Saturday, June 7, 2008

To rant or not to rant…one man’s journey into all that is restless, irritable, and, discontent

Upon awakening this morning, I came to a rather disturbing realization, or rather, a few disturbing realization, that have fashioned my mind and my fingers to produce that which has eluded me here of late. First, it has been a fortnight or better since last I dazzled the world with the prose of a self-proclaimed maven of all that is written. Next came that most irritating fact of life I face every morning when I awaken; I hurt and must sit on the side of my bed until it stops hurting. This fine morn, it took the better part of an hour. If it had been a workday, I would have called out. I had not that luxury this Saturday morning. All I could do was hurt. Then there were my plans for the day, of which there were none. I intended to write a story about one of my colleagues and watch movies the rest of the day, figuring this would have been a noble road to pursue. Instead here I sit, still hurting a little, at the keyboard spitting venom from my fingers sans the benefit of even the first cup of coffee. Excuse me a moment…

All right, I have the coffee and it burnt my freaking mouth! I am incapable of doing much about it considering I am at home and not my local MacDonald’s. Well, if I could sue myself, the lawyer probably would not take the case because I am fat, and crazy.

A cigarette usually tastes good with that morning ambrosia with the lava like demeanor, except I am attempting to quit. Screw it. If I am going to bitch, I might as well get the full effect. Cough, cough, cough.

What I am really getting at this morning is an attempt to, once more; explain my relationship with the emotion of anger. I have always expressed my anger in a plethora of methods, most employing a high decibel bellowing. I have, over the years in recovery, cultivated some tools to deal with the more negative aspects of my ire. I have a therapist, and a whole horde of friends who are wise in the matters of life who offer suggestions, and kind words. I have my job, which has taught me the most. It is not acceptable to show anger in the manner I usually display it in the presence of children.

One of these tools is to list the things that anger me. Well, here it is: I have a kid at school that has discovered that there are “buttons” he can push which will elicit reactions and actions of a negative nature. I had to have him removed from class in order to prevent an unplanned trip to the orthodontist. It is summer and I have not yet received my summer school assignment. It is extra pay that I am counting on. I have to, and by have to, I mean that I volunteered to go back to school. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I am already the largest depository of useless knowledge in the universe.

I have watched my candidate for President obtain the nomination, and watch his rival hold on, beyond hope, to the campaign until her colleagues in the Senate and Congress threatened her out of it. I am now stuck with the news media and there inane speculations of her viability as Vice-President. I fear that it will not happen and that the Republicans will get the opportunity to sodomize the country for another four or eight years.

Two weeks from today, I will be a senior citizen. My young friend, who I have written about, and I know all too much about the Super Hero universe for me to be an old man. I absolutely missed the appearance of Stan Lee in the Iron Man movie until the Kid told me about it. I thought the Indian Jones movie was great given the age of the lead actor. My aficionado status in this genre is at risk! Help! Help!

I am near rage over the problem I am having typing today. The fingers are simply not working, as I would like them. Numerous and frequent editing is necessary this morning. Well, why don’t you just edit when you are done? Because my typing is so terrible in combination with the memory problems I am have with my approaching age driven infirmities make it such that if I wait to edit, I won’t remember what the words were supposed to be.

I am irked that I have been writing this blog for three months and have received not one comment. It's a blog folks. You're supposed to complain about it or tell me how wonderful I am! Let's get with the program!

I called my sponsor, a wonderful man whose name simply spoken aloud is sufficient to calm me down, told me that it just might be in my nature to be angry. Amazingly, I did not get angry at this and actually felt a little better. He spoke of his grand daughter and her propensity towards rage. I felt humbled by the inference. I realized that the rest of the world does not deserve my bile. Well, at least not in person. (You chose to read this. I might have sent you the email, but you picked up the snake)

I did have some uncertainty as to the “Nature” thing and went to the omniscient Google to see what perspicacious acumen might be forthcoming. What I got was Aristotle.

Anybody can become angry - that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way - that is not within everybody's power and is not easy.

This knowledge accomplished Aristotle’s probable purpose in even saying it. It confused the crap out of me. So much for the wise scribe. I think I will go watch the food channel. It makes more sense to learn how to barbecue then to bitch about self-driven, self-created bullshit. Peace.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Well Tim,
You have definitely hit the anger idea on the head. It is all yours and probably well worth the keeping. It gives you promise of having something to bitch about. I choose not to get angry often, it seems to be an worthless task, when I can't change most of the shit I am angry over. I think I am getting senile and serene in my old age. I rarely read your blog, not that I am not fascinated with your ramblings, I just can't take the time.
Love you still,