bottled, pickled, preserved

I am pissed so early in the morning, and I can't think straight. I want to bitch and rant and scream till my eyes pop out. But that would mean degrading myself (and in public, no less), and that would be detrimental to my self-esteem. So I wouldn't do it.


Hello, passive-aggressive behavior. I am your slave.


It's such hard work keeping your anger in check. You feel your temperature rising, steam coming out of every pore of your body, limbs tensing, ears reddening, and you just want to chop somebody's head off...with a blunt instrument...a spoon, maybe.


Unfortunately, in this day and age, the ways of the caveman is shunned by the populace. It's just not...civilized. And very messy, indeed. And so, I, like many people before me, have been taught to bottle up my anger, and express it in some other useful way...like art, maybe, or music (cue in Marilyn Manson, Metallica, Eminem). If you can't express your anger through random acts of killing, maybe you can sell them as art, and infect the masses. And make money out of it.


Not that I have anything against said artists, or something, matter of fact, I do on occassion, enjoy their music. It's just that they have found their niche in the world, and I haven't...yet.


But still, I am pissed. I've been trying to write this piece in the hopes of maybe alleviating it, but I think I'm losing that battle. I still want to bitch and rant and make someone's head explode. Having to bottle up anger has never really suited me. It makes me break out in hives. And it ruins my enjoyment of the day. And now, redirecting it doesn't seem to work either.


Maybe, I'd do better with a song, or a poem...or a novel. But my concentration is shot; and i don't have the time...




published in friendster blog October 25, 2006 at 6:06 pm

on sickness

I am sick. I have been for the past four days. I hate it.


I am weak, I am sore, I am unfocused. And all I can think about is this disease. And such an eyesore, this is, eyes all read and puffy, nose aswell and runny, and my hearing is impaired too!


And such burden! I can't even perform tasks that were so easy, so elementary when I wasn't sick. It seems that everything takes double-time, like I'm in slow-mo, or something.


But what I trully hate about being sick is that it reminds me of my own mortality. We all like to feel immortal and invincible all the time, and being sick is the equivalent of being immersed in the full glow of kryptonite (if you're Superman) or bombarded with high frequency sonic waves (if you're Venom). And nobody likes that!


Forget about the high cost of getting sick, everything is expensive, nowadays. What I'm bitching about is the loss of opportunity! In these span of days that I am sick, I could have done more things that I need done. I could have been to places, or could have enjoyed more! But no! This sickness has impaired me so.




published in friendster blog October 18, 2006 at 6:31 pm