Hatred: one of the strongest emotions a human can feel. It's right up there with love. Hatred can consume us, drive us, and convince us to do things that we ordinarily wouldn't ever consider. So what do I hate? Lack of consideration for others. I think that everything that's ever made me think "I hate that" fits squarely in the category of "that person thinks they are too important to consider how their actions affect those around them." This is probably more of a list of pet peeves, but these are some of the things that I hate.

Not Using Your Turn Signal
If there's nobody else around or you're not going to cut somebody off, this doesn't bug me as much, but when you're only three inches ahead of me in the next lane, don't decide that it's vitally important to share my lane without signalling and checking your blind spot. If you slam on your brakes after changing lanes, I hate you even more. I'm not sure if this seems to happen more in California because there are more idiots or because there are more people. Maybe those are the same thing. Regardless, in case you're one of those people, here's a quick lesson in how a US turn signal works. The signal is located on the left side of the steering column. Usually, the headlights are operated on the same stick, and you should already know where those are. Now, when you're going to turn right, push the signal up. When you're going to turn left, push it down. Don't worry, this will become habit in no time.

Cutting in Line
Let me explain a queue. The sooner you enter, the sooner you leave. You enter only from the rear, and you leave only from the front. You may have seen queues in action at amusement parks. The reason that amusement parks have them cordoned off is to keep you bastards from entering the queue from anywhere but the end. How we managed to evolve far enough to invent the television set and the modern automobile but can't handle waiting in a fucking line, I'll never know.

Egregious Use of Compact Parking Spaces
Go get a dictionary. It's okay, I'll wait. Back? Okay. Look up the word "compact" for me. My dictionary claims it means "Occupying little space compared with others of its type." Now look at your Hummer H2 (which you overpaid for, by the way). Does it seem to occupy little space compared with other vehicles? No? Then quit parking it in the spot reserved for my Neon!

Not Reading Posted Signs
This one happens everywhere. Why do you have 14 items in the express lane? The sign obviously says that the maximum is 10. Idiot. Why are you pounding on the door at 8:55 AM when the store doesn't open until 9:00 AM? Can't you see the hours posted on the door that you're banging on? Read those words. Think about what they mean, and wait for five minutes until the minimum wage sales clerk unlocks the door!

Agreeing with Ann Coulter
I accidentally agreed with Ann Coulter today. My coworker showed me this article but didn't mention the author's name. I should have known something was up, but I read it anyway. Give it a read. She's actually not sounding crazy in this one.

Oh my God, as I breathe1 I hate what passes for leadership in this country.

The GOP is doing their best to perfect Fascism, creating a dystopic blend of Orwellian INGSOC and Huxlerian Fordism, with a generous dash of patriotism. The group of idiots, sycophants, and assholes currently in power are tearing the constitution into thin strips and flossing their ass with it, and they are letting the Right get away with it.

The Democrats are no better, I hate their spineless posturing and indecision. They are willing to let this country go to Hell in a handbasket just to prove a point (I must admit to a degree of hypocrisy myself in this, as I think middle America can go fuck themselves for voting for this warmongering idiot). The jackasses complain about the situation without providing a solution2.

I hate the complacency of the American people, who watch their country being bought and sold under their noses, yet worry more about a boy sucking anouther boy's penis in wedlock. (I especially hate the complacency of Women, who truly have the keys to society and the most brains of the species yet let men get away with everything.)

I hate the single-interest groups, who tolerate the most atrocious behavior in their allies as long as those allies support those special interests?

I hate that I even need to hate anything, and I hate recognizing that I'm part of the problem unless I take the action to be part of the solution. (I hate that although I try, I could try a lot harder.)

1. I know, I'm going back on my promise to not talk about politics. Oops.
2. I do have a solution. Bush and his entire administration should resign (I'd rather see them dragged off to prison in chains, but I'll take resignation) and the new leadership take over. That way we gain credibility, which when coupled to new orders of engagement and policies in the region, maybe (hopefully) even enough to actually make a difference in Iraq and fix it.

Looks like I have a fairly good chance to grab my ideal job, at least at this point in my life.

Apparently, marketing companies need people to watch television for them. I can do that.

They need people willing to watch TV, record incidents of product placement, and write them up in an excel spreadsheet. I can do that, too.

They also need people to write pithy questions about the aforementioned product placements for posting on the company website. I can do that. I'm pithy. I can do pithy.

For the privilege of watching television in an office (an office that is, by the way, three blocks from where I'm sitting now) and drinking coffee, they're willing to pay me $14 and hour. They don't care if I wear jeans. Hell, the probably don't care if I wear shoes (ok, they might). They don't even care if I slack off if I'm not in front of the TV at the moment. Even with all that, that's not the greatest part.

The greatest part's the schedule - you schedule blocks of television to watch with a few hours afterwards to write them up. You get paid for the block, and leave when you're done. Blocks start at 5:30 pm, so I'd be working from 5:30 to midnightish six nights a week. I could sleep until noon every single fucking day of the week and still go out with people after work. I could have my kind of life, still have time to work, drink and write and still be paid decently.

God, I hope this works, cuz if it doesn't...I'm fucked.

That which arouses hatred, in my little world, breaks down into three categories: things that offend on principle; things that cause inconvenience; things that violate my sense of self. Moreover, in my little world, things rank in that order, from least to greatest, in meriting response. To be more clear, the things that offend me on principle deserve a measured and principled response. Those things that have violated my sense of self... well, if I feel like causing them physical harm, at least I'm too lazy to have done so, so I still get to call myself a "nice girl".

Religion becomes an evil, in my little world, when it makes people throw this little heirarchy out of order. When people start feeling things that offend on principle as personal violations, they start doing the violating. Then, they get all confused and hurt when everyone doesn't think they're all cool for deeply hating on principle. This offends me on principle.

Another thing that offends me on principle and thus I hated happened on a highway in Costa Rica, close to the Pacific Coast. I saw a great big billboard that read "Sex with children under eighteen? We will pursue you and prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law." Not a translation; it was the only sign I saw in English that didn't need a grammar check. I hated that it had to be in English.

Shame overwhelms me when I think that there are Americans who believe themselves so powerful that they indulge their perversions in developing countries. When a child molester goes overseas to sate his vile hunger, he declares that not only is he more powerful than the child, he is more powerful than the adults in that nation who are there to protect that child. And it all offends me on principle.

My response, therefore, should be principled. I have to do what I can to protect those children, but I also have to fight equally hard to protect the rights of that vile molester. He has the right to an attorney, and to measured punishment rather than death or disfigurement. And he has the right to try to reform himself, to repent. When I reason it out, with principles, I realize that it would actually hurt him more to have to reform. He would have to say, meaningfully, I am no more powerful, no better, than anyone in this whole world. I must seek relationships that give respect and space to both partners. That is my place in the world. That might just kill him.

Things that cause me personal inconvenience make me say "Oh I hate when that happens." I do. I hate it. These are the things one does better push aside and forget. When I'm cut off by the guy who doesn't use his turn signal, I have to look at this thing from his point of view. He didn't turn signal, which is a mistake, and he should be corrected for it, but it doesn't merit my passion. That I must save for relationships. And when you violate my sense of self, you have created a relationship that will never die.

Hence I say with deep conviction that I hate several of my ex-boyfriends with a deep and abiding hate that I will carry with me into Hell as I might carry a worn and cherished teddy bear to my crib. Oh, how boring, another angry chick who hates a guy just because he didn't want to commit. No, no. Not just another angry chick. I hate a series of men who had a very real sickness in common, one that doesn't let them see a woman as anything but a pet, an accessory, or as one so eloquently put it, offsite memory.

They were each of them very surprised when I ended those relationships. Violation of a woman's person was so deeply ingrained in their psyches that they couldn't imagine a woman hating it. One couldn't imagine that I'd hate having my arm twisted behind my back whenever I said "no" to anything. Another couldn't get his head around a woman's hating story after story about how awful most women are, and her lack of delight to redeem the whole race for him. Still another didn't calculate the effect the sum of daily castigations would have on the emotional accounting. But I added all this up, and when I ended things, I ended them badly, encorporating betrayal, lies and humiliation into each one.

Not consciously, no. I didn't know why I cheated. Now I do. It was payback. And they earned it.

Cheating is perfect retribution, for cheating emphatically states that a person is replaceable. The cheated on isn't so important as he once thought. When you cheat you shake the very foundations of his world that is built upon the premise that he holds dominion out of a divine right. When you cheat, it is a sudden correction to a world where all approach all others in a sense of respect and gratitude, and consequences follow in the wake of respect and gratitude deficits.

And I hate myself for cheating because I had to cheapen myself to do it. Intellectually I know that the molested twelve-year-old Tico feels as I do, and deserves that moment and that correction. That little boy or little girl will want and need that retribution as much as I did. It would be righteous anger appeased. Principle demands more of me, the party not offended.

When people give this righteousness to acts taken against that and those offensive on principle, principle becomes the source of evil. That I cheated was evil, but I did it to those who had personally violated me. It begins and ends in my little world. To bring this energy to those who have done nothing to you, personally, that evil poisons a much bigger place. And innocent people get hurt. And I hate that.

Let it be known that today I had three victories over the best batsman in the Under-16s league today. Well, according to C Grade's captain, anyway. We were playing a game against a team from Halls Gap, nearly victims of the January bushfires in the Grampians.

It's a one-day match, right? 22 overs a side. You can bowl 4 overs maximum. We're playing at home, and already I'm saying "fuck shit piss!" because I prefer their ground over ours. We field first. I'm saying fuck shit piss again.

Victory #1: Our top two bowlers get what I call the crack and smack treatment. So we're in deep shit. And I'm called up to bowl. Sometimes my captain can be a real moron. But anyway, I take the ball and face up to the big guy who's tanking us. The first ball he taps away. Second ball he also taps away, but up into the air this time. It's an easy catch. Heh. I took two more wickets that day. Sweet. And my average shows it.

Victory #2: We get off the field after the 22 overs are up. I'm shoved right down the order. Typical. When I finally get a bat, I find that the same guy I got out early (who I later found out was the captain) fielding at midwicket. A close midwicket. A single would be impossible against him, even though the kid bowling looks like he belongs in Under 13s and bowls pretty slow. I charge one ball, give it a good smack towards midwicket - and it hits his leg and richochets off. Ouch. It should have been an easy catch, though.

Victory #3: As if I didn't sweat enough after that, I find out that he has kept an over back to have a go at me. I'm shitting bricks and he starts bowling. I last the over and scored a couple of runs off of him. However, I play so slowly that I have now got the nickname 'Testie'. I didn't really care how slow I went because we had already won. I ended up with 7*, tying my yearly PB.

How would you describe me later? Smiling. Yah, smiling. I had had fun out there. And I'll never forget that day. It goes right up to Number 4 on my Most Memorable Cricketing Days, behind the day I got 4/2, the day I scored 21*, and the day our team won the Grand Final last year.

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