boing!

I've been meaning to post for quite a while now, and I'm glad I finally have the energy to do it. I know it was only a few days since my last post, but that shouldn't count, considering it was a somewhat out-of-mind experience. Same goes for the one previous to that. I lost it, people.

Speaking of losing it, I should probably go ahead and tell the loyal, royal army (henceforth to be known as "LRA") IE, my fanbase (excuse me while I have a good self-depricating laugh) what the deal is with me and anger.

See, anger and I go way back. There was a time, long ago in my wee stages of life when anger could be found screwing me up almost every day. No matter what happened, as much as I tried to just be myself and make friends, get good grades and do my chores, anger would show up and terrorize both me and anyone that might come into contact with me. It got to be so bad that even my own family became afraid of me. "Don't piss Wes off" was a common phrase around the house. That was at age 11 or so.

Anywho, I had a dream one night that shook me to my core. Anger manifested itself into this creature, and I was helpless against it. I wroth around, helpless as this demon choked the life out of me. Then, in my dream, I somehow found the strength to overcome it. I drew power from a light that was behind Anger, realizing immediately that the light represented the future. No matter what, no matter how much Anger has control of me, the future is always going to be there. It was only when Anger began to dim the light of the future that I realized how important it was to regain control. From that day forth, I did my best to make anger like a well trained animal.

Moving on. Tonight, I let some of that Anger loose. They call it "letting off steam" because when steam is trapped inside of a container, it creates pressure. Here's how it happened.

As I walked outside the bar, I saw Crater hanging out with some people. I made some chit-chat with him and exchanged a little friendly shit-talk. Crater then slapped me on the face like he does and I laughed, saying, "Fuck you!" It was all in good fun, so far. So I decided to get Crater back. I said, "Okay, well I'm heading out. Hey, Crater... look at me. Look at me, man." Once he made eye contact... POW! Right across the face. Got him pretty good. Well, that steamed him up a little, so he started smacking away, like a sparring match or something.

Then, out of nowhere, this jackass decides to throw one in for himself. I'm watching Crater the entire time, but pop! This guy smacks me too. So I stop. Actually, everyone stops. I turn and look at him, and said, "Did you mean to do that?"
He mumbled something and before I really bothered to ask him to repeat, I said, "You're afraid I'm going to smack you back, aren't you?"
And then he said it. Just for reference, people, don't EVER, ever EVER say, "Go ahead, slap me."

So I smacked him. Ohh, mama howdy, I smacked the shit out of him. I actually fell down. When he got back up, he was pretty mad, but all I had to do was tell him if he started any shit, then I'd smack him even harder. The best part is that while everyone was trying to break us up, they were all laughing too hard to say anything reasonable.

Ha ha ha haaaa! Good times. Anyway, that definitely let off a little steam for me. Mama Howdy!

The pathology of Anger

Once in a blue moon, I have to set out to dissect exactly why I'm angry and how to deal with it. Anger, for me, is a source from which I draw a lot of my energy-- whether it's creative, physical, or raw emotion. When I'm about to make a strong point-- something I believe in so fervently that no other emotion can employ more tension-- anger is the well that I draw from. If I'm about break something-- which can be surprisingly therapeutic-- I piss myself off first.

Tonight, I'm angry. Angry beyond the ability to channel it into something useful. It's like a red, boiling gel coursing through my veins. My palms could fry and egg, and my face grows flushed. My eyes sink, and it's no longer optic nerves but my mind that plies truth from lie. Things no longer represent hard or soft-- only breakable with my fist versus breakable with a tool of some sort. A dull numbness creates a crown on my head, as if I'm wearing an invisible helmet. I try as hard as I can not to clench my teeth, because it creates a pressure so intense that my temples throb. When I open my hands, palms facing up, I can feel blood throbbing the blue vein in the pit of my elbow. It's like an unearthed root-- typically stoic, but suddenly loose and alive.

I tried my best to be a good friend. I went further than I normally would to make sure nobody could detect my inclement, burgeoning rage. But now that I'm home alone, only my thoughts to accompany me, thoughts which dispel any notion of a benevolent fate...

After running through what was said over and over again, I tried to pick out the indication that I should have expected this. I tried to blame myself first, for not picking up on a hopefully obvious sign that my expectations should be promptly killed on sight. But nothing seemed out of order. Nothing seemed miscued or troubling.

Nothing is exactly what I received after -- if even for a brief moment -- deciding it was okay to generate expectations, to bungee with hope as my rope. To take for granted after such a good night, that a second would follow. Karma, it appears, delegates my punishments in 24-hour cycles. Well, I'm really sick of it.

Im sick of knowing in my gut that the night is going to be full of useless bullshit, and convincing myself that my gut is wrong. From this point forward, if I have a bad feeling, I'm going to follow it. If I have a good feeling and it turns out to be wrong... then I'm going to punch a baby in the face.

I'm starting to feel better already.