Further Ramblings

It is now very autumny and properly October, which is most satisfying.  Life proceeds, leaving me trotting in its wake, calling with faint hope, "Wait, you dropped me!"  At the moment, though I am drenched in agenda ("things that MUST be done") I have no motivation to do...any of it.  I am instead enveloped in a horrible but vague dread and mournfulness.  Thus, I am blogging, hoping that doing something I meant to do but don't have to do will soften my mental block and ease me into productivity.

Also, procrastination.  But I am surrendering to the impulse.  I think it's the only thing I can do.

This feeling of abstraction from self is a fairly common one for me, and also one I am not supposed to encourage.  Overactive Vata, excessive Fiveishness, call it what thou wilt, according to what character assessment system thee pleaseth, fact is I'm currently hiding from my body.  The cure for this is usually: a) doing the work that you keep not wanting to do and b) to prevent recurrence of same, exercise.  I do not enjoy exercise, as a rule, though I am very fond of walks.  However, there is one thing that gets me excited about my physicality: stabbing people.

See, I have a well-subverted but also dangerously well-developed violent streak.  Others may choose to deliver vengeance through snide comments or revocation of privilege, but if a situation gets dire enough that I feel redress may be necessary, in my heart of hearts I want to stab.  I want physical and permanent marks of the dissatisfaction that has finally grown severe enough to develop into rage.  There is very little betwixt and between for me.  Either I am slightly miffed, but not miffed enough to mention it, or I want to kill you. 

This proves problematic, since (for God only knows what weak Enlightened reason) society has seen fit to outlaw duelling as a method of conflict resolution.  Thus I am forced to sublimate and re-sublimate my (very) occasional murderous impulses, creating a cycle of anger that gets self-directed, spawning more hurt which spawns more anger, etc., etc.  My solution: reintroduce the duel, with the stipulation that it be nonfatal.

I mean, fighting for sport is already widespread.  Boxing, "wrestling," various Eastern imports, paintball, fencing -- all of these are ritualized combat, and their appeal is that of competition in its rawest form -- that is, the primal I AM BETTER THAN YOU because I can use my body and mind to physically wreck your s*** and keep you from doing the same to me.  We are all the discontents of civilization -- we all feel the need to defend our self-interests, and are prevented from doing so because of "morals" and "humanity" and other such trivial things.  Now, I am generally a fan of civilization and know that if it were removed I would be probably number 213 worldwide to die as a result.  However, this does not prevent me -- and apparently others -- from feeling a little frustrated sometimes, and so long as the lethal element is removed, the controlled and regulated expression of violence is, I think, quite healthy.

So why not go a step further?  If, after a terrible day at the office, it's wonderfully freeing to work out your frustrations upon the bodies of those towards whom you are favorably disposed, how much more satisfying to call out Bob from Accounting when he finishes off the office coffee without making more for the TWENTY-NINTH TIME?  How much more healing to externalize the conflict, to formally begin and end it?  How much more soothing, if you could look upon the bruises you inflicted and feel not a sneaking guilty pride but a calm satisfaction at an injury well and honestly redressed?  And how much more effective in the long term, if you could sufficiently thrash Bob, not with forced pseudocourteous words but with your WEAPON, so that he bore the memory of your "conversation" in his very neurons, and every time he walked by your cubicle with his empty mug you could smile ever so pleasantly and remind him of the hurting you will lay upon him if he continues to disregard your reasonable requests?

I think this is a far more humane method of conflict resolution.  Some will protest that the strongest will naturally get their way all the time; for one thing, this is already the case, and for another, even a pathetic shrimp such as myself, if sufficiently motivated and trained, can become a force to be reckoned with when given a sword: violence is the equalizer, while civilization gives the advantage not to the physically strong but to the morally unscrupulous.  Finally, would it not increase our fear of violating the rights of another person, our respect for the mystery of their inviolability?

Bah.  I grow excessively misty-eyed over the pleasures of jabbing metal into other people.  Most likely this represents a character flaw on my part, but screw it, we all have our flaws, and it is good to recognize them.  Also, it is good to stab.  Powerfully, unbelievably good.

On this note we segue into the Adorable Dog Breed That Wants To Kill You feature: the Borzoi.  Also known as the Russian Wolfhound, they're delicate, beautiful, a little dopey-looking with their long curvy noses, and frankly almost effete.  Their character is that of an aged spinster aunt: passive-aggressive, nondemonstrative, dignified, quietly loyal.  Which is why I take great pleasure in showing you the two sides of their personality they don't want you to know about:
PUPPIES!!!  Oh gracious, they're so cute.  They just want to chase and chase....

...and chase.  Yeah, Russians use these to kill WOLVES.  Which means most likely they can kill you.   With more beauty, grace, style, and ruthless efficiency than you will ever be able to muster.  Certainly with more than I can muster in the execution of such basic tasks as completing my homework.

Needless to say I badly want one.

With this I leave you, dear readers (all three of you).  Heartsstarshorseshoes.