Some days are an exercise in lingering on the balanced side of frustration and avoiding the dangerous tip towards anger.
These are the days when you really would rather not interact with anyone.
You don’t know why you’re angry.
You can’t seem to pinpoint a reason.
In the morning you lift and drop your fist several times beside your face and into the pillow before you wrack you head for an argument, a misdeed, or an affront that never happened.
Then you rise and curse at the way your hip lags behind the rest of the unfurling of your body. The way your joints pop and sigh like someone releasing their grip on a crinkled water bottle, the same as any other day – only you are fucking angry today, and so the joints seem excessively loud, almost as though they are echoing the grumbling in your head.
Anyone have those types of days?
During these types of days, I find it particularly convenient to own a hatchet. Most people I know would express concern over the use of a hatchet while in the state of a barely controlled rage at some unknown.
I’m a pacifist, but let me tell you, swinging a hatchet in a slightly less than methodical fashion at an especially stubborn knot is a type of therapy that I don’t think money can buy. In fact, it’s probably the only reason that I am capable of writing this evening.
My subconscious is mad at something and it hasn’t yet seen fit to let me know what it is – I’ll be sure to note if it does come to light what the cause of all this pent up rage is. Anticipation is only good in doses, otherwise it is basically prolonged stress, which, as it turns out is bad for the heart, so I hope the cause comes to light soon so I’m not kept in a constant state of guessing for the duration (Which I hope is only for the day!)
The fury of my hatchet was directed at a spatula that I’ve been trying to form out of a branch. Unfortunately, I’ve had the rotten luck of having two large knots appear in the centre of the log. Yes, I know, they didn’t just appear. They happened to have been there all along, but I’m a bit of an optimist and had hoped that I would have enough wood around the knot to still chisel out a handle. Such is not the case, which means all my hatcheting served only to calm me down a bit and nothing else.
So, with the loss of any productive spatula to show you all, this post doesn’t give much of any helpful, interesting, or funny information, but has served much the same purpose as that piece of wood against that hatchet – my fingers against the keyboard bleeding out frustration and inexplicable loneliness, and after holiday woes that I’m sure most people get after finishing up a superb holiday season.
And, the holiday season was superb. It was spent in Edmonton with my girlfriend’s aunt’s family. I’ve never spent Christmas away from my immediate family, which made this Christmas a bit peculiar feeling at first, but it was such a fun, laid back, full of laughter experience that I felt right at home amongst all these new people. I actually didn’t want to leave!
This year was the year of ornaments it seems as I received quite a lot in the form of gifts. They were all so creative, from gingerbread men made by my niece decorated with stripes that apparently depicted her dogs, to awesome outlines of the provinces that Soph and I lived in and are living in now. What a creative reminder of where we come from and how far we’ve gone! I will admit though, my geography must be a bit fuzzy because at first I thought Ontario was a whale (I had also just watched Blackfish though, so I had whale on the mind.)
Naturally, with so many ornaments, we were going to need a place to hang them. Neither of us really wanted to go to the hassle of procuring a tree, or offering it room in our small abode, or cleaning up after it when it started to die, or paying for something that we wouldn’t be around much to enjoy any ways. Call us Scrooges if you must – but we found other ways to spread some holiday cheer.
And, we found another idea for a festive ornament holder! We drilled a hole in a wine bottle (Slowly. Carefully.) and threaded lights through it. It makes for a nice table lamp in the off season, but doubles well as a faux Christmas tree as well!
Little Ashy was able to join me for the holidays via a photo sent by his grandma to me. Naturally, he received an honoured place by the “tree.”
Happy holidays, friends!