On the verge of angry

I spent the majority of my morning working with my past blogs and the organization of them via this very cute little spreadsheet that I had a good time developing - if 'developing' is a small enough word for what I did.

There were words of winter and the crunch of frozen rain and apples and walking alone and I could smell the contentment coming off of everything and I smiled for joy. Ethel slept between my feet under the desk for an hour or more as my mind drifted into and out of conversations I haven't had out loud, but which answered questions I hadn't even known I was asking myself. My solitude was complete and creative and good.

And then I came to a place where the internet was opened and I read my emails and took one look at my Reader and am now completely irritated and disgusted with humanity and how easily we forget that on the other end of all these tubes and wires and codes are human beings. Human beings who have as much right to be offensive and awful as they do to be thoughtful and considerate. Human beings who are supposed to be able to make decisions for themselves that do not rely on validation from others for their overgrown egos and the sense that there is Power with admiration because leadership is not about Power unless you want it to end in some disgusting loss of humanity - physical or spiritual. Leadership is about service, it is about being the best person to organize or motivate a group of people in service of a larger goal, that goal being the maintenance and perpetuation of said group.

I am disgusted at the need to be a dick for the sake of being a dick, or being wounded for the sake of making a Big Pronouncement that serves nothing but the purpose of someone's ego.

Egos are good, they allow us to understand our strengths and our possibilities and to sense when we have not done well. Life is not best lived when it is lived in service of our egos for they are flighty moody things subject to the will of none and the whim of all when they are not bounded.

Today I would like nothing more than to say that I am done. That I have enough friends and they are wonderful and my life is fulfilling enough and I am done with the rest of the world because they are acting like petulant children with no perspective, no respect and no sense of the consequences of their actions.

However. There is more inspiration, motivation, creativity and joy to be found within the world than without it.

It is not a finite answer. This will happen again. And again I will be angry, though perhaps not so likely to think of turning my back.

My father has given me ears to hear my voice. The anger abates and I am left with only focus and a desire for laughter and song and my project. The cats will purr when I come home and I will find joy in their warmth. My friends will laugh at my silliness and I will find comfort in that.

Everyone else can choke on their own choices, I have better things to do.