Wednesday, May 20, 2009

I'm a Costco of Emotion

I have a surplus of feelings. I pull them around after me, like a little red wagon that comes to life and squawks for attention at irregular intervals. I laugh too loudly, and turn pink and ooze tears at the slightest provocation. I smirk at my own reflection, wince constantly, and jump out of my seat every time the phone rings.

My school reports had two main assessments: "has trouble with spatial relations," and, to no one's surprise, "high-strung."

I have yet to find a way to harness this surplus, and pass the savings on to you. I had a week of accumulated traumas and stresses, the sort that would be deemed a perfect storm if 'perfect storm' wasn't my second least-favorite cliche in the world. (The least favorite? "At the end of the day." That one makes me laugh, turn pink, cry, smirk, wince, jump, AND groan. I hurl metaphorical Gummi Bears at anybody who says it.)

So let's just call the last week one big honking mess.

And now I'm left with a new supply of surplus emotions, and nowhere to put them. And I think the best test of emotional maturity is knowing that you can't help what you feel, but you can help what you do about it. So what do I do about it?

Am I supposed to squash down all my ugly feelings until they explode from my ears, flood everything in sight, and eat away at the furniture like a hot-pink acidic Pepto-Bismol of the damned?

Or should I go condiment-style? Should I let out my feelings in tiny bursts at inappropriate times, like ketchup bottle explosions in rousing protest against receiving mayonnaisse on my hamburger?

Should I go numb, like a soul that has been strapped to a low-velocity vibrator for over twenty years?

Shall I do something constructive? I could build a beautiful cathedral out of the Popsicle sticks of my stress and pain and self-doubt. But with the real estate market being what it is, maybe I ought to be building townhouses or Dickensian debtors' prisons.

Or, I could mold my feelings into abstract clay forms and sell them at auction. But would there be any buyers?

Or, I suppose I could tell you all about it, but not really tell you, because these images don't even make sense to me. As far as outlets go, it's a pretty good one.


Malnurtured Snay said...

At the end of the day, it's a brand new day.

Shannon said...

Snay - And tomorrow is always a new day!

Tina said...

you could write really bad poetry (one I'm guilty of) or do some sort of weirdo tortured performance art where you smeay your naked self with candied yams - you co8ld even sell video of that on craigslist and make some cash from your angst.

I'd send you some virtual booze but I bet its not any more satifying than a virtual hug.

Brett said...

Really intense cardio. I did a spin class this weekend and cried a bit at the end.

Or, you could drink drink drink. It's a beautiful day for a margarita.

Shannon said...

Tina - Considering every day of my life is performance art of a sort, I like the idea. Candied yams would be a bitch to get out of my hair, though.

Brett - Hmmm...there's a kind of cardio that's been lacking lately...

Say, has anybody seen my filter? I swear I had one at some point...

Malnurtured Snay said...

And I'm still going to have to work. Alas.

Dana said...

I seem to have a lot of the same thing. I keep trying to find outlets, but then even more emotion comes out of those.

lacochran said...

I vote for the condiment approach. And drinking. But that's my answer for a lot of life's little bugaboos.

Still gotta say, I love the way you think/write. Thanks for sharing your thoughts through your blog, even if it's not always so fun for you.

jman said...

If you are looking for outlets may I suggest the ones just outside Leesburg? There are a ton of them and no doubt something for everyone and maybe more than one. Or perhaps you could resort to an ancient remedy, and have some leeches applied to purge the surplus from your system. Still at the end of the day, when the perfect storm strikes and you find yourself drowning in a cliched metaphor or your own devising, remember perspective, the thing that helps keep everything on the down low, if only one can master it.

Heather said...

In these cases, which they come up quite frequently, I just resort to sedentary mode with myself and my favorite pandora station or an old mixed c.d. from better times. Which almost always leads to random scratchings of abstract thoughts that I don't remember writing the next morning.

HP said...

I usually mope, sulk and whine. I wish I had a better way of dealing, but like you, I tend to operate on an emotional surplus. Perhaps we should go into business selling off our emotions to people who don't have enough of them?

Shannon said...

Snay - Start throwing books around, and, when your boss looks at you funny, say that it's performance art.

Dana - Hrm, maybe we can find you some emotion-free outlets. Like crochet!

Lacochran - Thanks! I'm actually fine, just had a really stressful week there.

jman - I usually settle for emotional leeches - do they work just as well?

Heather - Ha! Personally, I like to mope by digging up mix CD's (and, get this, MIX TAPES) made for me by old boyfriends.

HP - Who would be our target market?

Dmbosstone said...

I say let it all out right here. It's hard to be open with your feelings sometimes but I'm starting to do it more on my blog, use us as your attentive listeners. They'll love you no matter what!

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