““Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.””
I have as previously mentioned, a very bad temper. Not a sulky one; a fiery, burning hot coal, bring down the wrath of the angels number which is not attractive and tends to present itself in one of two ways. Either it is a short sharp blast of icy low voiced rational school mistress Kate, which tends to be saved exclusively for phone companies and bad restaurant service; or in many people's eyes, the far worse alternative.
I get horribly sarcastic.
They say that sarcasm is the wit of fools, and I am inclined to agree - because it is usually me who ends up feeling foolish after the fact.
And the reason is this.
If I'm speaking with forked tongue, quite often I'm not truly angry - or not in the sense that one may expect. What I really am...
Well, what I really am is hurting. I've been injured by someone close to me's thoughts or actions. And we all know that the best form of defence is attack, so rather than grab a box of tissues and have a good snotty cry - or for that matter say to the person involved "I'm upset", Kate the Bruce grabs her own personal spider and throttles it with cutting words and is off out of the cave before you can say Scots Wha' Hae.
Leaving confusion and destruction in her kilted and claymored wake.
I know I'm not alone in reacting this way. I'm useless at crying, so instead I get lippy. There are many of us out there. In fact, there should be a support group; Sarcastaholics Anonymous. Except we probably couldn't ever meet as a group because we would just take the mickey out of each other, which would sort of defeat the purpose. So what is the solution?
I think it's quite easy.
People need to be really nice to me.
All. The. Time.
Anger, sadness and sarcasm all magically managed. My need to paint face with woad and wear Boudicca type breast plate? Fading, fading... gone. The prickle of traitorous tears (just because I'm bad at crying doesn't mean I don't) subsiding back into the ducts of doom where they belong.
This could well work.
Maybe if that happened, I would be so calm and peaceful I would be able to visit North Korea as a peace envoy to Kim Jong Nutbags? Admittedly I'm no Dennis Rodman...
So I may actually achieve something sensible.
Anger is a wasted emotion. Trust me on this one. So if you are getting angry because you are hurting, or sad, or just because you're a bad tempered redhead - ask yourself why.
And if the whole Utopian ideal of people being nice to you is pie in the sky (which let's face it, it is - unless you live with the lemurs in a remote and human-free part of the Madagascan forests) - then rethink the people you are allowing in to your life, and therefore having the ability to upset you; or in the case of Kim J U and Dennis, the aliens.
Make your life a Martian free zone. That's quite a logical thought, my dear Captain.
Live long and prosper. Without getting pissed off.
Too often.
