a teeny bit ticked off

It’s not often I get angry.  Oh, sure, a mild, fizzing pissed off is a fairly regular emotion around Dolceville.  I’ll sometimes even stretch to a rant.  But a white hot, ice cold, lock down rage is rare.

It’s a fine little line.  One moment I’ll be having a perfectly good conversation on the pros and cons of my way versus the highway watching the mild fizz rise in a fairly unperturbed way.  Happy that I’m faintly grown up enough to not run screaming from the confrontation.  That I’m handling a little tête-à-tête without developing weepy eye syndrome (a pernicious disease which I’m prone to in frustrating times).   

And then suddenly, the conversee will say something.  An unexpected verbal vignette that seems to dig into the heart of what’s being unsaid.  And its total shut down.  Sayonara.  Au revoir.  Thanks for the memories.  Game over.  

From that point on, I’m beyond rational.  I’m headin’ into injun territory.  That wide barren landscape of fuck you.  With a cocked gun and an unrelenting streak of viciousness.  And there ain’t no point of return.  There’s a way back, sure, but a different way.  A way changed.  A way paved with that sharp edged thing.   

It’s not often.  But it’s interesting, in the acrid, crisp-clear way of that moment, how much can shift just then.  How many moments can collide in an irreparable way, suck down into a distilled frame.  How the alchemy of all that weight can change a thing. 

It’s a place hard to come back from. 

Only once, a very long time ago, did I go beyond the bleak rage space into a blistering, incendiary, firestorm of fury.  I understood what they said about seeing red.  About forgetting yourself.  I won’t go there again.  But it makes me rethink myself, sometimes.  That maybe the bright, happy, glass-half-full me is only a veneer.  That if I’d been raised in other way or if I’d learned lessons in a different way that I’d be out of control.  And what that would be like?

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17 thoughts on “a teeny bit ticked off

  1. K Chasu says:

    dolcerina – we all have rage. it’s healthy and, like you say, you don’t get to that place very often. it has been a long time for me – a few years. i can feel it coming but i have some little tools and tricks and delay tactics…

    cool blog.

  2. dolce says:

    thanks KC. Yeah, I’ve also learnt a few tricks and delay tactics, but fek, sometimes it just rolls over like a tsunami.

    How’s the no smoking going? And btw, I don’t think the blog ebb has anything to do with the pills – this place is fine, but it’s just another blog, with some collective-ish features. It’s not blogmark. I joined blogmark because my blogspot blog wasn’t quite what I was after. The ‘mark was.

    But ho hum. The world turns.

  3. K Chasu says:

    dolce – yeah. but i haven’t found anywhere better to hang my hat.

    smoking? oh god… what a nightmare. withdrawal. quick puff. back to smoking. all i had to do was wait another 24 hours and the most hectic stuff would have passed.

    the moment that tipped the scales, actually, was when i got on the scales on saturday evening after not smoking since thursday lunch… i found three kilos that were not there on thursday morning. FUCK! anyway, discovered too late that it is water retention cos of nicotine’s effect on insulin levels.

    anyway – now i have more info the next attempt should go better. maybe lock myself away somewhere for four days.

  4. oo oo oo – i’ve *so* been there before. not very often mind. but when provoked and staggering through said “injun territory” i attack hygiene, upbringing, morals and religion of said conversee at volumes which defy the laws of physics at pitches bordering on canine, until tears, heart tremors and a whole rethink of f*cking with me ever again occurs. but otherwise i’m quite sweet really.

  5. dolce says:

    KC fuggit, I did that for two years before I finally just gave up. I say “just” loosely. I didn’t actually know I was giving up. I just wasn’t smoking right then, that minute. It took me three months before I could say out loud that I might be “not smoking right now” for a longer period of time. And another 3 months after that to say I’d given up. I didn’t think I could.

    And I put on 10 kilos. TEN! The little fuggers. I keep loosing some of them, but they find me, they do. Bastards.

    exGW Yikes, it’s a nasty little pot of shoe black, that land of “go go gaget talons in yer eyeballs”. I’ve even been know to go into “yo mama” mode. Which for a freckle nosed chick from souf effrika, is not pretty. But other than that, I’m quite sweet too. ;-P

  6. ds says:

    ja dolce, i get there too – often. there is something strangely addictive about rage…its special kind of ‘jouissance’…where the limits of pleasure open into the scream…but then, like one philosopher said, ‘it is from rage that thought is born, not the prose of reason’

  7. ramon says:

    Ace, Dolce – fuckin’ ace.
    Great post.

    A week ago I threw me keyboard so hard across the room, one of the keys – I think it was F – ricoched (spelling?) and hit me on the lip.

  8. Anonymous says:

    Dolce – great post. Know that feeling man……don’t like to deny the demons though – then they turn nasty.

    Ramon – funny it was the ‘f’ key that went *ucking *lying!!

    K Chas – what are you saying re. the no smoking – failure?

  9. Anonymous says:

    Oh yea – and Dolce – why were you ‘a tiny bit ticked off’ – what inspired this post – spill em woman!

  10. Dolce says:

    wow, that was annoying – wrote a whole response to DS that “vanished”. Nice!

    DS What I think I said was “nice word”! I intend to use it. (I had to look it up). But ja, exactly. There’s a joy in rage. I’ve heard it called a “singing rage”. Maybe that’s why we’re a society filled with it…it’s the only emotion we really feel with any intensity that feels good. All the apathy, frustration, depression, sadness…nothing compared to a good, cathartic bit of rage. Makes me ponder. And damn you, DS…I don’t have time to ponder today!

    Ramoan Aaah. The nice feel of a hammer in yer hand as you exhaust your rage on an inanimate object. My mum says that when I was a little girl, I would throw temper tantrums and trash my room like a little rock star. The last thing I beat up was a telephone. But these days I’m conscious that I’ll have to replace and clean up. *sigh* it’s no fun being a grown up!

    Anon Who are you? Are you being anonymous so I don’t get cross with you? As to what inspired the post….mmmm. A girl has to have some secrets.

  11. Dusty Muffin says:

    Dolce, Anonymous is Arbie. She’s off to a slow start this morning…

  12. dolce says:

    Dusty Aaah. Ok! Hiya Arbie!

  13. arbchick says:

    Aw crap – sorry Dolce – jeezuz – must remember to wake up before I get out of bed – Arbie is a silly billie bonker…

  14. 302 says:

    how perfectly moderate of you, to intellectualise these blimpy outbursts of sorts…eventually it’ll give way to good ol’ grumpy bad behaviour…he reckons…(chop)

  15. Dolce says:

    Who you calling a chop 😉

    Ag. I know 302, but I gotta have somewhere to pour the liquid ramblings of my liquifiying brain cavity. And here is as good a place as any. In real life, I think some bad behaviour is actually called for!

  16. ds says:

    yep, and i needed to look up how to spell it 😉

  17. Dolce says:

    And I got all wrapped up in pondering. 🙂

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