Sometime last week I hit this really weird mad funk that caused me to not be as nice as I would normally be in relation to the people around me. Does that make a lick of sense? Probably not. The long and short of the last several days is I have been upset and mad and have taken it out on / wanted to take it out on the people around me.
There was no reason I could point at to suggest why I was in this mad funk. That is probably more frustrating to me than almost anything else I?ve done or have been doing. To be mad, swearing mad, making biting remarks at people and events around me, and not knowing what is causing it. Needful to say, the past several days have been rather frustrating to me. I?d say the problem is sexual frustration, but 32 and celibate means that goes hand-in-hand ? there?s another reason that I?m not seeing.
Normally church helps with these moods, but even church seemed to get in the way of something else. Something else is the mad funk. The mad funk is not a positive thing. The outcome was that most everyone I came in contact with got the wicked side of my tongue, mood. I?ll try to repeat that again in another paragraph soon.
Last night, I sat down and started writing in my journal. We?re not talking the BLOG (stands for web log) but rather a pen and paper journal that I keep. I?ve got a few of these, they are now a significant feature on one of the bookshelves I own; yet, there I was writing down ideas, blurbs, rather than writing down ? whatever. The journal is supposed to catalogue my life and it?s been months since I?d had a significant entry. To me, that?s a bit sad. A lot has changed in my life, internally; that I?m not sure I have what it takes to just sit and write in the journal what is going on around me.
Once my jumbled thoughts were down on paper, though, I seemed to calm down and mellow out. Now that?s weird. What does my writing thought?s down on paper have to do with my being mad and upset or not? However, I wrote, I calmed, I went to bed. I like bed. Bed is good.
Therein lays the problem, the run, if you will. I was mad about things I had no idea what they were and the act of writing in my journal thoughts I recognize as having yesterday, and not in the preceding days, immediately calms down the storm raging inside of me. Talk about weird. Talk about totally disconnected ways and forms of life. Talk about the subtle changes in dynamics throughout my life. Talk about the need for things that have never really been ?needs? in my life.
I think I am done ?bitchin? for the moment. More later ? I?m sure.