A Place To Draw Blood Laughing

I wrote in my very first, very precocious post in this blog that I would eventually talk about my relationship with annoyance. That was sixteen months ago. I think it’s taken me this long to come back to the topic because frankly, while saying that I’m easily annoyed is a telling insight into my character, it isn’t a riveting, full-length blog post.

I am very, very easily annoyed. Things can get under my skin like lighting, and once there they have a tendency to fester. But I’ve specified annoyance rather than anger here because such things never bring me to full blown anger. I rarely experience pure anger. In fact, I can count the number of times I’ve been genuinely angry, undiluted vengeful rage, on three fingers. Each time in relation to a single person, by the way. I have a thing about being personally wronged, and I include wrongs to my friends in the same category.

But while anger is a rare emotion for me, annoyance is a part of my everyday life. Little things annoy me: bad service at restaurants, lights that don’t turn green fast enough, not having correct change. Big things annoy me: human stupidity, inelegant systems, being patronized. I’ve caught myself making a particular face, a raised-eyebrow, wrinkled-forehead narrowing of my eyes, my mouth pulled to one side.

And yes, this has in the past filtered into my play, and my kinks. But not very often, and not with very much strength. I try to leave my shit at the door when I play, so to speak. Annoyance is not the right kind of emotion for me to work my way through via physical expression. It tends on the catty, sly side. I am much more physically direct. Anger, yes, I’ll work out anger physically, although not upon another person. Commonly upon myself, through bruises, music, mosh pits.

Sometimes the wry cattiness of my annoyed, demanding, *ahem* overbearing self shows up in scenes. But when it does, I beat it back. I flip the coin, so to speak.