Fire and Ice

I'm beginning to think that the people I already know are the only people worth knowing in this world. Everywhere I turn I see individuals that bolster my inward desire to develop a bad case of agoraphobia, hunker down in front of my TV or a good novel, make some popcorn, and prepare to watch the greatest show ever - The Apocalypse, otherwise known as the destruction of all humankind (including myself) via fireballs and nifty explosions.

Of course, I know that the end of humankind won't be that simple. According to all the "green" people that have been annoying the shit out of me lately with their incessant whining about off-shore drilling and polar ice caps and paper plates, our world will probably end in ice as a result of our own arrogance and greed. Remember that Robert Frost poem?

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also greatAnd would suffice.

I can't (or don't want to) picture Robert Frost "tast[ing] of desire", but the man makes a brilliant point. Well, well, well... he's somebody I never met who was probably worth knowing. I have to concede that I just might be wrong a lot of the time. Of course, its hard to make any sense when my mind is so cluttered with angry and cynical sentiments. It's like this boiling rage bubbling underneath the surface of my docile demeanor and it's very distracting. I know that this anger is mostly about stupid things of little consequence. It doesn't take a whole lot to set off the fireworks in my skull. It could be a dumbass actor telling a tired joke on my television screen and all of the sudden I want to have a comedian bonfire. I might have bought a one-way ticket to Hell this morning, because I said "Jesus Christ" about 1,000 times when the woman driving in front of me was being bipolar with the speed limit (old lady on a Sunday drive one minute, Speedracer the next),. Yesterday, I broke a pen right in half because Livy was trying to take it from me when I was writing. I've taken enough basic Psychology classes to know that what I'm really mad about is something else entirely. I guess it's easier to be angry at the little things, then face the truth about my own failings and disappointments in myself.

I guess it is good that I've retreated these past few months. I have made an art of isolation. I am a mason, working hard at the fortress, using every annoyance as an excuse to lay down another brick. It's an ugly wall, but it serves a beautiful purpose. It's protects both you and I from facing the consequences of uneven tempers and the impatient, whirring storms of discontent. And for the record, I also hold with those who favor fire, but only in this life and not beyond.