RantingJane is suspended until further notice.

It seems people are incapable of reading my disclaimer - 'not to be taken seriously' - and I'm fed up with having arguments about what I write here. I write in jest or to pass a dull moment; to entertain or to ponder a point. I don't write to have my words used against me in the future.

Apologies to those of you who took the blog in the spirit with which it was originally intended to be taken. I'll be back here when I've recovered from recent virtual beatings.

So, am I judgemental?

I've used that title principally because I rather like the image of readers around the world spraying their computer screen with cornflakes as they wake up to such a ridiculous, entirely rhetorical, question. Essentially, a somewhat frustrated surveyor of this blog made the slightly irate comment that I was far too judgemental and, well, should learn not to be. I think that was the general suggestion, anyhow - I guess that is what was being implied.

I have no trouble in admitting that on this blog, and I guess in general conversation, I probably come across as the person most ready and eager to pass judgement on my fellow citizens of this idly spinning orb of ours. I see nothing wrong with observing that a girl is sporting a particularly impressive muffin top, if said girl is never going to hear my comment and the person I am sitting with is tipsy enough to find my witticism remotely entertaining. Okay, so it is a joke at the expense of somebody else - but hang on, aren't pretty much all jokes?

Again, I have no qualms about mocking what somebody is wearing: a guy clad in a skin tight pink tshirt is practically asking for a verbal lashing from me. (Come on, since when did I ever look presentable, or indeed endeavour to make myself presentable? I couldn't care less if somebody went past wearing a pink tutu as they rode on the back of an elephant, but what is wrong with making an entirely tongue in cheek comment?) Or if someone attempts to reach above their intellectual capabilities, I see nothing wrong in raising an enquiring eyebrow (in my mind only - unfortunately, this is an action I can't actually carry out; attempting to raise a single eyebrow leaves me looking worried rather than sceptical) or indeed informing them outright that they are a blithering idiot of the highest order, and should be shot at dawn.

Why shouldn't I roll my eyes in despair when a student informs me they've never heard of Dickens or Austen or Hardy? And why shouldn't I mentally slap someone for making remarks born out of ignorance? What is wrong with watching couples go by and making a rapid assessment as to how long a relationship is going to last, when the girl is constantly nagging the guy and the guy has the definitive Roaming Eye?

Of course I am judgemental - it is part of who I am, making snap decisions about people and situations, occasionally based on remarkably little evidence. If someone chooses to take all my comments seriously, I dare to judge that perhaps they don't know me as well as they ought...

I see nothing wrong with being judgemental, because I am my own harshest critic. Nobody can say or think anything derogatory toward me that I wont have already thought of a hundred times over. Physically, trust me, I know my multiple flaws. And no, I don't need them pointing out - if I can live with this nose, I guess you can, too. And mentally, I know my limitations. 'Wisest is he who knows he does not know', and believe me, every single day I have a further epiphany and realise that there is a vast sprawling desert of knowledge waiting for me to meander about on it. I delve online to find the answer to one question, and discover a dozen more. Oh, and yes, I also know my character flaws, such as the fact I am stubborn to a fault. I know that in many ways I am busy idling away my life, I don't need this pointing out to me.

Until a few years ago, it would have been true to say that I am judgemental - in truth, as well as in jest. But I distinctly remember a scene in Romania, a country I visited six years ago. I went with the intention of seeing the world, having reality thrust under my nose, learning for myself rather than from yet another news bulletin that yes, hell really does exist on earth. Standing in a dark and dirty corner of Bucharest was a tiny, much wrinkled old man. He wore a collection of rags held together by scotch tape and faith, and in his hand was clasped a bright green bunch of parsley. I remember this so vividly because the green was etched so clearly against the dull background. The old man, I was informed by my translator, had walked five miles that morning to bring his parsley into the city to sell.

And I still, six years on, have tears forming as I recall this image. He was just living, just trying to get by. Who the hell am I, was what I realised at this point, to pass judgement on anyone? For all the beauty there is in the world - a beauty that I spend my life in constant pursuit of - there is a sharp dose of cruelty and unutterable despair. Everyone is just stumbling along, trying to get through their seventy odd years by some means or other.

Accusing me of meaning all the criticisms I pass on other people is essentially the equivalent of saying I am cold, uncaring and somewhat malicious in my mind-set. I think that is a judgement I shouldn't have to live with.

“We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think that yours is the only path.” (Paulo Coehlo)