The Anonymous Ranter

Vancouver, it appears, is a city of ranters.

From surly bus drivers, to overly friendly passengers, bridge and tunnel traffickers and bad driving, to heated debates about the rain. And who could possibly forget those obligatory rants about the lack of single men and single women; or the overabundance of dog shit on the sidewalks, bums and beggars?
Vancouverites are not afraid to say it, loud and proud. *

Completely anomymously, however.

I wonder if I have become too complacent, or simply accepted those things I can't change?
No matter how hard I try, it's still going to rain when I've forgotten my brolley. There will still be a queue around the corner of my local coffee shop when I'm running late and caffeine less for work, dogs will continue to defecate sidewalks and walkways while their owners turn blind eyes, the West End will continue to be noisy and when I get on a bus, I will still be that girl the crazies want to speak to.

And still, there will always be that random angry Anonymous Ranter.

"I've been lucky," I say to Amelia as we get into the dreaded elevator and make our way out for a little Bob Dylan last week, "I've never had a nasty anonymous comment on my blog..."

Well, until recently.

Perusing comments the other day, I came across an angry little rant. Well, not a rant as such, just a little, well... a little je ne sais quoi

"Why do you lie in all your posts" my Anonymous Ranter starts, "and tell boring stories which make me pity you?"

The rant carries on "Don't think we don't know you stretch the truth to sound more exciting, but somehow your stories still suck."

Which gets me thinking. If I know said Anonymous Ranter, why would they be hiding behind the Anonymous cloak?

I wonder if it is an ex-lover, tall and bitter hunched over a keyboard, an angry mind twisting knives into words?

Or an old friend, an old acquaintance, who has somehow fallen out of favour? Sat in a pristine office, slumped shoulders and folded arms, blue eyes rimmed red with anger?

Or are you no one I know? Lurking from site to site, devouring the thoughts and words of strangers in the hope it will calm your beating heart and still your white hot rage?

Whomever you are, I do not write for your pity nor your pleasure.
You have a choice, and if you don't want to come in, have a cup of tea and a chat, meet some interesting people... well, there's a button on the top that says "Next Blog".

I suggest you click it, and move on.


* If in doubt, pick up Westender magazine any week, flip to Rants and Raves. Make a cup of coffee. Sit back. Read. Nod head on occassion.