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Marc Mason is a freelance writer based in Tempe, AZ.

Friday, April 02, 2004  
Lone And Level Sands

My depression began to shift and evolve into other outlets this week. It wasn't that I felt better or anything like that- I don't. But I did begin to acquire a sensation and feeling of rage that flickered and flamed inside of me at various times this week.

In certain ways, the rage was beneficial: I was working out one evening while completely in its grip, and the 24 minutes was almost literally over before I realized I had started. I wish it were always that easy to do Tae Bo. Of course, that would also mean I might be ready for the next level tape.

On the flip side, there are few things that hurt more than rage unexpressed. It's one of those feelings that moves around your gut and begins to eat away at you from within. Unexpressed rage is a soul-eating virus for which there is not an antibiotic treatment. It blows.

It may sound funny or even stupid, but I did manage at one point to find a creative and useful way of working through it. It may be only because I love science fiction, but I'll take what I can get. I sat and closed my eyes, and I tried to filter out the noise in the vicinity. Then (don't laugh) I pictured myself sitting on a pile of stones, holding a broken bone in my hand, and began to just beat the holy living fuck out of everything in sight. I swear to you, I thought I felt the wind from my rapid arm movements cascading across my face. There was no monolith in my visualization, and I didn't finish by throwing the bone straight up in the air, but it was all good nonetheless.

See? Being a semi-geek does have its usefulness.


9:17 PM

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