I seem to go through periods of time that involve me, asking more questions than I can answer. Before finishing or beginning to answer a question, one needs to be able to calm down to look at the possible answers. It is a strange but illuminating experience to actually jump to the other side. All one can do is laugh or get angry. I think that’s why I like Mr. Angry. His humour, yes I say humour because it is. He doesn’t pretty it up except with a visual facial costume.
When I first watched Mr. Angry’s videos I couldn’t actually get thru them. OMG how aw-ful; not the videos, but me. Really this just made me mad, because I couldn’t watch nor listen to anger. This emotion eludes me more than any other. Anger tends to be seen as abnormal or psychotic in society; generally speaking. Anger can be those things, but it can resemble other emotions such as humour, love or boredom. We need to recognize our anger as much as our happiness or we risk the full tide of emotion, we as humans are privelidge to experience.
When the questions start, they gently start accumulating in grandeur; not unlike a snowball one is rolling in the snow. This white ball can be too much to continue rolling; for size and/or weight may overcome physical strength or one could let it fly down a mountain side. Either way this big ball of human creation will meet it’s final destination. It’s going to melt regardless of whether it be at the bottom or atop the hill. Melt I say! I go through question period nearly everyday. I actively need to alleviate, release or calm these questions. In the past as it is present I more than likely create with these questions in search of an answer, except when I’m feeling anger.
These past few weeks whether by fate or sub-concious choice I am flip-flopping about. It got worse when I went for four days with no paxil. But the funny thing is this, after the initial
shock withdrawal wore off, my head cleared as my drive returned. I could answer questions creatively with ease. I got a burst of emotion that had felt locked up for over two years now. On the fifth day I took the three pretty pink pills. Ahhh I don’t know about this. But I kind of feel like paxil has quieted my right brain too much. I have tonnes of drive and ideas, albeit the spark to continue, to see them through wains more often than not lately. I want to. I would like to. Tomorrow. These tomorrow’s are becoming repetative. I want to own MY brain again. The continuous dialogue is old now.
This anger within needs reckoning. Silent rage was my answer to anger for many years. You know the silent female who secretly freaks out when no one is looking.
I woke up late today. I had to go to the bank today. Both Eric and I are resentful of having chosen this bank. Some things are good and then there are the rotten apples. Fuck, even now I am angered, I want to withdraw and go lay down or cry but best of all, become numb. Dealing doesn’t seem to be an option in my brain. I want the anger to go away. To die. Poof! There will be no more problems of not being able to deposit cheques, work cheques, and recieve the money immediately without the ole “We’ll have to hold this for seven days crap”. We became quite inventive to get the money, we rightfully deserve and earned. I began depositing everything into my account through the bank machine. Ha! Biggest issue with this bank is this; they refuse to cash Eric’s pay-checques. Rarely a tickled teller, teases and stamps the paycheque just so. Eric has been working for the same company for TWO years now. It is high time this institution accept that fact also. He wouldn’t continue working for this company if the cheques were falsified. Thank you fearmongering hats-full-of-money-big-mouthed money-mongerers for making the post 9/11 everyday world a little harder to cope with.
You can call this creative process, inspiration. Many do. Most artists get off on this stuff, at least some of my friends do. I can only look on and wonder why my process is a melting pod rather than a launch pad. Once I’m launched I’m ok. It is that pod-pad transition aloofness causing delay. The liquid starter I was hooked on once, eliminated or reduced greatly this transition disorder. It was recreational. It turned the ignition. There was say, seven of so wonderful months of pure genious. I miss my GHB. Fuck that is hard to write. If there is anything I
hate hate more, the struggle taking place in my brain between right and wrong, good or bad and so on and so forth. Does everyone have this battle going on? To some extent I’m assuming yes. I also believe none of us react the same way to a dilemma or arrive at an answer in the same way. It’s really hard to know you found an answer that worked very well for some time and KNOW you can’t risk answering the question that way anymore. I don’t miss addiction. I am a female addict. That is hard to write as well. What is harder even still, is that this post will be read.