Is a look when you look look look look into somebody's eyes
and you know that they'd just as soon kill you as smile
Augie March, Song in the Key of Chance

This in the wake of last night:
To men (and women, and anyone else feeling fucked over):

As it currently stands, I do not represent 'women' as a whole, they have not accepted me as their all-powerful leader as yet... so I'm not qualified to take the shit for something a woman once did to a guy. Conversely, although I don't know the female equivalent of 'misogynist', but I am not about to become one because I've had a few fuckwits screw me over in the past. True, I don't really know exactly what past people have and what it did to them, but it is my personal belief that people are largely responsible for their own personal level of fucked-up-ness. Fucked up shit happens to everyone on a daily basis... and if you can't control the level of shit you're accepting into your life, you can at least control your own reactions to it. If you're fucked up, by all means do what you do... go to your dark place, hit things, shed tears, do whatever is going to bring you release... but then get out. Don't drag everyone else in there with you, unless you're planning to shed some light.

Perhaps this sounds harsh... perhaps tomorrow I'll go back to being the sensitive soul that I typically am... more than likely, dammit.

(To the man with the paranoia - in case there was any doubt, this is not about you).

Excuse my self-righteousness... I know I am not being asked to answer for the sins of all women, but a few contemptuous remarks and barbed comments just got my back up last night... fortunately I didn't realise just how much until I was in the solitude of my own home, else I may have been more blunt than I was. I know it's not a personal attack but it still gives me the shits... and on another plane, I think perhaps the energy building between the Writer and I after yet another long goodbye last night has been channelled into the wrong places, helping fuel my aggression...

So here is my release. As well as Augie March on the radio, loud, on my way to school. That, and the blessed release in the dark on my own last night... thrice. I got self indulgent.

This morning I kind of still had my back up, but it was working for me today... I had some issues about work, in particular being in the shadow of a past teacher at two of my schools, and today with my mood I simply had no choice but to vent them. I was so glad that I did because I was stood up for, I was completely backed in my methods by my boss and I went to work this afternoon at my most difficult school and taught with the most clarity that I have felt in a while, because I am actually a good teacher and today I believed it. Sometimes I guess you just need to hear it.

However, on the way home, I got to thinking about various things... my thinking is very erratic at the moment. One recurring thought was 'what the fuck is wrong with me, what the fuck is wrong with me, what the fuck is wrong with me'. I guess I am going to my dark place tonight, I got a bottle of Beam and I'm not afraid to use it... and I'm thinking of laying low for a couple of days. I have overloaded on being social lately, and tonight I am feeling decidedly anti. Back to normal, basically. Tomorrow will be one extreme or the other - I'll be laying low, or dancing my butt of tomorrow night. Haven't decided yet, except that I sure as hell am not going anywhere tonight. Who knows, all may be well tomorrow... as I said, my thoughts have been somewhat erratic of late.

What a fuckin' sentence, what a fuckin' noise
I don't know these girls, I don't trust these boys
Augie March, There's Something at the Bottom of the Black Pool

PS This is not about anyone else actually, just me. It's all about me. Always. I really want to write 'fuck you all' here... but I'm not that far gone. Ever. What's wrong with me?

Later: PPS I'm gone enough, but still not going to say fuck you all, because I may be jaded at 24 but not so bad as I was at 19, and I'm still sober enough to correct my typos. And you... yeah, you. Could you write what you really think, just once, without inhibition? I am curious. Satisfy me. Scare me.

Before After

© Blueshoe 1999-2005