I have a gigantic Britney Spears rant stuck inside me - a really good one with gobs of sarcasm, a few curse words and a fair bit of venom - but I've been thinking that maybe this ranting business isn't such a good idea. I think maybe I indulge in it a little too much sometimes.
So I think I can curb this one, particularly since I've already unleashed it on My Beloved and diffused the rage a little bit anyway.
My Beloved and I have talked about this a lot - about how the anger we feel about what happened to us and our Thomas has leeched into other parts of our lives and rendered us bitter, jaded and decidedly curmudgeonly.
In short, we have no patience for a lot of the things we used to. Like Britney Spears and her boo-hooing about how awful her lot in life is. You know, the one she chose. The one she continues to pursue even as she damns the people watching her pursue it for watching her pursue it, which is what they're supposed to be doing in the first place.
Someone needs to buy the girl a dictionary so she can look up the meaning of celebrity. Someone also needs to send her some fabric since her clothes seem to be missing some bits and pieces. Like the parts that cover her boobs.
But I digress.
I've been wondering lately if we're simply keeping that anger at a healthy simmer by indulging in our rants and raves about everything from Bush to hidden trans fats. Because we do it all the time, My Beloved and I. We feed off each other's righteous indignation about whatever thing, person or event has most recently ticked us off, and off we go.
It feels good at the end of it, all that blowing off of steam, but maybe it's not as healthy as it feels.
Maybe it just makes us ugly, sad people that eventually no one is going to want to be around.
The only problem is, I don't know what else to do with the anger if I don't let it out in caustic vents about Britney's questionable mothering skills and atrocious fashion sense.
Is this just all part of the long grieving process or are we forever destined to be these two angry, wounded souls finding solace in our shared disdain? Have we already walked too far down this road to return to the happy place? Can we ever see life the way we once did? Does the ranting help or hinder our healing?
How can you stop being angry at the world when there's no one to blame for the sorrow you can't escape from no matter how hard you try?
I have no answers.
Just this fabulous Britney rant I'm holding in with all my might.