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Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Under Pressure

Way back in school, an English teacher said that a writer is someone who has to write. If you don't have the need, you won't be a writer. I got it when she said that. It doesn't matter if you're a good writer or a bad writer, what matters is the need.

There have been things going on that I really want to write about but can't blog about. And since my time is filled, and my house is still the wreck of the Hesperus, I can't go dig out a journal to spill my guts. So instead of saying directly what's going on I'll just talk about the effects of not being able to write about something. You see, what goes on in others' lives has an impact and when someone close is in Hell, you're gonna get burned.

How you deal with that burning sensation is up to you. Also depends on what tools you use to cope and whether they're appropriate. To my mind, writing is the best coping tool I have. It organizes my thoughts, takes me out of the emotional quicksand. If I can't do that I get antsy. And when I get antsy I don't sleep much. When I don't sleep much I get pissy. Once I get pissy it's all downhill. Pressure brings momentum and at some point I'll mouth off in a most sarcastic and hurtful way. I don't mean to, but I do. There is just so much I can tolerate and have patience for before I blow. It's so ingrained in me to have a low tolerance for chronic whining that if I offer solutions that are summarily dismissed I lose control. Of course that goes back to my own shit from childhood, but it's not something I'm going to change. Whining doesn't get my respect. It's annoying and selfish and gets one nowhere because it just engenders more of the same. And in my Viking mentality when something's wrong you fix it, period. And you always take care of business; falling apart is not an option when there's work to be done. I'm sure I'm considered fucked in the squash by the world of therapy victims who live in their emotions but I don't care. It works for me.

Add to that the recent horrifying catastrophes that have fallen on people I care about who have every reason to wallow in despair but don't, and the lid blows much quicker. A lot like when my mom was canning blueberries and the pressure cooker exploded. A huge BOOM! and then goop all over the place.

Well, I guess that let off some of the steam. I danced all the way around the subject without particulars. I'll try to keep the lid on today. I didn't last night.

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