Whirling

Frantic whirling is going on, but it's all in the head. "I shouldn't have said that," I insist, silently and only to myself. "I wish I could take it back." But I can't of course. What's said is said and what's done is done and that's pretty much the problem with life in general.

Twice now in recent days I've been reminded of my "wrath". Twice. By two different people. Two women. (Men, I assume, would simply think "oh shit" and dissapear. This is a vast assumption.) I do tend to get riled up. It's true.

And verbally... those damn words... I can really let 'er rip. After the fact -- after my wrath has been called out -- I wonder if I didn't actually mean my words, or if I simply should've come up with softer, better ones.

This is my pet project, really. Myself. Bringing out the strengths of this tattered ego and unfurling the flags of my psyche. There's a goal in here somewhere. A reason. A truth to be told. A story to relay. A soul to defend.

Yes, that's it. A soul to defend.

I am somehow naturally inclined to defend. I defended the kitten being swung by it's tail when I was only six. Got my first black-eye. I defended the girls being chased by the boys... or at least the ones running behind me screeching "Save me!" I defend the religious against the non-religious, and the non-religious from the believers. I mean to defend hearts from being broken, and then I break them myself. I am a perpetual traffic cop, just wanting the flow to keep flowing. I am quick with the advice and adamant about the suggestions. Bullyish, though my heart is is the right place.

That's just it... easy on the bullying, Shelby T. You can't make anyone do anything. That whole free will thing, remember?

Needs. I do have needs. I try to minimize them whenever possible. Something from Taoism tickling the inside of my frontal lobe is telling me if I am small enough I won't get hurt. If I bend enough, I won't break. Still I need. I need things spelled out for me. I need the obvious stated, and then re-stated again not too long after, because I might not trust my memory. I need clear stop and go signs. I need a manual, that I won't read closely but I will stick a bunch of post-it notes in at odd angles with little scribbles like "yes!" and "important".

I need petting. I need kisses. I need snuggling. Need need need. Knead. Twist turn, punch down. That's what you do with dough.

Punch this shit down girl. You've got stuff to do. You can't wait. Go! Go! Go!