[424] I Think You're Craaazy

Right now, I'm very confused with myself.

In a very important way, I consider myself a very mean person. It might be more accurate to say I'm very comfortable doing or saying things that are mean. It might be even more accurate to say I'll react in disproportionally mean ways to get the point across that you fucked up sending me the incorrect energy.

A few examples to illustrate. I grew up with an, arguably, verbally and arbitrarily physically abusive mom. When you're a kid and your stuffed animals are practically your friends, she gutted one with a pair of scissors as I cried harder than I ever have before or since. 20 or so years later after several years of not talking to her, she invites me to Thanksgiving dinner, I respond with variations on “fuck yourself you fat cunt” for several weeks at random hours of the day and night. Disproportionate response? It was to the police that showed up at my door making sure I wasn't mentally unstable.

Next is something a little more light-hearted. I went to a friend's house to party. The house portion of the night is wrapping up and me and another friend are dwindling in the living room. I'm fairly drunk, he's not so bad, but while we're chatting and about to leave another gentleman and his friend descend the stairs. One goes, “fuck you!” and turns the corner to which I respond “fuck you, you fucking faggot!” In a way that would very much convince you had a problem with the gays, which he was. He charges, we fall to the floor, I push up and put him on his back and raise my fist. My friend hooks my arm and spins me off, averting what I promise would have been a deeply regrettable situation.

Walking away is the clear and wise choice. Shutting up and ignoring are strategies you will not find me arguing against. I've been capable of it before and after these instances. Some situations just feel so “justified” even in defiance of a kind of standing hypocrisy. I could do the weird thing and claim all my gay friendly street cred, but that wouldn't really serve what I'm hoping to speak about.

The confusing part is having that representation of my person in mind while I experience the kinds of moments from a few minutes ago. I'm prompted by a picture on reddit of a fat guy dancing. The story accompanying it was someone laughing that they made him stop once he realized he was being laughed at. The look on his face in the “after” picture made my stomach sink. All the comments in the thread were in that justified righteous vein of “I wish I was there to kick those guys' asses,” just as I had felt. Now, I can accidentally make fat jokes for hours if I get on a roll, but that feels exceedingly different from tearing someone's heart out for dancing.

Maybe I like to live in a kind of contradiction? A superficial contradiction at least, as in on the surface, but with very real lines. I don't believe it is “correct” or “helpful” to spread hateful mental discord, yet, I think me sending vulgar texts is a different kind of terrible than picking on children or cutting up their friends. Who you fuck is one of the least concerning things I could think to name, but you bet your ass I'm going to sling ignorant hateful language if I think you gain a certain kind of “power” or “pride” in acting like an asshole because you think no one is going to challenge you. (He was being a dick all night.)

I like to work in obscenity. I think way too often that we have destroyed the kind of emotional significance of words or what connotation can carry. And for a population that primarily seems to communicate through feeling instead of thinking, I like to send messages that prompt you to react.

I was taught cruelty. I think it is so powerful that I can still get a little short of breath and misty eyed thinking back to situations from my childhood. I like to turn it into something superficial, cliché, laughable, and starkly contrasted to what we should expect out of ourselves. It's not about being an overprotective mom trying to pretend dirty words don't exist, it's about leaning in so far than you fall over and break the power. Small example, my friends practically ignore or don't hear the obscene or ridiculous parts of what I say anymore. A new person to our group asks every single person friendly to me why they're my friend.

I also feel like I'm standing up for something in my capacity to be mean. I can handle it, so to speak. It's borderline do as I say not as I do. I'm at home as the “dick” or “obnoxious” one as long as you understand I'm not trying to caricature and excuse myself as a person, I'm hijacking the language. As I explained to my brother who conveyed the message “mom's really worried about you, thinks you need help,” you can only speak “Crazy” to crazy.

Just this last weekend I responded to a random number scolding me over a Craigslist ad they considered too harsh and rude. I called them a nigger, assumed they must be a woman to sound this naggy, said I'd like to see (Not set! That'd be a threat!) them on fire, then innocently asked the question if texting me their number might have made them easy to find. Immensely inappropriate and disproportionate 13 year old 4chan shit...but who goes out of their way to bitch at people unprovoked? Maybe I just saved them from their own snobbery and accosting someone who's actually dangerous.

I know I'm a person, but I don't think I act like people behave. I don't think I'm appropriate or fit in unless I put myself in “normal person mode.” But I'm certainly not arbitrary. I'm not full of surprises like your friend who got a little too familiar with hallucinogens. You can see my jokes or “generally horrible sentient” miles and miles away. And I talk about it to give context, because superficially, I'm in zero disagreement with the kind of historical practicality that comes with a mature or stoic response.

I suppose if there is a war going on for your mind and battles are fought within the realm of ideas, I'd rather horrible things get thought about me, or focused on me, or blamed on me in the aftermath of my response to your wanton, seemingly random, flinging of horribleness around you. Lashing out in insecurity is the norm, no? Blaming others for your problems and making them feel as bad as you? But that can only be glancing blows, especially when you picked on someone who can take it, redirect it, and focus it back into from where it came. You may be able to rip out a “nice person's” or fat guy's heart, but mines still in the hands of a mom who tore out her child's.

I think we need new words to describe whatever my mean is. Because I'd like to believe there's a message that is easily lost in all the shock and awe of the naughty and scary words that next to no one is going to find my blog to explain to them. Simply “having your feelings hurt” or “offending” you are infinitely removed from preying on someone. To me, you've just then turned yourself into meat. Justified? I'd argue dramatically more so than our proclivity for violence. And I mean, it's not like they ever contact me again.