When Life Gives You Anger . . .

. . . make some really angry lemonade.

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This is going to be a very, very weird question.

But, I must ask my fellow bloggers, my blogsters, all you blogging bloggers of the blogsphere:

Have you ever felt the need to really hurt someone? Either physically or mentally?

If you have, was there something within you that urged you along? Did you despise yourself or your life in someway? How much of your anger towards others has ever been a reflection of your own anger directed inward that perhaps you never noticed?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about bullies, about manipulators, about those parents who go on day time talk shows and swear to the God they put their knees on the filthy floor for that one day their child will grow up and be the next Columbine Shooters or the next creepy old guy down the street who secretly severs the heads of corpses in his basement.

There’s a difference between the columbine shooters, or the kid that brings a gun to school, or the bullies in the hall, and people in terrorist groups like ISIS who are brainwashed into believing what they are doing for a divine power–if we consider the divine power their own arrogance and delusional pride in their country.

The kid that brings a gun to school is not brainwashed, and they’re not always bullied. Something else is going on.

People spend enormous amounts of time trying to figure out just why these kids seemingly flip a switch.

tumblr_inline_mjksn3cctm1qz4rgpI was never a child who fantasized about shooting up the school. I was, however, a master manipulator. Although I stayed silent, I’m very good at mimicking behavior and observing how others interact with each other. I didn’t understand how friendships were made, or how they were maintained, or why I never felt like a human among all the other humans, but I did form a sort of algorithm in my head. It essentially mapped out words, expressions, and personalities.

I could smell bullshit from a mile away.

I could smell a genuine soul from a mile away.

I couldn’t talk to you, and sometimes I couldn’t understand what you asked me, but if you wanted a personality profile, I could whip it up in five seconds easily.

I gained a sort of arrogance from this, because suddenly I had a power. Suddenly I knew more about these people then they knew that I knew. Suddenly I could sniff out the quiet kids in class, the ones that were easiest for me to talk to because their personalities were often hidden under anxiety or general disinterest, and snatch them.

I had teachers eating out of my hand, so when I got in a fight on campus with a girl faker than a stick-on tattoo, the teacher blamed her and let me walk away. I dealt and smoked drugs under their noses, I passed classes without ever turning in homework. I had some kids afraid of me, others wanting to, quite literally “follow” me.

Suddenly I had another power, all based on beating others down. And that, to someone consistently emotionally neglected at home, someone who had no real place to fit in other than in her head, someone who ached so terribly inside that shoving that on others created this weird “confidence”, was priceless.

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Many people with anxiety, or trouble speaking up, get bullied. Most people are surprised when I tell them I never did. I never did because I was the bully. And I will admit I’ve often had trouble understanding people’s pain of being bullied. My response was, very unemotionally: “well, fight back”.

But I know it’s not that easy for some. I didn’t learn to respect that until I was around nineteen years old.

I often went after people who could not, or would not, stand up to me. They were the easiest to feed off. The lower they sunk to the ground, the better I felt. I was like that snake in the grass you can’t see, so when you creep around with your back turned, I sink my teeth in your fleshy ass globes.

There were a few times I attacked some people making fun of special needs students, and those special needs students ended up becoming my friends throughout the years. I still consider those justified.

Anxiety is a beast:

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Anger is a behemoth:

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I see red when enraged, and I black out. I’m one of those kind of people.

So when people got an idea that they would try and talk down to me or argue with me, I would be in their face in a split second, fist ready. And yes, I’m a girl. I didn’t put up with bullshit because I had to put up with bullshit at home.

But what I find most interesting about all these experiences is that . . . you know how you find someone and feel such a strong love or adoration for them, that it spreads from person to person? Now that I’m older, and much less prone to be ignorant (although perhaps still a little manipulative, I’m not proud of it), I find it very ironic that inner pain works in very much the same way. If you’re pained inside, it spreads. If you have much love inside, it spreads.

Often, the pain on the inside, if it’s strong enough, overshadows that love and as a result, you have someone willing to hurt others for the sake of feeling paid attention to, for the sake of having an outlet, for the sake of having a moment of power in a world, or environment, that makes you feel powerless.

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That seems obvious. But I think it’s often overlooked when it comes to bullies, mass shootings, or fighting in general. If this is how our kids and our world reacts to each other, what does that say about the vibes we’re spreading? 

This isn’t a behavioral problem. This isn’t a mental health problem. This is an inner peace problem. This is a power struggle problem. This is a competitive problem. This is a problem of people feeling like they need to better than the next person, so that next person feels they need to be better than the next person, and so on when in reality none of it matters once you’re lowered in the ground.

This post was inspired by some thoughts I left on another blog, and my own urges tonight. Often I get uncontrollable urges (that I usually manage to control) to fight someone. I just want to grab someone by the hair and smash their teeth into the ground and kick their throat in, or I want to tell someone to come toke a bowl or two with me. I want to feel that power of being in control as I drown in an environment and head of mine that is so utterly out of control.

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Not Going To Argue

The first step to rationalizing your feelings is understanding them on a logical level. Anger is something I’ve struggled with for many, many years. This helps.

Fun With A Camera

As some of you know, one of my hobbies is photography.

I’ve never thought of pursuing anything professionally ( in terms of taking classes, studying my heart out, and making a career out of this) but I do enjoy learning what I can about contrast, about lighting, about angles, about context and all other aspects of the art.

I probably know nothing. But I like to think I do.

My mother made a suggestion that I make a calendar with photographs specific to each month because I shot this on Christmas:

Merica

I could probably get rid of that candy cane off to the side. It’s a give or take in my eyes.

I would like to get into shooting more abstract things, and portraits. I’d like to do some good cityscapes too. I enjoyed doing this on the roadway:Highway Robbery

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I just like messing around. I think the effects are cool.

This bird says hello. I made him a little more . . . artistic and aesthetically pleasing to my eyes, as you can probably tell:

Lonely crow

But nature has it’s own beauty and when I went out to the cliffs this evening to do some homework away from this chaotic household, I stopped halfway up the driveway and ran back into the house for my camera case and camera. I figured if I caught the sunset, I could get some cool shots. Here are a few:

Seacliff Bay

Cement ship

Full Wharf

Ocean View

Sundown

Luckily the roar of the ocean on the sands edge below drowned out the screeching Superbowl fans from the houses across the street.

At the end of the day only me and one smoker guy were left admiring the skyline and sinking cement boat off in the distance.

Once again: cement boat. Not one of humanity’s greatest inventions. 

Whether I’m horrendous at shots or generally “alright” for an amateur, photography is like a meditation to me. My head zones out and I focus only on what I need to focus on; I see the patterns and the shapes and the opportunities and for a chunk of time I think of nothing else lest that something else have an importance towards my original focus. I emerge from the experience refreshed, at one with myself, with my camera and with whatever random event or object I’ve etched into a digital file.

Photos to me snap more than a quick moment in time, they hold within them a quick moment of myself, a moment of my thoughts, and I see that reflection in them.

It’s much like writing a fiction piece or manuscript; your characters will always have a sliver (or more) of you in them and you will notice that reflection whether you intended for it to be or not.

If I don’t see myself in the art I create, I feel no attachment and often scrap it. Art is for the self as much as it is for the enjoyment of others. I think that’s what makes it often so undeniably momentous.

Let Me Drop A Bomb Of My Own

Alright you know I have to say my piece on Paris.

I’ve been coming across random posts about it and I’ve just been sitting here waiting, lurking, eager for more information to come out. These things are always touchy subjects, especially in western civilization. It’s sparking a lot of fear (if you didn’t already know, America is known for it’s Culture Of Fear) and a lot of heartache.

Of course my heart goes out to the people of Paris who lost their lives, the people of Paris who lost their family and their friends, and the people of Paris who are now living in a state of emergency. It’s a moment in time that will affect the rest of many people’s lives in the worst way possible. For that reason it’s disheartening.

I hear a lot of people saying “we’re all in this together, stop the senseless killing.”

I hear a lot of people saying “we have to love each other, you guys.”

I hear a lot of people saying “fucking terrorists”

I hear even more people saying “fucking terrorists are going to come over here!” 

And now that it’s been revealed ISIS was behind the attacks, I’m sure I’m going to hear a lot more of “Fucking Islamic terrorists!”

Hmmm. Let me take a moment before I open my big ass mouth.

Stop. Stop with the “we’re all in this together” stop with the “fucking Islamic terrorists” stop with the fear. Stop and silence yourself. Now think.

ISIS is obviously a radical group. They obviously have an affinity for decapitation and mutilation and violence. There is no question about that.

And so do we. There is no question about that.

France vowed to get their revenge according to an article that was released two hours ago. They declared it an “act of war”.

Lets get one thing fucking straight here. This isn’t anything new. It shouldn’t be shocking. When you’re over in the middle east shooting down families, burning huts, blatantly disrespecting their religious choices, you think that’s not an act of war? You think it’s alright for all these armies to storm in there claiming they fight for “Freedom” (whatever the fuck that means) when really they only provide weapons and aide to the allied countries that supply them with oil? You think those haven’t been acts of war?

These attacks are not random. This is a cauldron of bullshit that has been bubbling for years and ISIS just happens to be one of the radical groups with enough power and craziness to act. So yes, you should be scared; there’s now a group with enough power to play your little game back at you.

This is not to say killing innocent people is alright. I feel deeply for the people of Paris; the citizens have done nothing to deserve this, just as the citizens in all those middle eastern countries did nothing to deserve the attacks on them.

You ever notice in all the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and such, we never got the true numbers of how many of their people died. We got the number of our soldiers. We were taught to grieve for our soldiers (and rightfully) but we don’t hear about the families torn to shreds, the children living in fear, the parents struggling to walk outside of their house to get food in fear of getting caught in the crossfire between radical groups and western troops.

And let’s also consider why the fuck groups like this even form. Yes, many have a religious agenda. Many hate their government (and have reason to). Others are like the Guerrilla’s in “When The Mountains Tremble”; they’re fighting because people are fighting them.

Let’s flip this around. Say America has some nice resources the rest of the world depended on. Let’s say we had civil unrest and our government was struggling and Europe wasn’t willing to save our ass and let’s say there were several groups formed throughout the country fighting for power. Would you agree to have ISIS over here and force their will and their agenda upon us with their guns and their tanks and their soldiers so they can secure their cash crop on our land?

My point? Mind your own fucking business.

Stay the fuck out of countries and countries will stay the fuck out of you.

I don’t care how much oil you loose. I’ll drive a Fred Flintstones car, I don’t give a fuck.

ISIS is a result of all this past bullshit. Yes, they’re militant and yes they’re religion based and they’re obviously ruthless, but they came from countries torn apart by unrest and foreign armies and induced poverty and government corruption. They started with radical demands for their own country, not anyone else’s. This attack wasn’t random, and the following attacks won’t be random. This is unrest that’s been bubbling for years and years and now it’s spilling over the rim.

That much hate doesn’t develop out of thin air. If the entirety of ISIS are enraged sociopaths than I’ll bite my tongue, but I don’t think that’s the case.

War is never about peace or freedom; war is about money, it’s about divided beliefs, and it’s about allied countries.

An article already speculates ISIS struck Paris because America finances Saudi Arabia.

What the fuck does that have to do with peace, religion, freedom, or any of that bullshit?

Okay, Okay, if I haven’t convinced you, consider this: How could something as gruesome as war blossom into something as pure as peace? It doesn’t. No one’s been fighting for freedom or justice. ISIS hasn’t, America hasn’t; the last justifiable war was World War 2 and I will forever stand my ground on that.

Anyone feel a World War 3 approaching? The best thing we can hope for is that everyone will be so busy taking selfies with their guns to show how badass they are hardly anyone will get killed.

So to those who say “why can’t we live in peace and love each other?”, there’s your answer. Because it’s never been about peace or love. It’s never been about helping people, it’s never been about embracing freedom and human rights because all three principals are violated in the midst of war. ON BOTH SIDES.

Why don’t we grieve both for Paris and for the countries ISIS has bombarded? For all the families that have been torn apart by governmental and military industrial complexes? And grieve for ISIS; they’re lost people. They grew up in war and the only thing to cling to in the midst of horror is faith, religion, God–everything else gets blown to hell. They’re fighting for what they believe in because they’ve had nothing else to believe in. That’s not giving them an excuse to murder. It’s proving to you there is humanity amidst tragedy and pain and delusion.

If you truly believe in “World Peace”, if you truly wish we could “all love each other”, if you truly believe we’re all apart of each other, than you’ll be able to have compassion for even the most diabolical, the most freakish, the most fiendish, loathsome monster.

If you truly believe in worldly unity, in Truth, in love, than you’ll be like the mother who hugs her child’s killer in an act of acknowledgement, in an act of selflessness and realization that hurt occurred in their life as well.

You’ll be the one who understands the difference between compassion for these people and justification of their actions.

We’ve been structured to have emotions only for ourselves, only for our great country and our great values. We aren’t taught to explore the possibilities of other’s hurt. We’re taught to see that what ISIS did was wrong but not to understand that it wasn’t unprovoked.

It’s good to live in the present; it’s atrocious to live without acknowledgement for the past and that’s what we’ve been doing. I’ll say it once more; groups like this don’t pop out of the ground.

I’ll also say this once more: ISIS has no justifiable reason for their murders. Rarely is there any justifiable reason for murder. What they did was disgusting, it’s horrendous, it’s soul crushing. As is every other bombing, shooting, and act of war across the span of the globe. This is nothing new and it’s nothing shocking. Stop acting like it.

Acknowledge what you’ve done, learn from where you’ve been, and apply it to the present. Once government/military agents, radicals, and religious sects come to this sort of consensus, once we all realize our world is only as humane as our strongest opposition to humanity, maybe then we can claim ourselves progressive and civilized.

Until then, I’d get used to considering yourself primitive.

P.S: I think everyone would do well to educate themselves about actual Islamic practices. ISIS should do this more than anyone. 

P.S.S: America will have it’s time. We’re not invincible and neither is Europe. I’d suggest they all examine this truth a little more closely.