long time coming: rant
It feels like a very long time since my last post. But I was in Regina, visiting Colter & Jordana, Zach, Danny & Erin, and Joel Gorrie. (I didn't have to mention them all, but I've heard that it's exciting when it happens. So there.) It was a good trip, but now I'm back in Winnipeg, feeling a little restless. School's throwing a minor fit of assignments, and that tends to happen this time of year. I've got an exam starting in something like an hour and a half (but I'm tired of studying so I've moved on to other things). Papers are brewing like a storm in the distance. I kind of wish it'd just rain somewhere else, but I don't think that's an option. I suppose that's why analogies are crummy. But they sure do make a person seem poetic. I'm not really, though. I think about brass tacks all the time.
Anyway, I may as well start by saying thanks for coming back again. I was warned when I first started that it's bad form to leave a blog for too long without writing anything. So thanks for the patience and for coming round again. It's kind of strange that you can make a place for yourself to write about whatever you feel like. I mean, I could say lots of cuss words, like BS or the f-word, and whoever came would read them. And I think it may have something to do with the fact that the people who come to see my blog are people who love me. Not entirely, I suppose, but there's some value attributed to a blog visit. That's why people feel the need to say, "Hey, I saw your blog" or "Liked what you wrote" or whatever. (And I think we all love that, eh? -- please don't stop...) And when I go blog reading (every Thursday, around 4pm -- am I joking?), it's like getting a letter or an email. But much different, of course. It's like a mass email, but not nearly so sad. It's like a magazine or editorial from someone you know. And they don't send it to you. The only reason you get it is because you want to. There's no bones about it, you're there so you can see what the person thinks or to laugh about what the person says or to just hear what's going on. I find it mildly fascinating. Like fish in the sea; yes, like fish in the sea.
I know that last bit didn't make much sense. But why should it? Afterall, I'm poetic, this is my blog, and I'll do what I like... I'm sorry, that was pissy of me. Maybe you can tell I've had one of those weeks that feels a little overwhelming. Kind of like I've lost control. All the pent up aggression rises to the surface and I end up challenging-- well, nothing really. Because I don't really know why things are going the way they are. It's one of those nonsensical things.
And so, getting to the point, here's a story: Monday this drunk and belligerent fellow came into Hull's and started talking shit about blue keys. Really, I don't know what it matters or why some street fellows have such a hard time understanding the concept of "donations," but he told us that we were false advertising and that we shouldn't be selling the keys because they don't work. And, well, this is kind of a dumb story, but after politely trying to explain it to him, and he didn't want to hear it because he was a little belligerent, I kicked him out of the store. And, boy, did my blood boil. Why? Good question. I have no clue. It's been happening more and more lately. Little things are so irritating. It drives me nuts. I think it even gives me a bad night's sleep (like on Monday night - terrible night's sleep). But when I come face to face with my own angry self, it makes me very, very sad. Just writing the story from Monday brought it all back, and I feel so helpless at not being able to do anything. I get angry, but I don't know why I do. Little annoying bits of my day. And a lot of times, it doesn't even bother me that much. But sometimes the slightest thing seems to set it off. (For instance, today at the library, there were no available computers. Can you believe it?) Buechner says that of all of the seven deadly sins, anger is the most fun because you get to put on a real show. Well, I usually don't put on much of a show. I just kind of talk the same and make stupid threats that don't mean anything or just say, "Oh, I'm so angry..." It really just comes to nothing. But what do I do with anger? That's what all this seems to be building up to. Usually, I don't do anything with it. Righteous anger is hard to come by, but it can be a pretty powerful thing. In some way it should motivate action, repairative action. Never retributive action. In some way anger is the realization of injustice. It's usually pretty self-involved injustice, but nevertheless... I have a notion that it might be best not to let anger control you, but rather inform you. Otherwise, you might just carry around a head full of rage that inspires very little except a tantrum now and then.
And, to end the rant, it only seems appropriate to rage, as every good rant should: BUT AT WHAT PRICE?
Anyway, I may as well start by saying thanks for coming back again. I was warned when I first started that it's bad form to leave a blog for too long without writing anything. So thanks for the patience and for coming round again. It's kind of strange that you can make a place for yourself to write about whatever you feel like. I mean, I could say lots of cuss words, like BS or the f-word, and whoever came would read them. And I think it may have something to do with the fact that the people who come to see my blog are people who love me. Not entirely, I suppose, but there's some value attributed to a blog visit. That's why people feel the need to say, "Hey, I saw your blog" or "Liked what you wrote" or whatever. (And I think we all love that, eh? -- please don't stop...) And when I go blog reading (every Thursday, around 4pm -- am I joking?), it's like getting a letter or an email. But much different, of course. It's like a mass email, but not nearly so sad. It's like a magazine or editorial from someone you know. And they don't send it to you. The only reason you get it is because you want to. There's no bones about it, you're there so you can see what the person thinks or to laugh about what the person says or to just hear what's going on. I find it mildly fascinating. Like fish in the sea; yes, like fish in the sea.
I know that last bit didn't make much sense. But why should it? Afterall, I'm poetic, this is my blog, and I'll do what I like... I'm sorry, that was pissy of me. Maybe you can tell I've had one of those weeks that feels a little overwhelming. Kind of like I've lost control. All the pent up aggression rises to the surface and I end up challenging-- well, nothing really. Because I don't really know why things are going the way they are. It's one of those nonsensical things.
And so, getting to the point, here's a story: Monday this drunk and belligerent fellow came into Hull's and started talking shit about blue keys. Really, I don't know what it matters or why some street fellows have such a hard time understanding the concept of "donations," but he told us that we were false advertising and that we shouldn't be selling the keys because they don't work. And, well, this is kind of a dumb story, but after politely trying to explain it to him, and he didn't want to hear it because he was a little belligerent, I kicked him out of the store. And, boy, did my blood boil. Why? Good question. I have no clue. It's been happening more and more lately. Little things are so irritating. It drives me nuts. I think it even gives me a bad night's sleep (like on Monday night - terrible night's sleep). But when I come face to face with my own angry self, it makes me very, very sad. Just writing the story from Monday brought it all back, and I feel so helpless at not being able to do anything. I get angry, but I don't know why I do. Little annoying bits of my day. And a lot of times, it doesn't even bother me that much. But sometimes the slightest thing seems to set it off. (For instance, today at the library, there were no available computers. Can you believe it?) Buechner says that of all of the seven deadly sins, anger is the most fun because you get to put on a real show. Well, I usually don't put on much of a show. I just kind of talk the same and make stupid threats that don't mean anything or just say, "Oh, I'm so angry..." It really just comes to nothing. But what do I do with anger? That's what all this seems to be building up to. Usually, I don't do anything with it. Righteous anger is hard to come by, but it can be a pretty powerful thing. In some way it should motivate action, repairative action. Never retributive action. In some way anger is the realization of injustice. It's usually pretty self-involved injustice, but nevertheless... I have a notion that it might be best not to let anger control you, but rather inform you. Otherwise, you might just carry around a head full of rage that inspires very little except a tantrum now and then.
And, to end the rant, it only seems appropriate to rage, as every good rant should: BUT AT WHAT PRICE?
posted by chris at 16:17
3 Comments:
It's funny you write about anger cause it wasn't two hours ago that I finished giving a workshop on anger management in class. Now that I'm an expert, I'll comment (seeing as I planned the workshop in roughly 2 hours...one last nite and one at 5:30 this morning...and I think I spent more time getting mad about having to do it than actually doing it).
I like what you say about how we can get angry but at what price. This is really valuable because angry people often end up being at the mercy of their anger. Anger is 'the illusion of control'...it controls us! It leaves us feeling sad and powerless (and sleepless), but nevertheless it feels damn good to put on an explosive show every now and then (even if the fireworks are within our soul and no one else sees any evidence of them). I love the Buechner quote, by the way.
Your mentioning of righteous anger is spot on, too. It could also be referred to as a just form of anger. This is the enlightening kind...the kind that serves as a symptom to some further struggle...and begs for much needed 'repairitive action' to be taken. However, it's when this anger is allowed to ruminate and harden that it becomes unhealthy.
Well, I have about three things to say. So lets get right to it.
1. Thanks for the name drop, you know I appreciate it.
2. It is funny how little things just add up, and all of the sudden you're angry, and not even sure about what. This happens from time to time, and I have to try and remember back, and then I remember and throw a small tantrum.
3. And finally, I hope you're not saying that tantrums are a waste of time or foolish. (Cause they're not, they're quite liberating)
Remember 'primal therapy'? Where people were provoked into expressing their rage in bashing a weeble-wobbble, or screaming profanities? Seemed like a good idea...but didn't they find that unleashing 'pent up anger' without restraint - fun as it must have been - basically led to more and more violent oubursts, not to less anger in the person?
And, could anger be like love in some way...that, as the buddhist saying goes, one candle can light a thousand candles without diminishing the first candles' flame? That violence begets violence...and a gentle answer turns away wrath...
and couldn't it be that the little lamb that mary had - fleece so white - was one day coralled by restraining fences into little...coral..and turned into mutton? Damn the electric fence! DAMN THE ELECTRIC FENCE!!!
Phil
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