Irrational Hatred

It has just dawned on me whilst listening to the radio and sitting with books around me 'researching my dissertation topic' how much I hate Toyah Wilcox. The DJ hadn't said anything about her, or relating to her really; but every now and then I get to thinking about people who really annoy me, and she just happens to be one of them. Jenny Frost from Atomic Kitten is right up there too. The way she sauntered in from Precious, miming over Kerry Katona's voice in 'Whole Again'... In fact, I think I hate her more.

On declaring my lust for hearing tales of mis-spent youth, it got me thinking how much time I spend hating people I don't even know. In my first year of university, there was a dark-haired boy living across from my halls. He seemed to have loads of friends who were always playing sport in our mutual green space. I couldn't figure out why he was always surrounded by people, because just the sight of his face made me want to hit a wall or a kitten or something. In the last week of the semester I dropped all my stuff (I do that) in the street by our halls and he stopped to help me pick it up. He then introduced himself and asked if I wasn't the girl who lived in that flat across the way from him, and he hoped he hadn't woken me that morning with the football. He was so nice, I really didn't know what to do but be off with him to justify to myself my feelings of repulsion. It seemed the more harsh I was to him, the nicer he was in return. I still see him around, with his smug smile - sometimes he even adds a little wave. And with every fake smile I beam back at him, I hate myself a little more for being so irrational.

It's basically for this reason that I'd hate to meet Jenny Frost, or Toyah Wilcox because I have every faith that they'll be really lovely and funny and I'd probably want to have them as friends. But in a slightly sadistic way, it's kinda relieving to really hate someone once in a while. To wish their face covered in white-heads; their toes to morph together giving them an uncomfortable gait when they walk - a bit like the Hunchback of NotreDame - where they used to move with the grace of a gazelle. To hope they get so fat, they start doing that obese-kind of breathing. You know, that one that sounds a little like rhythmic, slightly blocked air conditioning. And for all these thoughts there is another reason there for one to go straight to hell but I think it's healthy just as long as these thoughts stay in your head. And they work all the better if you don't know the person in question.