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nnoyance is a milder emotion than bigotry, and we are often terribly annoyed by the manner and attitudes of friends and people we agree with. Annoyance often derives from a discomfort between an undesired voice, a presence or action, and an agreeable or desired environment—or perhaps better said: it is an unwanted distraction from conscious thought or a preferred atmosphere. I am most annoyed by my friends and family, not my enemies. I want to explore the manner in which I too am annoying, and why I, personally, am annoyed at so many things all the time. I will keep this grumpiness brief and not write anything substantial . . . to avoid annoyance.

Perhaps my curtness will be found annoying.

How I have written this article may be a source of annoyance to those who prefer certain styles, but let’s put that aside for now. No matter what literary, journalistic, formal or informal style this is written in, it is bound to annoy someone.

I was vaguely annoyed when I learnt about the existence of formal, academic ‘Annoyance’ and ‘Boredom’ studies, declared professional disciplines. Given no prior knowledge, I thought immediately, with a knee-jerk prejudice, that this was some sort of over-scrupulous, positivist, scientistic systematising of a concept that is too diffuse and obscure to be confidently ordered; just as I might view psychology or economics. I was annoyed at the new knowledge, and then annoyed at myself for my dismissiveness.

What’s particular, or peculiar, about my sense of annoyance is how curmudgeonly wide-ranging it is. It is not that I cultivate any particular hatred for most of what enters my realm to piss me off, as hatred would require more energy and might be construed as a compliment in reverse, but my austere disrespect for all ages and classes and faces can still be acute in each instance; where a lofty distaste for anti-intellectual delinquents rests in bed, in some freakish versatile coitus, with disdain for snobbish intellectuals.

Particular eccentricities are tedious. Eccentricities that appear as an organic part of one’s person are tolerated, but these are hard to come by, like striving for authenticity if one is trying too hard. Odd things can be delightful, but many won’t find them so. Oddities in fashion or manner are tolerable if one isn’t trying; like Sprezzatura, the Italian art of effortless grace, which is to say, making the difficult easy. Otherwise, eccentricities in behaviour or presentation appear affected. Affectations are fine in jest but not as part of everyday character. Many possess affected manners, through insecurity, wanting to stand out or stand in, or to distinguish themselves in some way, though most such signs cause judgement or contempt. It is hard to suggest how to avoid this. Someone somewhere will always find any particular thought or action personally offensive due to their own idiosyncrasies, even if what they object to is good, but we can mostly forget people like that. The mild suggestion might be to try to be more comfortable in one’s own skin, and as such find less reason to affect our style and conduct, though that is a lot to ask.

Depending on your mood, all of the above may be found annoying (as if I am anyone to suggest anything), and can be dismissed. Or aesthetics alone may be reason enough: as maybe my writing is affected, even if I’m mostly a sort of chameleon naturally adopting elements from what I’ve read. Regardless, that too can be uncomfortable. It still might seem like an imposition. Or I might easily be a bore. Too often I find the over-committed, the overcertain, those too full of passionate intensity, to be the most annoying. They are particularly overzealous in their certainty despite the sparseness of their reading, or the surplus of time they have spent skulking around social media. Yet—with a rejoinder anyone observant enough might predict—those who seem the opposite of the former, which is to say, more aloof, too ambivalent, apathetic and careless, are similarly irritating. It is a commitment to superfluous intransigence, the hateful, closed and locked-down kind, that damages most. To be committed but open, with few truly settled convictions (especially in firmly academic philosophy), yet still having strong views . . . is not a contradiction. It is too easy to be committed but closed. Few approach this kind of moderation, I can hardly be said to do so, and it is annoying that we are so inept. A lesson I should probably learn is to accept, in some part, while remaining posed against our inherent human unreasonableness. This is far easier to accept as an abstract intellectual position than as an immediate feeling. There is a real danger in being too cautious, but I usually prefer it to being too bold—or arrogant . . . and therefore annoying.

The smartest or most accomplished can be terrible people, or at least too smug and overbearing, hence annoying. Lesser people, not as morally sound or brilliant, can make better friends and prove more reliable in both everyday or desperate situations. Some of the greatest minds in history have been annoying personalities. The polymath Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, for all his many accomplishments and creative excellence, was known to be confident to the point of great immodesty, socially awkward, boastful and exaggerative. Being skillful and technically gifted mean less to many if one is clumsy and patronising. The arrogant may protest, thinking the substance of their work is enough, yet neglecting tact, good taste and good form makes life difficult. Their superiority is detested even more so for being vulgar, and success would be more forthcoming if great yet vain and egotistical people were more discerning and socially aware—hence less annoying.

What I find most annoying about myself is my impulsiveness. I can rarely defer any need for quick satisfaction or comfort, though thankfully only with respect to minor vices. The major ones are too physically tiresome or distant; too annoying to even begin. I am sensitive to change and to sincerely rude behaviour, and I am emotionally fragile as well as physically frail. People comment on an apparent stoicism I display in the light of morbid subjects, but this front soon fails. I am quick to lose my cool and become temperamental, and I overshare. This is my natural disposition, and it is frustrating. Becoming a more prudent person able to better cope with the world’s vices and my own is onerous.

Ideally, I should aim to find myself less annoying, if only for the sake of my own health, while annoyance at the outside world is not always so bad. It may be unhealthy, or hurtful, but a banal and obvious truth worth stating is that exasperation is a sure indication that something is wrong. It is hard to begrudge ourselves when we instinctually become animated and rude, even in an annoying way, or in an ineffective way, as the world, society, our institutions, give us sufficient cause to be distrustful or upset. The fact that the world is currently becoming less just, more unsafe, less trusting or trustworthy, is more than a source of annoyance. It is a reason for deep concern. Annoyance is doubled when we react incapably. Unfortunately the world and its denizens will only become more annoying in time, though this may give others an opportunity to be less annoying. Observe the most risible features of your country, class, age, nationality, etc, and work to avoid them. Their absence will merit you a hearty congratulation. Yet if too much effort is put into avoiding annoyances, the inevitable irony rises again.

Annoyance is inescapable. I used the words annoying, annoyance, or annoy at least 39 times in this essay. I fear repetition without good context is a common annoyance. And now, I find myself unable to end these thoughts in a non-annoying way.