... actually, just fucking rage.
It's been happening for about a week now. I can't help it. I contain it, but I can't stop it from welling up. I'll stop and say right now I don't want to drag this thing down with personal expression. I still do mostly like to type up little snippets and commentary of life or media(something I probably should do more than once a week) or whatever for the .0000000001% of the population of the globe that might read this because I happen to know you from a Messageboard forum, but it's been such an odd sensation, and I'm not sure what to make of it.
Part of me knows it's probably because I'm not happy with my station in life right now. I hate my job or, more accurately, I hate the fact that I'm not where I should be in it. I like the work, I like the people (for the most part, the exception being the reason I tend to shudder in anger at least once a day while on shift), but I should have moved up years ago, and right now the best I can apparently muster is trying to take openings two or three states over, for a 16% pay cut and the privilege to pay for my U-Hauling. Some people say Illegal Immigration is a problem rifling through our country, I say I wish I had about a dozen of them so that I could strap to a flat bed to them and mush them towards Kentucky for me. But I digress...
Is it the job thing? Is it the relationship thing i.e. new TV shows on fucking FOX get more playtime than I do? (god I had to stretch for that, but I think it worked) Is it the fact that it's an election year, and despite the fact that I fucking hate politics with every fiber of my being I can't stop paying attention to them and getting swept away with them? Hell, is it the fact that sometimes I really wish I was more of a writer besides doing the AICN thing (because, really, posting comic book reviews on a website is almost as minor as, uh, blogging about somewhat personal things on this site really) but I know that I don't have it in me except maybe some columnist ability?
All possible. All feasible. All... a good thing?
Obviously anger can lead to, or is a direct result of some bad frustration. Most of which in my case that could probably be relieved by a few bourbon mixes and a trip to the lovely ladies of the 'Port (don't let me fool you though, I have no idea where you can find more "prostitutionary" delights in this city. I'm just guessing. Honest Injun.) but sadly I quit drinking and am not much of a manwhore... and here's where I feel you pulling away from me.
But I think this can be a good thing, in doses. For the first time in a while I'm being proactive about getting a new job, maybe even in a new location, and while the prospects aren't terribly attractive it's still a step forward. I'm busting my ass working out like I haven't since back in the day when I was trying to shed my old fat-assed self and I want to be a machine by summer's end so that maybe, god forbid, instead of feverishly working this keyboard at this ungodly hour, maybe some cute little gal will appreciate all the work I'll be putting in these summer months and let me work her c-board for her (god, that made even me wince). Highly doubtful of course, but it could happen, and at the least I'm wanting to post more and more, and maybe even tighten up the little smidge of "professional" writing I actually do do each week.
This needs to be harnessed of course. Despite the energy it's giving me, I don't necessarily think I'm a fun person to be around right now. In fact, in some situations (like being around certain someones that are constantly rubbing me the wrong way wether they know it or not) I'm kind of downright scummy. I'm definitely not myself which despite obvious quirks, I tend to think is a pretty alright chap, and not too hard on the eyes if I may say. I don't want to calm down completely, because there's an edge here and I like it, but it could be such an easy fall over it with the slightest of tips.
Funny, most times I'm usually ranting that most people aren't angry enough about what is going on around them and here I'm trying to reign mine in. If I were any sort of real writer I could use all the excess I have flowing through me to infect others with and make them proactive. Instead I think I'm going to go furiously masturbate so I can end my restlessness tonight, finally stop "After the Eulogy" by Boysetsfire from playing in my head, and get some goddamned sleep.
God I'm such a weird little fucker.