Defense mechanisms that no longer serve us

I hate the fact that my anger isn't instantaneous, that instead of exploding quickly and efficiently so I can deal with it at the time it has to come to a very slow rolling boil and often not until it's far too late to do anything about it.

Ah well. timarok called an hour and change ago and I've only now hit boiling. (That's an improvement, it usually takes half a day.) The trouble is I can't quite put my finger on exactly why, I'm not sure whether I'm mad at him directly, the situation, the gods, Di, all of the above, none of the above or what. But I don't really care at this point. Why is it that we can feel other random schiesse and not have to explain it, and yet we constantly have to justify anger?

I think I'm going to revel in just being refreshingly pissed off for once. While I'm at it, I'm going to finish burning both sides of the tape I'm working on for gossamer_gull, set it up to record on my stereo, and ride off a little of this mood before the sun goes down.

The story of a mood swing

As told by the Neko Kao's Kitties.



There you have it, my life in a line of blue bouncing cats. Except really what would be happening is that they would be swinging from one end to the other in one continuous gif which I don't have the time nor the inclination to make right now.

Returned from my bike ride sweaty and glad I went when I did, as I beat the last rays of the setting sun, however my mood was not improved and I returned, if conceivable, more torqued than when I left. Basically all that's been playing in my head are a chorus of fuck yous. fuck you for being the way you are, fuck you for the warning, fuck you for ignoring the warning, fuck you for making your bed and lying in it (literally and figuratively), fuck you for thinking you own him, fuck you for thinking you could own him, fuck you for taking him, fuck you for wanting him, fuck you for being him, fuck you for fucking him up, fuck you for fucking him, fuck you for fucking everyone over, fuck you you fuckety fuck fuck fuck. The targets of these fuck yous change from minute to minute and often include myself. And in  between all of this is the little voice of reason that tells me I'm overreacting dreadfully to all of this. But what, I don't have a right to overreact to something every once in a while?

To those directly involved, yes (no?), plans weren't actually made, so technically they couldn't have been broken. But I don't cope well with disappointment, though it looks like I do. So don't get my hopes up unless you're absolutely sure you have your act together enough to follow through. I'm rapidly tiring of being the one short shrifted all the time in this celebrity batshit circus we're living.

Ok, rant getting personal. Which means time for me to stop livejournaling, take out the trash, and get dressed, 'cause gossamer_gull's picking me up in two hours.

Pen and Addam BETTER not have a crap music night, otherwise I'm going to be even MORE pissed.

Bloody brilliant.

Just looked at a calendar.

*facepalm*

I hate the very existence of the concept of PMS, and how it is even now within my own goddamned brain working to completely invalidate anything I do, say and feel. Fuck that. I'm pissed off, that's my story, I'm sticking to it, and no hormonal fuckety fuck has anything to do with that. Damn it.

Excuse me, I have to go dress like a gypsy ho now.