The Vault
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Refuge for the rational.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
I'm Going Hair-Shirtless Today
Often, in fits of a rage I can’t quite explain, I will look towards a window and wonder just how much force it would take to shatter the glass. There is something in that sound; I don’t know how to articulate what it is. I don’t do it though—break the glass—and that is because within that brief moment of fury, there is an actual thought process. Not that it’s wrong. Not that it would be expensive to repair. None of that rational and over-rated bullshit: only that I would have to stand there, having just released all of my tension, anger and absolute frustration, red in the face, and explain to whoever it is that I’m arguing with, exactly why I did what I did when there isn’t a reason. There is no reason at all. And it’s terrible to be with someone who doesn’t understand.
Assume what you will from this. It doesn’t happen often, and I’m rather annoyed when it does because most of the time I am at a loss to explain the reasons behind it. I get frustrated sometimes and it can be to the degree that I pull my own hair. But, I had a thought yesterday that is relevant to all of this. Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage. It was a nostalgic moment. I haven’t listened to that album since I don’t know when, but I had another track in my head last night so I turned it on and I realised that I was an angry teenager at a Smashing Pumpkins show at one point, but I hadn’t even bothered to think about what I was screaming at the top of my lungs. Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage.
Well, naturally, I was taken aback. I’m the type of person who watches the news and cries. I lose my appetite when I think about other people going hungry. I get preoccupied constantly with negative shit and I just simply cannot shake it. And yes, I get insulted for being this way—cynical, unhappy and negative. But, guess what? It sucks. It isn’t for show, this is the way I actually feel almost all of the time. Maybe it’s compassion, maybe it’s just viewing the world through shit-coloured glasses, but whatever it is, it sucks. It’s far easier for some people to call it a weakness of character than to accept that I might actually want things to change. But, despite the fact that I feel ill at the thought of someone kicking a dog, it doesn’t change the fact it happened—that things like that happen every day. And I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do with this information.
My family took me to brunch on Easter Sunday. It was an outlandish affair and I sat there with a plateful of fruit, omelettes, prime rib, gourmet sauces, and a creeping neurosis. How could we gorge like this while others had nothing? How could I justify my lust for exotic and expensive meals? I’m still searching for that answer, but what I do know is that all of my anger grows from this same place. I allow things in the outside world to build up inside of me and affect everything in my life. And I sit here and regret those things and complain and write about them, and then check my blog to see if anyone commented on that, and get frustrated if the people who did haven’t much to say. Why? What the hell am I waiting for? For some reason, I seem to have invested a disturbing amount of value in this stupid thing. As if all of my integrity is wrapped up in it. As if the lack of depth and connection I feel in my real-life relationships is going to mysteriously emerge from the shadows of the internet and beacon me inside for a slice of lifelong friendship and a cup of hot soul. I am confused and frustrated right now and I know that there is no way I can change the world. But, I suppose it’s about time I got a start on all those things that are supposedly broken in my own life: try to wipe the shit from my glasses, fix the lack of people in my life and try to retrieve or maintain whatever depth exists with the ones who are. No amount of suffering can fix anything; that requires action.
Assume what you will from this. It doesn’t happen often, and I’m rather annoyed when it does because most of the time I am at a loss to explain the reasons behind it. I get frustrated sometimes and it can be to the degree that I pull my own hair. But, I had a thought yesterday that is relevant to all of this. Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage. It was a nostalgic moment. I haven’t listened to that album since I don’t know when, but I had another track in my head last night so I turned it on and I realised that I was an angry teenager at a Smashing Pumpkins show at one point, but I hadn’t even bothered to think about what I was screaming at the top of my lungs. Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage.
Well, naturally, I was taken aback. I’m the type of person who watches the news and cries. I lose my appetite when I think about other people going hungry. I get preoccupied constantly with negative shit and I just simply cannot shake it. And yes, I get insulted for being this way—cynical, unhappy and negative. But, guess what? It sucks. It isn’t for show, this is the way I actually feel almost all of the time. Maybe it’s compassion, maybe it’s just viewing the world through shit-coloured glasses, but whatever it is, it sucks. It’s far easier for some people to call it a weakness of character than to accept that I might actually want things to change. But, despite the fact that I feel ill at the thought of someone kicking a dog, it doesn’t change the fact it happened—that things like that happen every day. And I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do with this information.
My family took me to brunch on Easter Sunday. It was an outlandish affair and I sat there with a plateful of fruit, omelettes, prime rib, gourmet sauces, and a creeping neurosis. How could we gorge like this while others had nothing? How could I justify my lust for exotic and expensive meals? I’m still searching for that answer, but what I do know is that all of my anger grows from this same place. I allow things in the outside world to build up inside of me and affect everything in my life. And I sit here and regret those things and complain and write about them, and then check my blog to see if anyone commented on that, and get frustrated if the people who did haven’t much to say. Why? What the hell am I waiting for? For some reason, I seem to have invested a disturbing amount of value in this stupid thing. As if all of my integrity is wrapped up in it. As if the lack of depth and connection I feel in my real-life relationships is going to mysteriously emerge from the shadows of the internet and beacon me inside for a slice of lifelong friendship and a cup of hot soul. I am confused and frustrated right now and I know that there is no way I can change the world. But, I suppose it’s about time I got a start on all those things that are supposedly broken in my own life: try to wipe the shit from my glasses, fix the lack of people in my life and try to retrieve or maintain whatever depth exists with the ones who are. No amount of suffering can fix anything; that requires action.
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