Temper tantrums and manipulation

I have to admit that I’m intrigued by people who have anger problems. I simply do not understand how a sober person degenerates into a screaming, yelling or violent POS at what appear to be mild stimuli.

I’ve just finished watching the TV series Oz, and was astounded at the level of anger mismanagement and violence portrayed therein. If you aren’t familiar with it, OZ is about a fictional correctional facility where inmates are given more freedom as a psychological experiment aimed at rehabilitation. Only. What happens is that a great deal of the characters that we see get “taken out” by fellow inmates due to anger, based largely on retaliation. So in such a place if you piss someone off, you might get shanked in your sleep. How diplomatic.

Obviously that was fictional, but after watching all that violence and seeing characters who one has become emotionally invested in killed, there is something very disturbing about having someone in real life prodding their finger in your kidney or belly and saying “shank!” or “stab!”. I’m sorry, I’m not a 12 year old boy, so I don’t find that amusing, I mean, it’s practically a threat.

So why did I watch such a horrific series if I got upset? Well the characters were very complex. Many were extreme manipulators, a quality that also intrigues me because I cannot fathom it. The overall thread running through that there was still hope for these incarcerated “turds”. I’ll admit that the grit made it much harder to swallow, and that parts were nauseating, but having some long running characters touting taking responsibility, learning (self)forgiveness, moving on and giving another chance as the things that kept the unit afloat was enough to temper the barbaric violence.

I only wish that others could take those messages home. Like those who feel the need to repeatedly yell “fuck off!” and throw, punch or kick things. Even if those things are pillows and not something sharp or heavy.

To resort to physical violence is an immature response to an overwhelming sensation of anger. Most of us can find other outlets, but sometimes it seems like you can’t rid yourself of the feeling without breaking something, and I know I’ve been there. But violence and breaking things just causes the cracks to spread. The anger isn’t gone, it’s just waiting at the next crossroad.

Disconnect and self-destruct one bullet at a time”~ a perfect circle, the outsider


not so sweet dreams

Do you have bad dreams? nightmares?

well as a general rule, I do not.

Last night was an exception though. I woke at 5AM afte,r round one of disturbing dreams. In said dream SO decided to sell or swap his car, but rather than go through a dealer, he was selling privately – the phone conversations had sounded a bit odd, but we drove the car over to one prospective buyer + seller’s house only to find that it looked delapilated with three brad new cars on the driveway. SO tentatively knocked on the door and when there was no answer we retreated, hoping we could get the hell out of that creepy place – sadly the house was indeed occupied and we were waved and shouted at by a short, elderly japanese man. This all seemed a bit weird, so when the guy said his f=driving might not be so good because he was sick – I offered to leave them to it and was told by SO in no uncertain terms that I was NOT to get out of the car and he wishes he had brought his friend with him for a second opinion. The old man drove off ok – he was taking turns and roundabouts at a faster speed that I was comfortable with and then he took a turn down a road I didn’t know – heading towards the river. When we got to the end of the road, he slowed down and drove down the dirt track that became a wide towpath and as I could see the path ahead narrowing and an extremely rickety bridge totally unsuitable for vehicles as the only crossing, I jumped out of the car onto the towpath just as he swerve the car into the river. Obviously my panic levels were pretty high at this point, but then I saw SO managed to swim to the surface,  I stood still on the bank, but then I saw the old man took hold of SO and drag him under the water (purposefully)…just as I was preparing to jump into the river, I woke up.


eventually I drifted off to sleep but what awaited me wasn’t what I had in mind….I dreampt I was living in a shared house. The house was peculiar but the garden was great – huge and filled with flowers and a pond and all sorts of things.  So far so good. I was in the kitchen with the girls chatting and drinking tea when another housemate came in, wearing gloves, she was ranting and showing off about something or other, and then went to drink from a glass. Before she could raise it I jumped up and yelled not to drink from that glass because it was broken (there was broken glass in it and a hole) I gestured to the hole with my thumbs, but instead of being grateful, she trapped my thumbs in the hole and crushed the rest of the glass down onto them, staring into my eyes as the glass dug in and the blood started to pour out. All that I could say was ‘can someone cal me an ambulance please’ yet the other girls were in shock and not responding – just staring gormlessly at the blood dripping all over the floor. Eventually, one of them snapped out of it, helped me and drove me to A & E where I promptly passed out. The rest of the dream involved rage and plots for retribution ( get her kicked out of university, report her to police etc) but no-one would take me seriously and I was haunted on a daily basis by the presence of this girl who would, quite happily, have killed me in that kitchen.