My first rule of emailing, blogging, Facebooking or tweeting is to never write anything when you’re angry/sad/drunk/depressed.
I never drink (much), but I do get a bit sad. And, frankly, after years of
being tortured slowly suffering dystonia, I’ve had to resort to happy pills. Yes, it’s true.
I resisted this until only a couple of months ago. I think. I would just burst into tears and I couldn’t move, because I was paralyzed with thoughts and feelings.
I knew that I was luckier than many people. I knew some people couldn’t walk at all. I’d seen them in the hospital where I receive treatment for dystonia. I saw people with afflictions so horrible, it would send shivers down your spine.
So … I not only felt bad because I was being tortured slowly, but I felt bad about feeling bad. This was like a double #epicfail.
So … when you’re so
gimpy overwhelmed, it takes an imaginary drill sergeant to get you out of bed in the morning, it’s bound to take a toll on you after a time.
As for angry … I’ve already admitted I’m angry, but I’ve also realized I need to let the anger go. Easier said than done, huh?
So, frankly, when I watched this video from 60 Minutes, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
What I saw were a bunch of perfectly capable people who could’ve done anything they wanted. They weren’t trapped by unemployment. They were trapped by the illusion created in their own minds. They had completely defined themselves by their previous careers. They couldn’t imagine a life outside their comfortable, well-defined little boxes.
And I damn near died laughing when the guy said at the end that he was helping them achieve the American way! Seriously, dude. ROFL!!!!
USA! USA! USA! LOL! LOL! LOL!
Okay … let me pause a moment. Because I need to collect my thoughts.
There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll say it. I saw something on Twitter that
filled me with rage ticked me off.
An author who will remain nameless tweeted this (or words to this effect): I just got paid a sh*tload of money by the big online retailer/publisher. I already spent it. But, it sure beats working for a living, don’t it?
Bear in mind, the author
who isn’t a gimp is part of some collective blog, where I put up a guest post about how hard it is to be a writer.
And wouldn’t you know, some other nameless author who’s in the collective RTed it?
And we’re all — ahem — supposed to be supporting each other. Thanks, guys! I needed that.
Can you blame me for wanting to go a bit Mr. Bullock on someone?
Not that I’d ever really do that, of course.
Because giving in to rage at what’s probably an innocent tweet would be yet another #epicfail.
And I’m just a hardboiled fiction writer, who’s
been tortured had dystonia for 7 years.
I’m not perfect, but I keep on going no matter what. #furiouslyhappy
So … I’m posting this song in belated celebration of Saint David’s Day, according to Nik Nak’s Old Peculiar. Here’s the Welsh national anthem, which is much nicer and easier to sing than ours.
Which reminds me … I saw this about The Sex Pistols album, Never Mind the Bollocks.
So bollocks to all that, right?
And here’s to real friends.
UPDATE: I forgot to mention this. Isn’t it awesome?
UPDATE 2: I’m sorry to spam you with updates, but this is important. Please consider giving to the Annti Evict-O-Thon. Read this post for details.
The fine folks at World O’ Crap, including Moondoggie, would really appreciate it.
I’m blaming this omission on the happy pills. So, kids, remember … just say no to drugs, okay?