Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about, ummm, decompression and, uhhh, proud (?).

"I wonder where I could get a white drowf?" (Courtesy of Taz_Koby )

Huh?  

"What do you do to decompress when you're overwhelmed with anger or other negative emotions?"

Good afternoon friends! Sorry about the technical hiccup up there ...must be the internet is broken or something.

Ever feel like you can't wait to say something, until you finally get your chance and you have no idea what to say? That's how I feel right now...I saw this prompt last night and I thought, "Wow, that's pretty good...that could help a lot of people, myself included." And here I am now, drawing blanks like an impotent gunslinger.

I guess chocolate helps. And so does laughter...but sometimes I can get so overwhelmed that even the funniest things that draw the most emotion from me in a positive sense aren't enough, because my head's so far wrapped up inside itself that I swear if I were to try to put any more information up in there my brain would unravel out of my nostrils like intestines. Please, don't try to picture that. Y'all been warned.

Punching, throwing, and breaking shit is by far the most satisfying short-term solution there is, if your idea of "short-term" is about three seconds, or the length of time it takes you to either feel pain or recognize you just launched your cell phone through a television and you're gonna be out big dough because you're still under contract for the cell service and your tv's outta warranty.

And I know some of you might be expecting me to say music, but sometimes music conspires against me. When I'm in a bad place, "happy songs" tend to make things worse, and music that's more on the aggressive side can, well, see the previous paragraph. On top of that, if I don't really know what it is exactly I'll want to listen to, I'll set iTunes to shuffle and see what Steve Jobs would do if he took over the click-wheel of my destiny...which more often than not, I'm convinced, is a conspiracy to further me down the road to permanent aggravation, because wouldn't it be my luck that as soon as I start to come out of a funk, the right combination of lyrics and instruments will compel me to abstain from skipping a selection, setting my mood back in whatever increments are used to measure moods.

Therefore, I'm left with one option (and no, it's not masturbation  , ICYMI): opposite therapy. And no bullshit, sometimes it actually works! I learned about it in a book I once read, called Man's Search For Meaning   by Viktor Frankl, and in theory it's pretty simple. You have to psyche yourself out by thinking the opposite of your desired outcome. Now, this isn't recommended for most situations or circumstances, but it can help with decompressing from negative energies surrounding your aura (whoa, that sounds almost too "New Age-y" for my tastes).

I've used it (ok, along with prescribed controlled substances) to help with sleep on occasion. If I keep telling myself I'm gonna pull an all-nighter, I find myself mentally wearing out a little faster, thus decreasing the time between taking the Ambien and actually falling asleep.

And if I'm surrounded by negative vibes and malicious feelings, I have to force myself to think through them to get to the other side. I'm not talkin' "Winnie The Pooh, stuck for honey" forcing...I have to confront the absolute worst-case scenario all the way live in my head before I start to calm down.

Is it healthy? I dunno, but it doesn't sound like it. All I know is that it's worked for me, plenty o' times. Still haven't caught a case of manslaughter yet, and I've been in this bein' alive business for almost 40 years. I've been pushed as much as anybody- some would say maybe even more- and some have killed for less. I say that if I haven't by now, it's very unlikely I ever will. But let's not fuck around and find out, ok?

"When was the last time someone told you that they were proud of you?

Gosh...I don't know. Seriously. And I'm not just sayin' that because I'm fishin' for praise or need the attention because I'm being humble. I...don't know. I move on quickly from these moments, I guess. Maybe too quickly, or not fast enough from the times that are the opposite of making people proud of me, because those feelings tend to stick around a lot longer.

And don't get me wrong...I've made people legitimately proud in the past. I just don't socialize enough now to merit the consideration, so I don't think about it. I don't expect the grocery store clerk to say "Nice job filling up your basket!" as a single tear rolls down her cheek in deep admiration while I bow my head and shuffle my feet in shyness like "Awww, shucks ma'am ." I don't think that's how this "proud" thing is supposed to work.

All I can do is just be me, yo...do right with my opportunities to be a good person, kill clowns with kindness, and make the purdy ladies blush. Unless you're a dick to me...then I'll proudly put you in your rightful place.

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I might be the only person who once had this song as his ringtone. In fact, if I dug up my old BlackBerry, it probably is still set to Texas Is The Reason.

Damn shame this band only released one full album and one three-song EP, because it's a sound I can simultaneously dance emo-riffically to and get completely lost inside of.

Like I've said hundreds of times I'm sure, I'm constantly in my own head way too much. I worry for no reason, I fret (often without reason) wondering if I've done or said the wrong thing, and no one will ever be harder on me about my faults or shortcomings than me. There's nothing you can say to me most of the time that will change how I feel about certain things, short of an honest-to-goodness miracle. I know...I must be an absolute joy to be around .

But it's also a pretty solid defense mechanism and preparatory skill, because there aren't a whole lot of things people can do to bother me that I haven't seen or been through before. In that light, they're scars I'm not ashamed of. I haven't seen it all, but I've seen enough to know that maybe I've seen too much.

Ok, I'll stop now. For Day 12 in "The Soundtrack of Your Life" , here's "A Jack With One Eye" by Texas Is The Reason.

"You'll have to try harder than that.
You'll have to dig deeper than that.
Reminds me of myself."
Lyrics.  

As per brothernature's note this afternoon ("Note: *Thought**People**Thought**^*Person*^..."), there's a party goin' on this Saturday over at "Invalid Item" , and I don't know if I'm allowed to do this, but I'm inviting everyone, provided they don't bring she who shall not be named, Sister Mary Muggingsworth. I don't know what all's gonna go down at this shindig, but it'll be Valentine's Day, and we're not Valentines, so don't get any crazy ideas about gettin' me saucy just so's you can take advantage of li'l ol' me. Ya heard?

And while I'm out pumpin' tires, have you seen the note Elle dropped off for everyone this morning ("Note: Merit badge challenge The [Link To It...")? Please check it out...proceeds go to a friggin' sweet cause (the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" ), and if you're nice enough there might be a li'l sum-sum in it for you too.

I know you're not all Sabres fans, or hockey fans, or know what it's like to finish dead last at your chosen profession...but the Sabres are an abysmal hockey team this year and are in the midst of rebuilding the roster quickly so that they're at least competitive sooner rather than later and for a substantial period of time. While I'm not totally a fan of the idea that "losing is winning", this article   makes a lot of sense to me as far as how we should feel when the team we root for (unless you're in Edmonton) sucks more than everyone else for an extended period of time.

And speaking somewhat of sports, Saturday Night Live is celebrating its 40th anniversary this season, so FOX Sports put together this list of memorable appearances   by star athletes.

Alright, well, it certainly feels like I've expended enough energy doing this for one day. Maybe I'll see you guys again soon. Peace, raise it up so I can see, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!