…..constrain the interior anger I feel so much.
I wouldn’t describe myself as a very angry person. Certainly not on the outside, so I am hoping my family and friends would not consider me Mr. Angry. Maybe they do……
But the reality is, I am. A very angry person. But I manage, certainly most of the time, to keep that passion and anger inside me. I don’t even know when all this started; on reflection, I wondered whether it was my breakdown, almost a decade ago, when this first appeared to manifest itself. But no, it was a long time before that.
I feel the anger in my stomach, or is it some other organ or maybe my soul, when I read or hear stuff that is stupid, completely ill-informed, totally unreasonable, or just plain bollocks. I also get angry, inside, when I think of a situation that maybe hasn’t happened, and probably would not, but will allow the anger to build up “in case” it happens. If someone is behaving in a completely unreasonable and incomprehensible way, in my mind I am giving them a real going-over.
Even while writing this, and thinking of examples to illustrate this wasteful and pointless feeling, I pause and pace around the room, (alone), getting into a real state, twitching with discomfort, and my heart racing.
Flat-earthers. Why should they bother me? Among the world’s most ignorant twats, their utter pathetic-ness makes me livid.
Trump supporters, particularly after January 6th. If I read a missive from one of them, in my mind, I am jumping up and down on them until they shut up.
Covid deniers – just what planet are you on for fuck’s sake? Or, even worse, “I’m not taking the vaccine, because I don’t trust it.” Fine, your choice, but keep yourself well away from me, you complete and utter wank-fest who prefers conspiracy theories to science.
Years ago, Mrs B and I were crossing Paris using the Metro. It was busy, and we were sat some distance from her folded-up wheelchair, needed because of her chronic fatigue. For no reason at all, I imagined one bloke sitting close to it was going to steal the wheelchair. And I’m giving him a real hiding and talking to in my head. The trouble is, my lips are moving and Mrs B says: “Who are you having a go at now?” She is used to it.
It’s all pointless and a waste of energy. But it’s there, potentially all the time. I really wish it wasn’t. I wish I could banish it forever.
I wish I could…
There is a scene in the ‘Fifth Element’ movie, one of my favorites: ‘You have to develop your communication skills’…
Recently I’ve seen a sociological survey in which it was revealed that people who developed their communication skills but studied at satisfactory levels at school, were doing much better later in life and career than successful A-graders.
Yes, you could guess what I’m talking about: it’s all about communication skills.
The thing is that I’m an introvert. Yes, in my school years I’ve read tons of books, not quite a book worm but definitely a booker. I was developing my creativity but probably lacked some external communication. In my teenage years it definitely influenced my abilities to attract girls, for instance. I remember… it wasn’t easy to me to phone a girl and get her for a date. I was talking like an idiot, even making hand-written notes beforehand to keep the conversation on. For example, I was speaking about politics when girls were expecting some fun talk. Yep, it didn’t fit the situation. To tell you the truth, I sucked.
Later I overcame it and didn’t have any problem in this kind of communication.
I now have no problem, too, taking an interview as a journalist, or talking to somebody in an eye-to-eye encounter. Or delivering some speech in front of an audience – I actually love it. It’s fun now to me.
Sometimes, I feel I just don’t run smoothly, lacking some free-flow skills; I feel like I could do it smoother. I see my limits here and this makes me want to push it. It doesn’t always work out in the process, truly.
To make a long story short, I wish I could develop more communication skills. Sure I’m far from being like Ronald Reagan, ‘The Great Communicator’ but I’d be happy to be just ‘The Communicator’.
I wish I could…
So when you’re young it’s “I wish I Could,” then you hit a certain age and it becomes a Bucket List: “I’m gonna be dead in three weeks so I better get this crap started”.
Its possible I still have more than three weeks left and if I do, I plan to waste it on bad wine. I’ve never been a list person: New Years Resolutions, not once; grocery store list, hell no. OK, that last one can mess me up sometimes. But I don’t do em’ no how.
My “I Wish I Could” list would be filled with creative activities and travel. I love to do anything involving the creative process; anything you can think of: painting, musical instruments, and I wish I could write… I’m sure you wish I could too.
I have taught myself all kinds of artsy junk: Photoshop, 3D animation, computer graphics, and lately I’ve been fooling with vector graphics. But that is not why we have gathered here today, I’m supposed to say what I wish I could do.
I wish I could play a musical instrument. See, I’m a rock star in my car… oh God! The money ain’t for nothin’ and the chicks is for free. Yep, that will be my answer: Superstar. I would play keyboard. Why? Because years ago I played a little guitar and that hurt my fingertips, I’m precious you know, and I played trumpet in Junior High School – made my lips vibrate. So now I only play iTunes.