Anger as a Second Language
I was so quick to go there like it was zero to indignation in 60 seconds and the way that it affected my psyche so completely even amazed me!
Do you think that it’s the result of my recent discontinued use of medication, or is it the over worked underpaid and unloved blues being once again played out in a minor pentatonic scale? Or have I finally, truly, snapped and my cognitive thought process has become so bogged down that to contemplate any emotion or the resulting consequences thereof is a process that I can no longer indulge in?
Yet on a constant almost daily basis I am finding myself so utterly exhausted from trying to gain my composure when every two seconds something else just sets me off again. Somebody says something trite and I wanna smack them, some idiot cuts me off on the freeway and if I had a rocket propelled grenade launcher, well, its suffice to say that I’d use it and then don’t even get me started about opening up the newspaper to read another reporter on the payroll doin’ the “let’s feed the public lies so that what we are trying to get away with will seem palatable” kinda crap that I’m continually insulted to the point of being enraged!
Today an old friend of mine called me on the telephone and he was drunk as hell talking about how he didn’t know what to do with his life and how was it that I wasn’t still in the same predicament as he was. And it occurred to me that he was doing a somewhat passive aggressive approach to why his life sucked and mine, at least in his opinion, didn’t. Like maybe he was jealous or at the very least a bit of a malcontent brooding on what he saw as my slighting his very existence and in an act of solidarity to stupidity he invited me out to a pub for a few Guinness to help him conquer this huge obstacle of getting his life together.
However as nice as a proposition as that was I had to decline though I must admit I did so with a wee bit of civility and tact by saying that this dilemma of his might be better tackled when he hadn’t just ingested half of Ireland’s gross national product of stout and that if he found himself one day in the possession of all his senses that maybe he should then call me and we’d give it a go pondering his existence as well as the meaning of life! Though knowing him this will never happen as the only time that he’s anywhere near sober is those few seconds of the day when he arises and those shaky few minutes are then spent trying to compose himself in any way possible so as for him to be able to make it outside to the liquor store for his morning allotment of the dark and frothy export of Erie!
And you know? I didn’t lose my temper with him, I didn’t go all ballistic on his stupid outlook concerning his life! So, like what gives here? Do I have selective anger issues? Or does the fact that I know this person allow me to be more receptive to ignorance and allow a little more leeway when dealing with his insanity?
Because lately at work if someone like a client or even another staff members says something stupid to me my blood nearly boils and I wanna go narcissistic on they ass! Or is that ballistic? Hmmmm, maybe I’ve touched on something here? Narcissistic: All about me. Ballistics: The study of the dynamics of projectiles. And I am what, a self indulgent projectile in this scheme of life?
I get so confused at times. Well, actually I get confused a lot of the time and maybe it’s a lack of brain cells, or too many copious amounts of narcotics that were self injected into my being thereby making rudimentary cognizance an almost impossibility and just like a Cro-Magnon man am I quick to ire when faced with trying to figure out emotions and those dreaded things we all call feelings?
Yet when I read things like this: Study Links Anger to Pain
“Psychologists who study pain are increasingly turning their attention to various poorly understood associations among anger, certain behavior patterns related to the experience of anger, increased sensitivity to acute pain and increased occurrence of chronic pain. A new study led by psychologist Stephen Bruehl, Ph.D., assistant professor of Anesthesiology, casts light on physiological mechanisms underlying these associations. The study appears in a recent issue of Pain, the journal of the International Association for the Study of Pain.”
Well, it gives me a certain way out, if ya know what I mean. Like yeah I’m in pain! I’m in pain from all the injustice in the world, I’m in pain from stupid people making my life a living hell and I’m even in pain from the fact that there’s a journal from the International Association for the Study of Pain! Like hey, it friggin’ hurts dude—enough said already!
Of course if I research this a little there’s a lot more where that came from like: Study Links Anger to Body Asymmetry
A Study of Anger and Coronary Heart Disease
And let’s not forget: Anger, The Misunderstood Emotion
So I guess I’m not alone here, yet what am I to do? Just let it all go? Ignore my rage against indiscretion? Ignore the irritation I feel every time I pick up the newspaper and read the headlines? Ignore how two faced and complacent I’m getting when I don’t rise up angry every time this idiotic government of ours takes another inalienable right away from us in the name of a war on terrorism that they designed in order to do just that, terrorize us—the populace that finances their conquests and world domineering escapades!
But anyway I’m digressing off into another dimension altogether here, so let’s all go back to the initial incident at hand where I was walking home from Jacks Liquors and I was accosted by one of the locals who from the looks of him was in terrible shape and he was pleading for me to give him a dime, a quarter, a dollar anything because he was going into the DT’s from lack of alcohol. And though this guy was one of the neighborhood’s bullies and I don’t usually give in to his aggressive style of demanding money off of strangers, I felt some sort of compassion or empathy and I dug deep in my pocket and gave him all the change that I had which was almost a dollar and of course he didn’t thank me and to be honest I wasn’t expecting him to. But what I really wasn’t expecting was for him to scream “I don’t want your fuckin’ pennies!” and with that said he then tossed the single penny that had been mixed in with the rest of the coins that I had given him as hard as he could hitting me in the back of the head from about five feet away!
Ok, so like since when does a beggar get to be choosey? And correct me if I am wrong here but isn’t there like tax and such on a tasty forty ounce malt beverage? So like even if he didn’t have enough to buy the booze, which he had said that he hadn’t, wouldn’t an extra penny have like cinched the deal over at Jacks as he’d at least of been one more cent closer to the amount owed?
It was all that I could do not to fully turn around and go over and beat the living crap out of this guy! And yeah he’s six feet something and an angry menace to society, but he’s half dead from withdrawal, so what better time to plummet the offending culprit to an early grave? Yet I was still shaking with rage as I walked away and the only thing that I could think of was that I needed a rest or at the very least I am direly in need of a vacation from life!