Anatomy of Anger

The Webster's Dictionary defines anger as 'a strong feeling of displeasure and belligerence aroused by a   wrong; wrath; ire.' What that basically means is that someone or something pisses you off and you blow your top (in varying degrees). But Webster's got it wrong! Anger, if you really think about it, is not really a feeling, a feeling of strong displeasure yes, but it is not the actual feeling. Anger is ultimately a reaction to a strong feeling, almost always, of displeasure. What sets people apart is their perception of that negative feeling, and perhaps the degree with which they display their reaction.


The manifestation of anger is the final point of no return, where the perceived displeasure is so overwhelming that the person under the influence (of anger) expresses those emotions externally, be it to a person or a situation, and it's never a pretty sight. Anger in any form, expressed or bottled up, is never contained to only the intended victim, it's aggressive spread is far reaching. 


So, what's that got to do with me? I'm the coolest person you'll ever meet (exponentially exaggeratedly speaking). But what I am is a very angry person, bottled up in a body that can't do anything about it, well, except scream at people and things that rub me the wrong way. Lately, however, I've noticed that the rubbing doesn't even have to be the wrong way! It doesn't take me too long to be emotionally embroiled into a situation that invariably results in the Mount Vesuvius type explosion. The situation on the other hand doesn't have to be proportional to the explosive display. No, it could be as trivial as I can't find my shoe, and WHAM!! the neighbors are treated to decibel levels even the construction company next door can't match.


I've always been a temper challenged person, always voicing my verbose opinions with a passionate fervor that few could match. Tears of conviction streaming down my cheeks, my stance poised to delivery precise lethal damage to whom so ever dare challenge, and my voice pitched to break glass if the need ever arose. That was teenage. Now, the tears have dried up, the stance is deadlier and sometimes used, and the voice hoarse from broken glass, but the anger is still there, growing, as if fed by an invisible force I can't seem to run away from or fight. 


The worse part is, half the time I don't know why I'm so angry! I start out with very innocent intentions, entering every situation or conversation with a clean slate. Keeping my mind open for something new that may come my way, to absorb, to learn. Most benign situations pass off without incidence, but the ones that involve people who bring out the (what was it that Webster's said?) strong feeling of displeasure, more often than not feel the intensity of the wrath. Many a times the people to face the onslaught of emotional upheaval are either innocent (mostly due to their age(s)), or weren't even involved. To make matters worse, I know I'm wrong in subjecting said person(s) to my disturbed mind, and end up feeling angrier, making a possibly controllable situation totally lost. It's this ability to screw up incessantly, the feeling of some deep rooted insecurity, inadequacy, low self-esteem, or just plain stupidity that drives me over the edge. It would be absolutely legit if this was because of someone else, but all these feeling dwell inside me, making it a bitter pill to swallow.




My math has been less than passable since I can remember, but if I were to calculate the ratio of situations (volatile or non-volatile) to outbursts (warranted or not), it would be 2:1.5. That's a 75% strike rate (again according to my math), which, as per many, well known neurologists, cardiologists, psychoanalysts, is already 4 1/2 feet into my grave. 
According to (here again I must confess limited knowledge) many beauty magazines frowning and anger (which leads to frowning) adds years to the face by creating unseemly lines on the face, making one look 45, as opposed to the desired 26 (real age unknown). 
If I were to ask my family and friends what they thought of my temper tantrums, they'd probably vote to put me on some strong medications. But to myself, I feel scary, not in the Freddy Cougar way, but more in the Chucky way, where i'm supposed to be a positive influence on those around me, am supposed to be fun, nice, bestower of love; but turn out to be a demon who has no clue why the hell she's being mean, horrible and angry (although in a cute body). I feel ugly, knowing full well that every time I yell, or get even slightly angry, my face contorts to resemble a shriveled prune. But worst of all I see, feel the hurt in the people I get angry with, the sometimes irreversible damage I cause, and hate myself for it.


I don't want to be angry all the time! That's not who I am, that's not who I'm meant to be. I wish I could say I've tried and exhausted all remedial methods, but I'd be lying. I thought of yoga, but the slow pace ticks me off even more. Karate helps a bit, but only to put a violent edge to the anger. I think I'm looking for something. What? I'm not sure, but not getting it, or achieving it leaves me in an uncontrollable flux. I do know this, I'd better reign in my barking dog, before I put myself down an ugly, aged, miscalculated fool!

Who am I?

Its that time of the year, again! As I 'grow' another year older in age, emotion, and wisdom (hopefully), I've found myself reflecting on my existence. I've been often told to carry out this exercise in the past, but introspection has eluded my attention (as limited as it is), probably for the simple reason: why would I want to dwell on all my faults, idiosyncrasies, weaknesses, fears, or for that matter even my strengths; when they are on blatant display for all who know me? But for the last year or more I've noticed myself change from the kind of person i used to be...hoping for better results, but probably not even coming close. So, the question...Who am I?


I am a lot of things to a lot of people. I am like any other woman, a daughter, wife, daughter in law, mother, sister, a counselor, a listener, a talker, a fighter, and yes a cry baby (when the occasion calls for it). But sometime along that path I think I've lost sight of who I am to myself. I am still the confident woman I started out as, but that has translated into a growing fear that I'm incapable of doing things I used to be able to and things that are new to me.  Being able to learn a new task or skill used to be effortless, but as the age has crept on I find I'm stuck in sometimes mundane tasks, without the urge of learning newer skills. My learning curve over the years has taken a nose dive, of which I'm not proud, and plan to rectify.


Efficiency was my middle name, until I changed my address, then it just became 'lump'. I've often been complained about...(nothing new to the complainers) that I used to be able to do everything and still had time for fun. Now, fun is getting into bed at 10.30pm and passing out. In retrospect, I agree with most of my critics, I no longer have the same panache, the boldness and possibly, exuberance as I did at 18, but way back then, I never had the kind of understanding, maturity and determination I do today. So i think I'm kinda evened out over the years.


But the biggest personality trait I seem to have an issue with is my attitude, which, from what I've been told, hasn't changed at all. After all the psychoanalysis and free therapy sessions I've had over the years, the consensus has been more or less the same...I have colossal ego problems that project my attitude as a snob, don't care what people think, superiority complex that makes it near impossible for me to deal with people who I deem not at par with me (which would be nearly everyone). But the fact are actually different. I'm not a snob. I have an innate fear of people. Human beings are the only unpredictable creatures on this planet, who for no apparent reason could turn against the ones they love. I fear that I would be the hurter as much as the hurtee if I let my overtly enthusiastic personality take rampage. As for the don't give a shit what people think, is, I believe, an extension of the fear of people. Use of negative psychology as a defense mechanism: if I don't care what they (general public) think; they wont be able to affect my life negatively. 


As for the superiority complex thing, I gotta agree! I'm good at the things I do (however limited), and not really good at taking advice from anyone, unless they have an established track record of doing the same thing better than me (even then I'm usually skeptical). I don't easily relinquish my authority to anyone without having confidence that whatever damage may occur can be handled with ease. I admit this has lately been my greatest stress factor, which I have to learn to handle better. The only visible solution is to give up my crown and let someone else be a part of the situations I face on a day to day basis. 


I have finally come to terms with the fact that I am as vulnerable as the next person. The facade of being superwoman is just that, an act. I am confused as to which direction I'm heading, if I'm moving at all....a possible extension of my driving skills. But most of all, as with every human, I find I crave acknowledgement, however small, in the things I do from the people who matter.


 I am still the bold, daring, caring, mostly eccentric person from eons ago, with a dash of forthrightness, temperamental rudeness, tougher than steel stance and a tongue that could pierce armor. But over the years I have managed to figure out that i am what I am, and who I am is a person loved.

Hookies & Salsa

All of us have fond memories from our pasts, no matter how uninteresting we thought they were back then. But not many memories are made without other people being a part of them, at least not for me. When I reminisce about my pre-college, or college days, a flood of faces follows, each one reminding me of a crazy incidence or conversation that took place in a certain time and space in the past. Those memories came gushing back last weekend as I made a long awaited, much anticipated trip to Bangalore, after 14 years, to catch up with a select few memory makers of my life past.

The last 14 years have been a whirlwind for me, moving from one place to the next, meeting new people, doing newer and more exciting things. Through this all I've always wondered how my friends, who shared some of the most precious moments in my life, were doing? A part of me also wanted to know if life had treated them as kindly as it had treated me so far, how much had these women (i was in an all girls college) changed from what I remember? Would we be the same as we used to be together? I think when we picture reunions, a little part in everyone wants to know if the others in the group are still the same physically as they used to be ( the vanity demon strikes!!)

I met a number of friends from where I used to live and from college. My weekend was doused in alcohol, and filled with infectious laughter, unrestricted swearing, not always fond recollections of things done in the past (some that would never be done again), pouring over pictures that reminded us all of a carefree time we made full use of (some more than others), and some much needed tears for the things done or left unsaid back then. But the key fact i realized from the weekend was that the last 14 years had changed us all. Yes, some of us have gotten fatter! (I can say that without the fear of prosecution.) But the overall change I saw was awesome. Here were some of my closest girl friends, who had emerged from the cocooned life we all lived in our teenage years, to be beautiful, strong, resilient women. I met women who were no longer naive in their view of life, who had experienced the real joys and pangs of what life had to offer us, who had now grown into forces in their own right.

The two days left me dehydrated, and high, but most of all proud that I had known these people and called them my friends. It's rare to find people who think the way you do and even if they don't, give you the unconditional support to do your own thing and be your own person. The funny part was I felt exactly the same after all these years with these ladies, and knew it would be the same for a long time to come. I just hope the next time we all meet is before we hit menopause. I would not want to be a fly on the wall during a meeting of hormonally challenged middled aged women!

So with a happy, hopeful heart I say to my old friends; I loved meeting you all after such a long time, and promise we'll make the next time even better and just a bit longer.

Letter to my mother

Dear Ma,

It's been years since I wrote you a letter....probably as many as my age. So, I thought I'd pen a few words about you, for you, and to you. The fact that you're my mother, sister and best friend isn't the topic of discussion in this letter. Neither are the facts that I always felt as loved and protected with the mere thought of you (when you weren't around), or that I love you dearly and have never known a more beautiful woman, a part of this letter. If you don't know this by now then you're crazy, and we can't have two crazy people in the same family (not talking about you dad).

No, this letter is going to tell you all the things I hate about you. The things that make be mad as hell and cringe with fright.

I hate your hips. Oh, on you they look fine (could lose a little off the edges though). It's the fact that I've inherited them and it takes me forever to keep them in even the slightest of decent shape, that I can't stand. Your eyesight! Can't stand the fact you can't see even an inch in front of your face without your glasses, but can see into the depths of my soul, without my being anywhere near you. I detest your intuition. You would always know when I needed you, though I tried to hide the fact, even from across the world. Your sense of smell is demonic! Every time I'd had a smoke you'd know, even before I entered the house.

Your dirty mind is one for a museum. Honestly, the things you've taught me could get even the darkest man red in the face with embarrassment. I think we can safely blame your mother for that one. You're crazy methods of relaxation make me want to crawl into the nearest hole, not because they work, but because they're too damned crazy not to. I hate your diplomatic ability, which has turned some of my worst moments bearable. I detest the fact you can teach anyone and anything (the cat) to do what you bid. I still remember scaring the daylights out of your tuition student, but you made him an honor student in his school. Your talent for all things artistic really irks me to no end, since I'm challenged in that arena.

I particularly can't stand your patience. It drives me nuts. You'd never lose sight of your goal, even when you were screaming and shouting at us, and always persisted, relentlessly, to achieve them (especially the goal to get me to behave). I abhor your tolerance, not only because you've accepted a whole load of crap thrown at you in your life with a smile, but because you always taught me to be the same. 

Your strength and absolute level headedness makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry. I remember when my brother was burned, you swallowed your scream, and with a surgeon's precision started first aid, which later got you compliments from the entire burn unit staff for your quick thinking, while I ran around screaming my head off. I hate your steadfastness on things you know are right, and your inability to divert from the truth, no matter how hard it was to accept, especially for me. I especially hate it that you're always right, about everything, but have the decency not to rub it in my face with 'I told you so!'

I vehemently hate the fact that you always pushed me to be better than I was, especially because I was a girl. You let me make my mistakes and gave me space to understand them and learn from them, always in the background if I needed you. I don't even remotely like the fact that you've made me so independent that I could run a country on my own. I hated your constant nagging about my health, and the fact that if I didn't look after myself, no one else would.

But you know what the worst thing about you is?

I can never be you! That's a loss I mourn without even having. You are the epitome of perfection in my eyes, except the hips. I can only hope, as my children grow older, that they hate even a fraction of the things I hate about you. I am what I am because of you, but I hate it that you left me imperfect!

Love always

Your daughter.

Doers Don't Die!

It's not very often that I complain....I heard the collective snort! But today seems to be shaping up to be one big bitch fest. Before I open the proceedings, I would like to take a moment to blame my parents for making me courteous, giving, not too selfish, and a sucker for people who need my help! With that said...let the brain bashing begin.

SITUATION 1:  You need to be at an appointment half hour ago, You're stuck in traffic and will not, at least today, be able to make the appointed time. What do you do?
a. You call the other party and tell them you're held up in traffic. Apologize. Inform them you'll make it ASAP.
b. Call and reschedule the appointment. Apologize? The traffic's not my fault!
c. Wait for the other party to call...you ain't wasting a dime on an unnecessary phone call.
d. you're already 3 hours late, they should have gotten the message by now.

If you chose (a), you may as well stand behind me with a sign on your forehead saying 'DUMBASS"! That's how I feel every time I have to wait for someone to meet me. In the age of cell phones it's amazing how careless and totally uncouth people can be, especially in a professional setting. If I have an appointment with my doctor, dentist, car servicing guy, swimming/karate coach or anyone else who I've given a time to, and cannot make it on time, I make sure I call them to let them know I'm running late (unless I'm piss drunk and can't remember the appointment). Isn't that the civil thing to do?

SITUATION 2: Someone sets up a group activity for your child, but the time doesn't gel for you. What do you do?
a. You thank that person, and perhaps ask if the timings can be changed a little to accommodate your child.
b. you tell the person the timings need to be changed to suit your child's needs. You'll thank them when the job's done to your satisfaction.
c. you confront them, accusing them of fixing the time purposely so that your child was left out, and threaten to get in your own activity group that would clash with the present one.
d. You refuse to talk to the person and make sure your child doesn't play with theirs.

If you chose (a), you may now change the sign on your forehead to "FREAKIN' IDIOT"! It amazes me to know that people are not only lazy, uncommitted and totally ungrateful, but top that with pigheadedness and unbecomingly rude, you've got a winning combination for the world's worst terrorist negotiator or parent (similar job profile). I know it takes different kinds people to make this world go around, but common decency is the crux of humanity....right?

These are just the tip of the iceberg, when it comes to dealing with really stupid people around me. In reality I do understand that every individual has the right to do as they please. But when it comes to societal situations it is a given that one should behave with others the way one would expect them to behave with you.

That's where my parents got it wrong!

In today's world it's every person for him/herself, no matter how arrogant, mean and bitchy you have to get. In this 'dog eat dog or get bitten on your ass' world, the concept of community seems to be slowly dying. Yes, we let our children play out in the park with the other kids. But where is the value addition for the community as a whole, where every member of the community comes together to do something as a whole, and possibly learn? It's impossible for me to just sit around gossiping about people who have no impact on my life. I'd much rather be in the thick of things that need to be done, but from my experiences thus far, I seem to be the fool. I sometimes wish my parents had made me a little less mannered, grateful, helpful and a lot more meaner,  ruder, and cruel. But then, I wouldn't want my children to grow up like that.

I have learned my lesson. I now fervently refuse to give up! I know my attitude gets me no votes as Ms. Popular, but that's not the aim...is it? Although I now refuse to put up with stupid people, I have come to the conclusion that teaching people, even one at a time, that common courtesy is expected from them at all levels, is the way to go.

They'll either do it or die trying!

Happy Anniversary X 2

Well, it's that time of the year when I celebrate having certain people in my life, who have made a profound impact on me.

It's been eleven years since I tied the knot, I'm sure sometimes it feels like a noose for my husband. But I've got to hand it to the guy, he's put up with me through all my avatars. I'm not even going to sugar coat this...I am a terror to live with. He found out early enough in the relationship that I could be a real bitch. I've had my ecstatic highs, and my dragged in dirt lows, done weird things, and things I can now laugh at (but were probably too stupid at the time), yet, through all my craziness he's been there, rationalizing, patiently observing, soothing, and probably wondering when the hell this was all going to stop. Although, he ain't that lucky, the lunacy has toned down considerably, but hey, he can't deny he's not having fun.

Over the years, I've come to accept the fact that I'm a lucky woman to have this man in my life who, although wouldn't mind strangling me on multiple occasions, would never accept me for who I am...a lazy, sometime inappropriate, hotheaded, teenager. I've never known someone to challenge me the way he does, to change for the better, to make something of myself. Now, in all fairness, had I been any other woman, I'd have taken this as grounds for abuse or at least harassment. But being me and knowing where he wants us to go, I'm grateful he's besides me pushing me to heights that sometimes I find impossible to attain, but do nevertheless.

Freedom of speech is very important to me. I am loud, many times controversial, seldom hold my thoughts or my tongue, but have never been opposed to doing so...well, maybe the loud part. I've learned through endless discussions with my husband that holding back, even when I'm mad as a cat with it's tail on fire, hurts me. For this understanding I thank him and his encouragement I am forever grateful for. Channelizing seems to be my only problem...but I'm working on it!

  I know I don't say it enough but you are  the sanity to my erratic mind, the foundation to my building, the skill set to my MBA, and the yang to my ying. Happy Anniversary darling.

This brings me to the X 2 of the Happy Anniversary. It's been a year since since I started my blogging adventure or mis, which ever way you want to look at it. It started out as a forum for me to be what I was originally good at....a bitch. I complained and raved and ranted about part of my life that I was sure was the worst thing to happen to any human being. It was a cleansing process, I had said, and to be very honest, it was. But as I cleansed myself I'd come to realize, what was past didn't matter anymore. It was only the future that really made a difference, and as long as I can try to make that great for me and those around me, I'm in a win-win situation.

So the other people I'm grateful to are You, my readers. Those of you who have stuck with me from the beginning know it all, and have graciously put up with all the crap I spewed. Those of you who joined later know me for what I can be. Either way, Thank you. Your support, comments (though I don't get enough of these) and encouragement tells me I'm on the right path.

All of you make me want to be better, in every way.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to shed a few tears of joy.

Challenged Technology...

I've been in the market for a new mobile phone for the past 3 months. The last time I bought a phone it took me 15 minutes, from selecting the ONE to taking it home. That was a few years ago. It seems I have grown more mature in my selection of technology OR have absolutely no clue what to buy. I think the latter holds true.

My adventures in buying technology have been, at best, sparse. The fact that I bought a video camera recently did up my confidence level some, but it wasn't without it's share of painful moments. Months of research in videography technology, DVD compatibility, lens zoom capabilities, handling, and best deal for my money had left me feeling drained yet exuberant that I could make an informed decision about buying a piece of technology that frankly, I'm yet to really start enjoying.

My technologically challenged brain has come to terms with the fact that if I didn't have my husband around all the time, to pester, question, requestion, and research my needs, I'd be driving a bullock cart and using a stone tablet and a chisel to write. Not that he's the one who buys my electronic stash. He's the smart guy who tells me to finally choose the one I feel comfortable with, knowing full well that if something goes wrong I'm still the one to blame for making the wrong choice.

Is this the dilemma most women face.... dependence on our male counterparts to help us choose which technology suits our needs the best? Yes, granted that 99% of all technological inventions and innovations have been made by men, but, considering nearly half the population on this planet is female, shouldn't women have a say in their own technological advancement, choices, purchasing power? Women are wired differently and purchases they make are often based on something completely different, and are often misunderstood by men. The answer lies deeper than just knowledge and education, but that's a whole another can of worms I'll open later.

For now, I embark of my mobile phone adventures less impulsive, better educated, well researched, and if I do say so myself, much smarter. Just wish I could say, I did it all on my own. But as the saying goes: "No man is a pillar."

 Looks like no woman is either!