admission

A few entries back there is a ramble on my realization that I needed to use anger as a tool in my writing. Channeling that emotion is going to be very helpful, I think, because when it hits I typically need to act on it. Trying  to rationalize my way through it never does the trick, you see: the disturbance just increases in its shaking until I have to act on it in some way. When I do that, I typically take it right back to the perceived source. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn't (even when it does work, it doesn't work well, creating future problems down the road even while solving those in temporal proximity). Putting it into the words I'm writing will most likely provide the outlet I need to manage those feelings; I've experimented with it in the past and it worked pretty well. 

When I am angry its incredibly empowering. Its like holding a lightening bolt that has to be thrown before it vibrates me to pieces. And, for better or worse, anywhere I end up chunking the furious thing always creates a nice, big reaction, just like any good catalyst ought to wrought.  Its satisfying, often, but also sloppy, with damage to things I would prefer remain intact. 

So, again, the intention is to harness that power, putting that energy into proper channels, routing it into circuits so it will push the process along in more beneficial ways. Then, I think, great success will ensue.

Here's the problem: I'm really not that angry all the time. When I am, good god I am; when I'm not, I'm lots of other things. I suspect that most people who know me would be surprised that I place such emphasis on anger as a dominant emotion in me, as I usually come off as pretty jovial. A jovial attribution is fair, because by and large I'm in a pretty fine mood most of the time. What I mean when I describe anger as being a dominate emotion in me is, when its been poked and prodded enough to raise its head and gnash its teeth, it immediately comes to the forefront of my conscious experience with no small amount of force. But most of the time (thank goodness), its other emotions being triggered by my environment. 

Sadly, fear has been a big one lately, along with frustration and uncertainty. These are springing from my employment situation...even with a bunch of opportunities on the line and savings to see me through, I'm really uncomfortable not having a work schedule to anchor my days. The hope is to take advantage of this transitional period and write a whole bunch, but how do I do that without the burning bright anger to fuel my fingers? Fear and uncertainty are oily and damp feelings, and frustration is only a little fire with little hope of blazing when surrounded by them. I think of writing, and I become afraid of failing at it. I become frustrated with what I've done. I debate endlessly whether or not its worth the effort. 

Here is the admission for which this particular entry is titled: I was correct in recognizing that anger is an emotion that can and will have to be used, but that recognition was way too limited. It was a natural deduction in that anger demands an outlet, and creative endeavors are a fine, obvious safe place to let anger stomp around until it tires out enough to be turned into something more productive (determination, say). What I didn't recognize was that, if I'm going to make this work, I have to figure out how to use every other emotion at my disposal, even those that don't obviously lend themselves to inspiration.