking about ~romantic~ love. Gonna bump some MJ and begin.
Honestly, what even is love?
Platonic love is simple. One of the strongest feelings ever, because you don’t even have to like the person to love them, to care about them, to want the best for them and to be there for them always.
Romantic love is more annoying, but I haven’t properly felt it. I once thought I did, but in hindsight, I was terribly, inconceivably, dangerously wrong and it makes me nauseous. I have a good idea of what it is, and I would love to confirm it, but I’m not about to risk my heart for the wrong person. I, too, am cringing at the soppiness of that sentence so I’ll bring it down a notch right about now.
I want to start this by clarifying that I still don’t identify as a feminist. I don’t agree with so many aspects of modern feminism. I believe a woman can cover up and that it is NOT oppression. In some cases, however, it is. I’m drawing attention to that.
Before I wore the abaya, and even the hijab, someone once tried to convince me that women must cover up because we must be responsible for attracting men. That men and women are inherently different, and that men are more likely to be attracted to physical aspects of a woman than vice versa. Because men are dogs.
The only part of that I agreed to was the fact that we are inherently different, to an extent. And that has largely been the basis for me urging women to continue to be modest for their own sake; men, however, piss me off. Really, I don’t think all men are dogs. I think many men are respectful, particularly in light of how many men support the right of a woman to do whatever the heck she wants. It’s only the mentality of Muslim men that made me think ‘yep. Dogs’. Nonetheless, I agreed to that explanation and kept quiet. Because what could I say? Well today is the day I step up and say that this is fucking bullshit.
Sorry. After a long, long break following my dissertation deadline, I’m back and I’m pissed off.
I must have missed the memo.
Since when was the ability to speak English a marker of intelligence? Since when was it necessary for one to measure themselves against your bullshit standard of superiority in order to be validated? In my opinion, Germans do everything better, and Asians are some of the most driven people I’ve ever come across. So why don’t we measure intelligence based on how well we can speak German, or Korean?
‘Because English is an international language’, I hear you cry. SO????
Say it with me: YOUR ABILITY TO SPEAK ENGLISH SHOWS NOTHING EXCEPT YOUR ABILITY TO SPEAK ENGLISH!!!! LITERALLY JUST THAT!!! Not your intelligence, not your character, not your worth, literally nothing else!!!!! And then say it louder for the uncultured folk at the back.
English is not pre-wired into our brains. You have to learn it. You, a native English speaker, had to learn it. Whilst it may be hard for you to realise, those of you who say ‘lol you can’t even speak English properly’ were pushed out of the vagina screaming and crapping yourself and not being able to speak a damn word of anything until your fed-up mother began cursing around you and your first word was ‘shit’. And then you went on the rest of your life being able to speak English, only English, and you even suck at that. Do you even know how to use a semicolon? Do you know in which situations you should use ‘who’ and ‘whom’? Sit down.
You know when you’re with a friend, and she sees one of her friends and goes to hug her and then the friend greets and hugs you too out of propriety?
That’s my worst nightmare. If I don’t know you, DON’T TOUCH ME. If I know you, I’LL DECIDE IF I’M GOING TO HUG YOU OR NOT. There’s only a couple of people I’ll accept a hug from, and even when I do hug it’s not a proper hug. Just one of those lazy “I’m not actually hugging you but if I put my hand behind your shoulder and move to make it look like I’m half-hugging, it counts”.
You know when you have a guest and apparently it’s rude if you don’t get up and hug the relatives you don’t even know? I’ll stay seated on the sofa thanks, maybe even stand, but a hello will suffice.
But if I don’t know you, don’t touch me. And no, it’s not a germ thing.