George Takei...a pretty funny guy

my mood is plummeting, I don't know why, I've been for 2 walks today, lots of those much lauded negative ions about crashing against the shore, found some beach treasure, alas, no avail. I am considering whether yesterday morning's uber high has demanded payback and the sub-axis dip is merely restoring balance.

blah.

just plodding along, not accomplishing much, lots of ideas with none of that all important transition to action. Or perhaps it's more of a mutation at this point, so irregular, unseemly even, not my most recent usual.

I have to say it was a very big high. Large. Writ large, even, with possibility. So much so that  mistakenly ascribed said situation all manner of redemptive attributes.

Meh.

So it is said.

On another note, George Takei is a pretty funny guy.

Write and Let Write...it's all moot anyway

Just rx'd my first nasty comment on a blog I wrote.

Wow. Quite vile.

I do not understand what is the purpose of such virulent hate.

I do not claim to be a universally gifted writer (or anything for that matter) but I guess I was writing under the credo: write and let write (to kinda coin a phrase). I did not presume every one person who managed to find (let alone read) this blog would be happy with it. I guess I did assume that there would be no nasty backlash.

Oh naive moi.

So many things I'm thinking I could say, should say, I want to say but I am most taken aback by the anger of the comment. I know I have so much anger too and I remember learning from those wiser than me who perceived anger as an umbrella feeling.

Umbrellas are simple things that provide a deceptively simple service: cover, protection, shield, barrier, isolation.

Our anger can mislead others into making snap and erroneous judgments about the nature of our essential selves.

Anger can spark our own fears, set us on defence and trick us into missing an opportunity for connection on a more meaningful level. Anger deceives us all.

Under this anger lurks fear, hurt, agony, sadness, grief, loss, confusion, feelings of being trapped, lost stuck. Hopeless. Like a wounded animal that has known only pain in its entire existence, such is the nature of the anger-infused umbrella. A dis-guise of hatred, trained on me. What is more likely, trained at whatever target it could find. Such is the desperation and, I think, purpose of driving anger. Anger wants to be dispersed, it wants out, it wants to be leeched out, when it is released only then can it dissipate. It's why I think anger is almost always on top, it really knows how dangerous it is, so it seeks it's own destruction. Our brains are like that description that someone applied to cold-war era (ok, contemporary) Russia - riddles wrapped in mysteries wrapped in (bacon!) conundrums in enigmas... ad thesaureum!

Levels upon levels of cross-signals and feedback loops and "tells"  - our brain simultaneously guides and misleads - and we are too ill-advanced to fathom how it is that paradox can and does exist. We are barely on the cusp of comprehending that these seemingly implausible (and annoyingly ubiquitous) binary states merely exemplify the bewildering intricacy of now.

Oh boy, my purple prose detector has buried the needle. Ha!

Anger is a feeling not an action - but I seldom hear anyone say "I feel angry", instead I hear "I got angry". I am trying to embrace my anger in order to tap the self-knowledge it likely masks.
So anger and agony co-jostle craving a purge. It's what my writing provides for me alone, anyone else I cannot say.

I may indeed merely be the 4-letter word ascribed by said comment leave-r. All could be moot.

But I think not.