Dаz
67/365 # Can't shout, can't scream
Last day off before going back to work and a few hundred emails.
Took the boys into town this afternoon to buy them both a toy, they've been really good the last week and they deserve it. I've had the best time looking after them both and I can't wait to do it again.
So why the angsty photo? I'll tell you why. I've always been an angry person. I have my reasons, they're very deep-seated and I don't think I'll ever shake it off. So, a very angry person, but one who can't express that anger in any way. So whenever I get screwed over it makes me mad, but there's nowhere for it to go except inwards. People mistake this for patience (of which I have none), being laid-back (if only they knew) or that I'm just a nice guy.
The people that triggered my angst today: the letting agent that we rent our house through.
I hate renting at the best of times, but even though I earn a semi-decent wage we couldn't afford a tiny house in the worst part of Weymouth due to the crazy house prices down here. So we have to rent. We're good tenants, we always pay our rent on time, keep the house clean and tidy and never cause a fuss.
The last week I've been trying to get our letting agent to arrange for someone to come round and do a few simple jobs around the house (I'm sure I could do 'em, but I'm not paying what I'm paying to do their work for them). We've phoned a total of five times in the last six days and nothing's been arranged.
Then, after phoning them again and even paying a visit to their office I find out that the handyman had been round today to do the work - during the fifteen minutes I was out taking Ben to nursery. He didn't phone ahead to tell me he was due round, and nor did our letting agent. Now that's organisation. And he manages to come round during the only time I've been out in the last three or four days.
If I acted this half-assed at work I'd be torn a new asshole, and quite rightly. What really winds me up is the amount of money we pay out each month to these people relative to the service we receive in return.
And I can't get rid of this silent rage gnawing away at me - even when I had the perfect opportunity to when I went to their office. I could just about muster some straight-talking, this-is-what-happened, this-is-what-I-need-done attitude but what I really wanted to do is kick off - we've had to put up with this for years and it pisses me off.
That's a very specific example of course, but it helps me to explain what I'm talking about being unable to express my anger, even when it's due.
The other downside is that it's the people you care about that bear the brunt of it - I can easily tear a strip off Joe or Ben if they're playing up, sometimes I jump down their throats for nothing, I forget they're just being kids.
It doesn't seem right that I can be Mr Nasty with my kids when the people that do deserve my contempt escape scot-free. Except in the confines of my head where they suffer eternal damnation in a series of painful and slowly applied means.
That's what this image is all about really - it's a silent scream of rage, and the blurry thing coming off me is meant to be . . . I dunno . . . my rage or something? And the lyrics are from the song Yes, off the album The Holy Bible by the Manic Street Preachers. If you're feeling bad, you don't need to look any further than that album to find a lyric to suit.
The image itself . . . it's not quite there for me, it doesn't look quite right, or realistic enough. But I like the texture. It's OK. It's the meaning it's meant to convey that's important.
If you want to see how I wanted my picture to turn out, look no further than this shot by Harpo9. You should also check out the rest of his photostream if you haven't already because he's got some seriously good stuff on there.
Well, that's a lot of angst for a Monday - sorry but I find it so much easier to get this out in writing - verbally, I'm not so good at articulating myself. And it's back to work tomorrow . . . expect a shot of my earlobe or something ;-)
67/365 # Can't shout, can't scream
Last day off before going back to work and a few hundred emails.
Took the boys into town this afternoon to buy them both a toy, they've been really good the last week and they deserve it. I've had the best time looking after them both and I can't wait to do it again.
So why the angsty photo? I'll tell you why. I've always been an angry person. I have my reasons, they're very deep-seated and I don't think I'll ever shake it off. So, a very angry person, but one who can't express that anger in any way. So whenever I get screwed over it makes me mad, but there's nowhere for it to go except inwards. People mistake this for patience (of which I have none), being laid-back (if only they knew) or that I'm just a nice guy.
The people that triggered my angst today: the letting agent that we rent our house through.
I hate renting at the best of times, but even though I earn a semi-decent wage we couldn't afford a tiny house in the worst part of Weymouth due to the crazy house prices down here. So we have to rent. We're good tenants, we always pay our rent on time, keep the house clean and tidy and never cause a fuss.
The last week I've been trying to get our letting agent to arrange for someone to come round and do a few simple jobs around the house (I'm sure I could do 'em, but I'm not paying what I'm paying to do their work for them). We've phoned a total of five times in the last six days and nothing's been arranged.
Then, after phoning them again and even paying a visit to their office I find out that the handyman had been round today to do the work - during the fifteen minutes I was out taking Ben to nursery. He didn't phone ahead to tell me he was due round, and nor did our letting agent. Now that's organisation. And he manages to come round during the only time I've been out in the last three or four days.
If I acted this half-assed at work I'd be torn a new asshole, and quite rightly. What really winds me up is the amount of money we pay out each month to these people relative to the service we receive in return.
And I can't get rid of this silent rage gnawing away at me - even when I had the perfect opportunity to when I went to their office. I could just about muster some straight-talking, this-is-what-happened, this-is-what-I-need-done attitude but what I really wanted to do is kick off - we've had to put up with this for years and it pisses me off.
That's a very specific example of course, but it helps me to explain what I'm talking about being unable to express my anger, even when it's due.
The other downside is that it's the people you care about that bear the brunt of it - I can easily tear a strip off Joe or Ben if they're playing up, sometimes I jump down their throats for nothing, I forget they're just being kids.
It doesn't seem right that I can be Mr Nasty with my kids when the people that do deserve my contempt escape scot-free. Except in the confines of my head where they suffer eternal damnation in a series of painful and slowly applied means.
That's what this image is all about really - it's a silent scream of rage, and the blurry thing coming off me is meant to be . . . I dunno . . . my rage or something? And the lyrics are from the song Yes, off the album The Holy Bible by the Manic Street Preachers. If you're feeling bad, you don't need to look any further than that album to find a lyric to suit.
The image itself . . . it's not quite there for me, it doesn't look quite right, or realistic enough. But I like the texture. It's OK. It's the meaning it's meant to convey that's important.
If you want to see how I wanted my picture to turn out, look no further than this shot by Harpo9. You should also check out the rest of his photostream if you haven't already because he's got some seriously good stuff on there.
Well, that's a lot of angst for a Monday - sorry but I find it so much easier to get this out in writing - verbally, I'm not so good at articulating myself. And it's back to work tomorrow . . . expect a shot of my earlobe or something ;-)