Jazzmino: Oh Vito

We had a great time and then I woke up looking like this:

Vito is ALWAYS in supply of the party pack. My lifelong nemesis. I have no resistance when under the influence of Vito. He’s so alluring. Dark and seductive. Reminiscent of a previous era.

And so the following day, my atonement takes the form of extreme exercise. In this particular case, I resolved my residual guilt (and bad taste in my mouth) with a 6 mile run in a cold beating rain along a gray shoreline.

Seattle is rendered monochrome in the winter. All green… or blue and most often gray.

Then add a dash of productivity to a substantial helping of exercise. Ha ha! I excel at life in the wake of a harmless little night out. I can hang and then get it done. Healthy and productive. Despite some mildly questionable (ie unhealthy) decision-making and late night taco consumption.

OUCH.

Laundry (productivity) sadly took a turn for the worse. Bending over to pick up a dropped sock, I came up and cracked my head directly into the dryer door (it apparently does NOT stay open, sigh). Sad, sad moment – actually MAD moment.

Disoriented, stunned and throbbing, bent over my bed, I succumbed to the tears.

And then… rage! RAAAAAA!

I had a full blown adult temper tantrum and fought an extremely irrational desire to tear off the dryer door and destroy it with my bare hands. I settled for slamming it a couple times and kicking it. Yup, I kicked my dryer door.

Don’t worry, I am small and incapable of damage. If there was any doubt, I have just proved this point.

Which is great, right? NO! Have you ever punched a pillow when you’re angry?

Not satisfying. AT ALL.

This is why I have fallen back on running, cycling, driving fast, progressive relaxation, stints of yoga and failed attempts at meditation (as alternatives).

Just don’t bother losing your temper, I say. There’s nothing satisfying about it.

But have you ever REALLY smacked your head against something? It is absolutely maddening.

I have a job that puts me at risk for hitting my head. Overhead hospital equipment, you know. The hospital equipment with which I regularly collide, dotting my body in (inexplicable and long forgotten) bruises. At least I have no recollection of their origin.

And what have “we” gleaned from several experiences of unexpectedly hitting our heads? Anecdotally of course, we’ve noted that it evokes an anger response.

So once I settled into a more rational state, I decided to research this response to minor head trauma. Don’t worry anger is normal. Sigh.

My first internet search offered up several sites on the topic of “hitting oneself when angry.” No, no google. That’s NOT the problem here. I didn’t smack my head against my dryer door, become angry and then start hitting myself.

Happy endings. Fortunately the running portion of my get well plan followed my mild traumatic brain injury (I was procrastinating) so all was redeemed... 6 miles and several hundred milligrams of ibuprofen later.

Driving home, wet but warm, with a cold but flushed face, calmed and at peace again, I decided to go to work.

Say WHAT? It is Saturday night and if Friday said anything about my joy of and commitment to socializing…

But working felt like an opportunity. It felt like the best antidote I could muster for how I feel right now about Friday’s events. An action I can take in lieu of dwelling on my utter disbelief that this country continues to reaffirm (with lack of regulation) that people should have the right to bear semi-automatic weapons. Maddening.

So today I woke up and went lifting (as noted above, I am incapable of defending myself against inanimate objects). And no, I do not think the solution is owning a gun.

Had a delicious brunch, selecting cheesy grits over biscuits and gravy, discovered wordament (thanks Tom), and ended the day with family dinner.