Leaving aside yesterday's confession regarding the wearing of someone else's pants - which I am doing right now - both the leaving aside and the wearing - I have some surprising things to report today about this week's shabby behavior.
The first is that for the first time in my life, I have had thoughts that might rightly be described as violent. I know this may come as a shock. Indeed, I am shocked myself. So i'll just get on with the business of humiliating myself by describing my recent violent thoughts (and occasional violent actions). (Yes, there was real violence, on two occasions).
One of the instances of fantasy violence involves work, so I can't describe in too much detail for fear that the one lurker I have (who happens to reside in a certain place that will remain unmentioned) could be my boss. So I'll put it this way: when you tell 80 people to complete a three part process by midnight on a specific day, you should (if you are me) expect only 38 of those people to complete it correctly. The other 42 will deviate from the directions between step 1 and 2 and nearly all of them will lie to you about it because they don't want to get a zero. The rest will contrive a narrative in which it is also somehow your (my) fault that they didn't follow the directions. By the time you have explained the directions again and again and again and again over your cell phone, which, by the way cuts out every two and a half minutes so that you have to start and stop that same phone call over and over and over again, you will be fiercely glad you live in a state such water-tight gun-control laws. In fact, there might be a provision in there that says teachers can't own firearms. I am in favor of it. Otherwise I might have been in jail by now. (The irony, of course, is that none of these miscreants lives within shooting distance. Awesome, no?)
A second instance requires no special description either because I think you all know that I threw a tuna fish sandwich against the wall the other day. Why did I do that? Well, it was disgusting, but more to the point, I had spent the remaining money I had left in the world to buy it. Why was I so short of cash? Because Panic once again, chose not to complete the paperwork to get me paid on time.
Last and finally, when I realized that my syllabus and most of my course materials were destroyed when my hard drive crashed the other week - well. After calculating the number of hours I did not have to replace all that work, I might have ripped the leg off my desk chair and thrown it at the wall. It hit the window.
It felt great.
I am not sorry.
What does this mean? I have never been like this before in my entire life. Never, ever have I wished harm to stupid people. I might have made just a little bit of fun, but I didn't want to bash their faces in for wasting my time and disrespecting the CONTRACT they signed when they entered my class. Never before have I been so childish as to throw food just because I hate it and I am mad at someone else. Never, ever have I destroyed my own furniture because I am so ever-loving OVER things sucking the ass crack of hell for no apparent reason. Never. I scare myself.
I am sure my childish fit-throwing is temporary, anyway, since as previously noted, I have never responded to stress in quite this way before.
If you care to comment,* leave out the part where you think I am dangerous and should be permanently stored in a padded room. Instead, put in stories of your own childish fit throwing. If you have ever broken your own toys, tell me today. I sort of need to hear it.
Happy Sunday
*Oh and by the way, yes. Yes, I know I have fallen off on responding to comments and visiting your blogs. I am working on it. I will be better to you all very very soon. Promise.
17 comments:
The "best" thing I ever broke was an irreplaceable Speedy Gonzales collector's glass when I was about 14. It was that or walk out on my senile grandmother. Yeah, breaking shit is fun.
You know, I think that childish fit-throwing is highly underrated when you think about what you could have done. Like set your adversaries on fire. Or made them watch re-runs of Flava of Love. So really, throwing a tuna fish sandwich and wishing death on them is an acceptable alternative when you consider the real harm that could have been done.
Nina, you are my soul mate (maybe even cell mate this week). I threw a conniption fit this week and refused to do any paperwork Thursday or Friday. Now that I am thinking a little more clearly I have to get dressed and go in to work today to play catch up before tomorrow.
I am hoping I return to my "be the change" ways soon too.
I have slammed things down on things. I have broken a dish in the sink (exercising reserve; I was about to throw it against the wall or through the closed window). I have slammed the side of my fist into the wall a couple of times, and I have envisioned severely rotten consequences for bad guys here and there.
I think that without some kind of catharsis, good people would just eventually collapse and implode.
Nothing a little wood glue and a clamp won't fix.
My first bigger temper tantrum was kicking my car, leaving a nice sized dent. The second was throwing the TV clicker against the wall, making a hole, and having to call my brother to repair the drywall.He left me note that read, "You throw like a sissy."
You have no idea. I have lost count
of how many things I have broken :-).
The last was a chair that I was trying to fix and out of frustration
threw it across the room :-).
Nina, you are still my hero - you just capture everything so perfectly - like, "because I am so ever-loving OVER things sucking the ass crack of hell for no apparent reason" - you rock. I have to just say - I think your post about the pants might be my favorite yet.
Once I got so mad at my husband I threw the remote control in his direction being careful in my attempt to let it hit him. He stepped aside and the window took the hit instead. It was a $200 fit that also cost some of my pride. I mean, its not easy walking away in a mighty huff when glass just spewed all over your kids toys. Argh, Why did he move???
I hurt myself when I threw my biggest temper tantrum ever. I was standing on the porch having a drink after one of those soul-sucking phone calls with my mom, and found myself so angry that I smashed my glass (with my hand holding it) into one of the columns of the porch. Repeatedly. I had cuts all over my hand and was about to smash the glass again when my husband made me stop. He was very freaked out by the incident, obviously, but honestly, it didn't even hurt. Seemed totally normal at the time. I probably needed stitches in one or two places, but we just cleaned it up really well and I used some of that skin superglue stuff to close up the cuts -- I didn't want to try to explain these injuries at the E.R. Anger and depression are so closely related; sometimes the energy is held within, but other times, it has to go OUT.
One time, in a fit of anger and frustration, I kicked something. I forgot that 99.9% of the time when I am home, I am barefoot. I think I broke a toe, but I was too mortified to go to the dr, since they can't do anything about broken toes anyway. Oh, and I didn't even manage to damage the thing I kicked. I've forgotten what that was, but not the broken toe part.
oh... and the violent thoughts of maiming people? all the time. Daily, sometimes.
I love that you threw the sandwich at the wall. That's awesome. I throw childish fits every now and then. . .especially when its pms time. Yay for the pms.
Oh, man, sorry about the crash's lingering effects. I can't count how many shoes I've thrown at the bedroom floor when my downstairs neighbors get home and decide to awaken me by striking up a loud conversation at 1 a.m. Poor shoes don't deserve that treatment.
Also, one time when I was a kid I put my fist through a glass pane in the kitchen door after my older brother locked me and my sister out. They say depression is anger turned inward; I almost wish I had done more damage in my teenage years.
This is my confession.
Last night I had a patient that was faking a seizure. Seriously. Faking it. BADLY. Instead of ignoring it like I usually do I decided to "go through the motions". And with vigor. I cut off all of her very nice and expensive clothes and "missed" twice when I shoved a very large IV in her arm. (She stopped seizing long enough to swear.) I put oxygen on full blast and wedged it in her nostrils. She walked out of my ED with a headache (from the full blast oxygen) and wearing only a hospital gown. I couldn't help myself and said loudly, "Oh my god, It's a miracle!" I may have laughed. Loudly.
I still don't feel bad about it.
I tend to throw/break something almost everyday. If I don't, it just builds up til I really lose it. All of this is at work.
I'm sooo mature, I know ;-)
Why would someone fake a seizure? No, seriously, I don't understand?
Nina, sorry to say this, but those are not the types of tantrums I throw. I'm a venter, not a thrower. At the moment I am not pregnant, and the B has a hernia, needs surgery, and we might have to cancel our tropical vacation next week. So what am I doing? reading blogs and posting comments.
I brood, I do not throw. Once in high school I slapped someone, but that was it.
But your way sounds like more fun. Just stay away from the loaded weaponry, okay?
Sometimes, life requires a hissy-fit. And life is way to short for regrets, no?
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