The Rage has been a part of every human that has ever walked the planet, and will reside within all new blood to grace this earth henceforth! The Rage occupies a small space in the depths of the human body, between the stomach and the soul. It doesn't matter if you are the most peaceful and placid person in existence, The Rage is within you and will rise to the surface on occasion. Fortunately for most of us this happens in our most private moments when there are no prying eyes to witness our shame.
For anyone still wondering what The Rage is, allow me to explain. The Rage is that moment in the morning where you just can’t remove your shirt from the hanger in the wardrobe, resulting in a furious over exertion of strength that causes the hanger to cripple under the strain and explode into a dozen fragments. Now standing there with shirt in hand you kick the shards of the mangled hanger across the room as you curse the STUPID BASTARDS who crafted such a feeble instrument, because it clearly wasn't built to withstand the 10,000 tonnes of pressure you just forced through it! The Rage is the furious tussle you have with the duvet covers as you try to make your bed, franticly waving your arms madly as you discover your apparent inability to get the four corners of the duvet into the four corners of the duvet cover! It is the man that has been attempting to dig up a tiny shrub for 30 minutes and ends up throttling the scrawny bush moments after hurling his shovel ten feet across the garden at it. It is the person that frantically tugs and jerks the zipper on their jacket (that they have calmly attempted to do-up seven times already, without success) screaming "I WILL NOT BE BEATEN BY A FUCKING ZIP!!"
It was a recent bout of The Rage that led me to question what it is and why it manifests itself. I was playing my guitar and became hugely frustrated to the point that I raked the pick over the strings with such fury and poor musicianship that one of the strings snapped and recoiled like the crack of a whip, giving me a bloody finger for my trouble! My reaction was to drop the instrument that had lead to my intense displeasure and state outloud to myself "I'M NOT SORRY!!"
Ultimately The Rage is a suffocating sense of frustration that comes from being unable to accomplish something you think you should be able to achieve with ease. But it is an overwhelming anger disproportionate to your insignificant failure. It is your way of showing the powers of the universe that in moments when tact, skill and sanity abscond, you will result to the most basic of human abilities, that of brute force! "If the wall is too high for me to climb, I will simply smash through it!" And as sweet as your success is when you stand there with your shirt in hand, devoid of hanger, there is an awful sense of shame in your victory as you survey the devastated remains of a brave hanger, guts spilled out across your carpet, that was only doing his job! From the wardrobe you can almost hear the sobbing of the other hangers for their fallen friend, and you are left wondering, what caused this day to begin with such a horrific act?
Fortunately, for those of an easier disposition, there is an upside to The Rage... it can make us laugh! If after your riotous outburst you can take a moment to float up out of your body, look down on yourself and see how truly foolish you look, and laugh, then you have secured the only victory that was ever there to be won from the start! Ultimately, if you can't laugh at yourself for causing such uproar over something so trivial you won’t be able to banish The Rage back to that dark corner in your subconscious. Laughter really is the best medicine and I salute those with the power to laugh at themselves. Now excuse me, I have to go and buy some new hangers!
For anyone still wondering what The Rage is, allow me to explain. The Rage is that moment in the morning where you just can’t remove your shirt from the hanger in the wardrobe, resulting in a furious over exertion of strength that causes the hanger to cripple under the strain and explode into a dozen fragments. Now standing there with shirt in hand you kick the shards of the mangled hanger across the room as you curse the STUPID BASTARDS who crafted such a feeble instrument, because it clearly wasn't built to withstand the 10,000 tonnes of pressure you just forced through it! The Rage is the furious tussle you have with the duvet covers as you try to make your bed, franticly waving your arms madly as you discover your apparent inability to get the four corners of the duvet into the four corners of the duvet cover! It is the man that has been attempting to dig up a tiny shrub for 30 minutes and ends up throttling the scrawny bush moments after hurling his shovel ten feet across the garden at it. It is the person that frantically tugs and jerks the zipper on their jacket (that they have calmly attempted to do-up seven times already, without success) screaming "I WILL NOT BE BEATEN BY A FUCKING ZIP!!"
It was a recent bout of The Rage that led me to question what it is and why it manifests itself. I was playing my guitar and became hugely frustrated to the point that I raked the pick over the strings with such fury and poor musicianship that one of the strings snapped and recoiled like the crack of a whip, giving me a bloody finger for my trouble! My reaction was to drop the instrument that had lead to my intense displeasure and state outloud to myself "I'M NOT SORRY!!"
Ultimately The Rage is a suffocating sense of frustration that comes from being unable to accomplish something you think you should be able to achieve with ease. But it is an overwhelming anger disproportionate to your insignificant failure. It is your way of showing the powers of the universe that in moments when tact, skill and sanity abscond, you will result to the most basic of human abilities, that of brute force! "If the wall is too high for me to climb, I will simply smash through it!" And as sweet as your success is when you stand there with your shirt in hand, devoid of hanger, there is an awful sense of shame in your victory as you survey the devastated remains of a brave hanger, guts spilled out across your carpet, that was only doing his job! From the wardrobe you can almost hear the sobbing of the other hangers for their fallen friend, and you are left wondering, what caused this day to begin with such a horrific act?
Fortunately, for those of an easier disposition, there is an upside to The Rage... it can make us laugh! If after your riotous outburst you can take a moment to float up out of your body, look down on yourself and see how truly foolish you look, and laugh, then you have secured the only victory that was ever there to be won from the start! Ultimately, if you can't laugh at yourself for causing such uproar over something so trivial you won’t be able to banish The Rage back to that dark corner in your subconscious. Laughter really is the best medicine and I salute those with the power to laugh at themselves. Now excuse me, I have to go and buy some new hangers!
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you write well stuey. you should turn this into a song. i'll be your biggest fan!
ReplyDeletexx
The buddha says "You will not be punished for your anger, you will be punished by your anger."
ReplyDeleteand drink water!