Repressed

A thoughtful week of guilt and regret for losing my temper with loved ones in Aberystwyth by Sea so I blamed Aberystwyth (See last Blog Post) I also feel guilty because this post is not in Welsh. I don't have the confidence and written expertise to write yn y 'Gymraeg'. There is a little tokensism at the the top of the Blog but that is it. I don't want to make mistakes you see. I am weary of extremes and polarities. I was told by a former creative partner that I was an 'Extremist'. Extreme in opinions, behaviours, actions. When drinking, one pint was too many and eight was not enough."The man who is a pessimist before 48 knows too much; if he is an optimist after it, he knows too little."  It was Mark Twain's quote about being a pessimist and optimist before the age of 48 which got me going. I identify as a Pessimistic Introvert but somewhere not far behind is the Optimistic Extrovert and this strange fellow usually shows himself after a few shots of tequila or a few puffs of Marijuana. It doesn't take a lot to get me whooping and hollering and dancing on the tables but then the come down the following day (usually a Sunday) can only be described as akin to the withdrawal from heroin. I have a delicate body and mind chemistry as anybody who has been on the end of one of my tongue lashes will affirm. I am a grandiose bastard and think I am important. Well you've got to big yourself up cos nobody else will unless they want to have sex with your body so look out ladies, if a man is full of compliments he's only after one thing. 'Eats, Shoots & Leaves' might sum men's psychology up accurately perhaps up until the age of 35 and then we take on the female characteristics of sensitivity, nurturing, shopping and gossiping.
There's something going round Facebook like a virus, up to ten things you didn't know about me. Now some people have gone to town! I'm tempted but I think I have revealed enough as the Shark Fisherman. I have shown enough stocking as it were. Well here we are on a Saturday Morning, I am listening to 6 Music and waiting for Johnny Vaughan to come on Talksport at 11.00 o clock. There is a lady whose voice goes through me a one 'Georgie Bingham'. Posh and Vacuous! I had to leave one of Cardiff's libraries this morning because the Lady there. Lady L I shall call her had a voice like the proverbial fog horn. I just don't know what Libraries have become. When librarians can't shut up then we are in trouble.  People seem so less self aware these days maybe because I am so repressed as one of my neighbours said to me. "See the problem is, you are repressed", he said.
I had to google it because even though I have studied 'Abnormal Psychology' at the Cardiff Centre for Lifelong Learning I was not over familiar with the meaning to it.
We have neighbours like this in Cardiff you see, honest to the point of bluntness
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psychological_repression
I have locked down and buttoned down and very aware of myself when out and about so perhaps once in a while, maybe every six months, I blow like Vesuvius. I have a long fuse but when I go, I go. So what am I trying to say with this Blog Ramble? "That some women's voices go through me like nails on a blackboard, that I am repressed, that I am an extremist" Doesn't sound too promising does it? I have my writing to sublimate my frustrations. Writing is very cathartic but its no substitute for sex.