I, the wimp.

Of all the people in all the world I think that I must be the wimpiest.  I think this because people tell me I’m a wimp.  Therefore I believe that I’m a wimp.  And because I like to have the monopoly on everything I must be the wimpiest of all wimpy folk. 

I applied for the other position.  I was offered an interview.  I withdrew at that point. 

Ms. Hippy called me a wimp.  She said that I worry too much.  She hurt me, inside, although I laughed and twisted it to my advantage.  But she’s right, to an extent.  However, I withdrew from the process because I realised that I really don’t want to leave, not because I was worried about having an interview.  Apart from the fact that I’m getting my own office from September, plus a stonkingly huge leather chair and a brand new computer, there’s also the fact that I have an abundance of friends at work and I do care about the spotty oiks that I have to run after.  The reasons I had for wanting to leave were not the right reasons and in retrospect I can see that they were merely excuses for running away from inevitable change. 

If I don’t want change forced upon me why am I so prepared to actually force it on myself?

So, I’m turning the wimp issue around. 

The wimp has turned.

Running away is not an option for me anymore.  This is the longest I’ve ever worked anywhere and I’m not going to throw away the friendships I have, and the relationships I’ve developed with the kids, just because I don’t want the change that’s being thrust upon me.  Change occurs so regularly – albeit not on such a big scale – at work that it would be silly not to sit this through and ride the storm.  Calm will reign again, soon.  And at this moment in time the wimp feels strong.  And happy.  Going through the process of applying for other jobs has made me more positive about the role I have now, and that can only be a good thing. 

Gosh, I almost sound like I’m growing up.

Besides, I would miss the incidents involving knives and policemen and handcuffs.  And the bitchy gossip.  And the pulling down of walls.  And the screaming.  And the teaching of Maths [I learnt what an improper fraction is today – go me!] …

Yesterday I danced to Happy Hardcore in a 1-1 ICT lesson with Gobby Cow, making her laugh. And I knew that I had made the right decision to stay put.

please God bless the wimp xxx Elsabeth


“We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another.”

This is a message for Linc4Justice, which I’m not actually going to send to him because he’s an idiot and not worthy of me in his life.

dear lincoln,
hi.  i obviously upset you with my comment on ********_****s xanga.  i would apologise but my head is so far up my donkey that i just can’t be bothered.  i didn’t actually mean to offend anyone, and i believe that most of what i said was perfectly legitimate, if a little distant from your own personal view.  it seems a tad excessive of you to call me a ‘wanker’ though for putting my point across when i’m sure a more direct approach would have been quite sufficient.  but thanks anyway, you’ve restored my faith in human nature, tolerance, understanding, empathy … and now, knowing that people like you exist in the world, i’m so much more less scared.
best wishes, katie finger.

There are times when I become most irked with some folk on Xanga.  I fully expect that some people become irked by me too.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Where is the fun in having people agree with you all the time?  Where is the fun in trying to better yourself because of what you read, or trying to better other people because you think that maybe you can change their skew-y view, even though you may be the first to admit that your view on most things is decidedly more skew-y than theirs will ever be? 

I refuse to nod my head in agreement when I don’t agree.  Usually I’ll let off a bit of steam thinking about a comment, without actually posting it.  Other times I’ll toddle off to visit my Secret Place and tell you what I really think without actually telling you. 

Because I’m a wimp.  Yessir, I’m a wimp.  But sometimes, just sometimes, I feel the need to speak out.  So I did, and it was misconstrued, and Our Friendly Lincoln decided that he had nothing better to do than call me names and spout hate [not just upon me, although I fear that if God is Our Friendly Lincoln then I am definitely damned to a life of abject hell] and he couldn’t even be fussed to come here and do it. 

There are some people on here who I don’t agree with quite a lot, but this doesn’t stop me liking them, it doesn’t stop me from respecting and admiring them, and it certainly doesn’t stop me from telling them, albeit in a subtle way. 

You can put so much time and energy into some online relationships, to the extent that you hope that people know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t dream of deliberately hurting or offending someone.  Some people just aren’t interested in hearing your views though, and the simplest comments can be twisted and churned up violently till they represent something they weren’t ever meant to represent. 

There is too much hate in this world … it seems ironic that someone would hate me for wanting peace and love and for considering the situations from all points of view in an unselfish and humane way.

Oh! And hey!  I got my computer back.  No more bloody laptop! 

*slinks off to check those dastardly emails that have piled up haphazardly in one corner of this idealistic world*

[this post was brought to you in association with all those people in the western world who perpetuate the myth that all westerner’s are vile creatures who deserve what’s coming to them]

please God bless me for I have sinned xxx Elsabeth