"Aristotle could never understand three things - bees, tide and women" Proverb
I'd like to open with a swear word but Spellcheck won't co-operate and keeps changing it to duck which really doesn't vent the way I'd like... so to hell with that. But this transitory period is truly getting on my nerves. I swing from hope to anger to despondency with such speed it truly is exhausting.
The philosopher Aristotle thought that anger was good for a person. In the "Nicomachean Ethics," he wrote, "The man who is angry at the right things and with the right people, and further, as he ought, when he ought, and as long as he ought, is praised."
Then Aristotle would just love me, as of my pendulum of three moods.... I favour anger. If only I could maintain it then I may just get through this.
Give me anger any day... when something snaps inside of me and I let it loose with lethal velocity. It escapes in a great breathless torrent stronger and faster then any of those tornados I used to see in the South Western states of the USA.
I don't think Aristotle gave much thought as to just how angry a woman can get when he pronounced while the bodily effects of anger are meant to tell men that something's wrong, women are more easily moved to despondency.
Well for me I don't quite fit the mould. ( no shock there then) As a woman the very idea of self indulgent moods like despondency rankle me in a way that anger doesn't. There is no empowerment for women in that.
At least anger is liberating, Anger takes you beyond stupid English embarrassment and beyond shock or sobs wrenched from your insides. Anger takes away the impotency of the situation, draws together all the broken pieces and the fury of having to right wrongs that were never yours in anything more than the consequences. Anger fill the empty hollows that tears left in their wake, anger assuages the knowledge of the bleak future ahead.
I wish I could stay angry longer. At least when I am angry I get shit done.
When I oscillate towards despondency I become my own enemy - I become the sort of person I used to hate whinging and whining about first world problems when really a good slap would benefit them more than a listening ear. A trouble shared is a boring monologue. So, you STILL got that parking ticket even though you tried to negotiate the meter maid into not doing her job? Awww, you had to wait twenty minutes to get the bill when you went for lunch? Gosh, you mean everything was reduced in the pre-xmas sale except the very shoes you want to wear to the party? Excuse me while I genuinely do not give a Duck (apparently). Okay I can upscale the problems to a lost job, house and a dead boyfriend - but still does anyone REALLY want to listen to all that? I know I wouldn't.
But every now and again the pendulum swings to hope - unfortunately it is usually as debilitating as a swing to despondency. I'm not a big fan of hope, I'll tell you for why... hope tends to hang out with unsubstantiated probability way too often to be of much good to me. It's a fantasy I cannot afford to indulge as hope is too often pinned outcomes that any statistician would have a good few hours of chortling about. A £1 UK lottery ticket has a one in 14 million chance of being the winner. There is just a 5% chance of snow on Christmas Day here in Southern England. There is only a 1 in 16billion chance that the head of your department isn't in league with the devil himself after selling her soul for a stale doughnut. To hang my tomorrow's on hope does not seem to move me forward when reality returns. Excuse me while I do not believe in better.
So no... I'm not gonna dump how I feel about it on someone who has the more pressing problem of having to pay full price for Manalo's! And No I'm not gonna hope for better.
Sorry Aristotle - this woman is trying to channel DUCKING ANGRY right now, [why thank you spellcheck]
And tell me I don't have the right....
I dare you.
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