Uh-oh, the evidence in this blog seem to point to one particularly spiky fact: I am in need of some serious anger management. If I am not out to trip some Ogres for kicks, or assembling a small-scale water balloon factory for the benefit of the Wonderfellers (they habitually wear white, so …) , I am brewing the poison that should theoretically eliminate all sources of anger, but will inevitably just evaporate the strange arrangement of elementals that is *me*. This will have to change. Let’s consider some therapy alternatives.
1. Ah! The dreamy holiday to a far-away beach resort with ample supply of hammocks, wifis, and Coronas. Nothing to think about for a fortnight. Sounds like a great plan, before a quick look at the bank account and further encouragement from the tax officials efficiently tear one too many holes into the hammock. I once fell through one, you know. It was a trap set by an small Ogre. It was left outside for an entire winter. IN F*****G FINLAND. And there I was, traipsing towards it with a Pratchett book and most likely a featherlight spritzer. Nobody said anything, but apparently falling on one’s traipsy butt through a hammock is considered entertainment in some circles. Well, okay, admittedly it WAS pretty funny because it involved the word “butt”.
Anyway, if you are the leprechaun at the end of the rainbow and don’t get out much due to the huge pot of gold and all. I can babysit it for you. Ping me anytime. I also hear you make shoes: I LOVE SHOES.
2. Yoga, TaiChi or a similar spiritual exercise designed to expel the bad and inhale the good. Just you and your breathing in a quiet peaceful place, much like an alternate reality, but without reality. Sounds fantastic, yes? The trouble with this plan is OTHER PEOPLE. I did Yoga, but there was an old geezer who looked like he had been salted and dried up for the occasion. And he fell asleep, and his snoring sounded positively Vogonian and echoed in a quite impressive way in the school gym. I also did Tai Chi and it hurt like a sonofabitch. You wouldn’t think so, would you. Apparently I was stretching my nerve tracts instead of my muscles and THIS does not fare well with ANGER management.
3. Running out of ideas here, but … perhaps a professional could help. A professional HAIRDRESSER that is. I know this because my shampoo says: “There’s more to life than hair, but it’s a good place to start”. I SWEAR, life seems a helluvalot more PINK with wavy, swishy hair! Also a PROFESSIONAL masseuse looks like a solid plan. I wish I was in Thailand, though. Those foot massage experts, MY GOD, can they save a day and a half! I have an excessively ugly electrically operated neck massage pillow that looks like a gargantuan (dead) snail. I don’t even care to comment on the “anger management factor”, but I’ll tell you this. If you turn the dial on the dead snail to “9”, the experience is a bit like sitting inside the bass drum of Dave Lombardo. On the other hand, the HEAD massager that looks like an antenna from Juhan af Grann’s website can make anyone reach cloud #9 in 2.5 seconds. The down side is that the effect doesn’t last any longer than the flavor on HubbaBubba.
4. Uh-oh. Forgot to ask my best friend and bible: Pinterest. Let’s see what the Quotes section has to offer in case one turns into a roiling furnace of dislike. Here we go, a little something from J.R. Tolkien (compliments @radiatelikesunshine on Instagram):
Instand feel-gooder poem. Pinterest *never* fails. There was also a cute picture of a squirrel. I am not going to post it here because I just don’t roll like that.
Reviewing my options … wait for it … it seems that the antenna is back on my head and the anger shall face management for a full 5 minutes! After that, it is back to trying to hide the horns with red hair. After publishing this, I shall free dive into Pinterest and find the deeper meaning of liff (love you, Douglas).
P.S. Here’s a random pick from the Meaning of Liff, which is a book by Mr Adams and lists words you would have needed SO SO many times in the course of your life:
Clunes (pl. n.): People who just won’t go.
Craboon (vb.): To shout boisterously from a cliff.
Clenchwarton (n.): (Archaic) One who assists an exorcist by squeezing whichever part of the possessed the exorcist deems useful.