A place for a rational moderate to escape from liberal, conservative, and (especially) religious extremism.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
No one called down the thunder, but everyone around is getting the "boom."
My kids used to watch the dumbest video:
This video is a retelling of Hansel and Gretal, starring Howie Mandel as the Sandman (don't ask, just take LSD before watching). In it, an ogre (Bobcat Goldthwaite) picks a fight with the sandman. The sandman retorts, " you called down the thunder..."
My mood, of late, makes just about as much sense as that horrible movie. I am GRUMPY. I feel fury all the time. I repress this behavior during work hours... come home... and, skulk about like a rattlesnake looking for a rat.
Last night my teenagers decided to poke the snake with a stick.
Teenagers argue.
I get it.
But, I offered them no rattle in warning. I simply opened my can of stupid and mean, and gave them an earful of profanity that would have made a sailor blush. As they protested, I used physical intimidation as my next brilliant move. I moved just inches from my sons face and gave him a little push backwards. His sister (sitting on a stool beside him) attempted to verbally come to his defense. Brain-surgeon me would have NONE OF IT. I pushed my wonderful daughter off the chair. She hit the floor, and sat frozen, and bewildered at her fathers behavior.
Not to end things, but make them worse, I moved back into my sons face. I moved forward, and he moved backwards. His eyes began to tear with fear. He looked at his sister. And said, "c'mon sis, let's get out of the house." With that they headed outside.
The competition between my shame and fury was quite the battle. For 20 minutes, or so, my fury won out. As the blood began to seep, slowly, back into my cerebral cortex I began to realize what an asshole I had been.
The two people in this world which I have the obligation to make safe and happy, had (as the result of my actions) found someone who made them sad and afraid. "F" in parenting yesterday... that is for damned sure.
Twenty-four hours later, things are starting to move towards normal. We are making eye contact again. But the wife is doing all the talking.
Yet, I am still so angry. Why? All I want is to scream, strut my hour upon the stage with sound and fury, and weep. Where the hell is it coming from?
Perhaps politics, work, and repressed client-induced therapy pain are converging to thunder the storm upon my psyche? It needs to abate soon, or find release. Either way... it sucks to behave like such an ass. Just sayin'
unHH =(
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Finally..
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