Venting

Today, I wrote a wild and furious email to MIB. I was venting, because of some frustration I have been experiencing in my personal life. I cannot vent in the blog situation. The people who know me from my previous blog situation might not understand. They would think I was a spoiled bitch who had no reason to complain. In the Place Where I Use My Real Name, I definitely cannot vent, because the object of my release would read the rant and think I was seriously angry with him. The truth is that I’m not really angry, I’m more frustrated and cranky. The only person I could think that would understand would be MIB.

In the past, MIB has also ranted to me about things that upset him in his life. I know he’s never seriously angry with his sweetie. He loves her more than anything. We both know that it helps to put your problems into words and bounce them off people who do not have a vested interest in your life. Sometimes you need another pair of eyes in order to see your own world the way it really is.

So I fired off an email that probably scorched some fiber optic cable on the way to his eyes. It was long, and I hope coherent. If you hadn’t noticed, I write much the way that I speak, and sometimes when I speak, I can go off in several tangents at one time. This might lead some people to think I’m scatterbrained and an air head.

I’d always had a problem with speaking well. I can talk, and have always been able to do so. Being brought up the way I had been, it was always considered more respectful to keep your mouth shut unless directly asked a question. In my later teen years, people would think I was stand-offish and snobby, as well as too serious. This wasn’t the case, of course. I was listening very intently, and would often feel like my contribution to the conversation wasn’t worth as much. So I never had much of an opportunity to talk.

Writing was another matter altogether. I’m a far better writer than speaker, especially when given an assignment where I have time. This is because when you write something of note, you are able to mull over the words, conjugate the verbs properly, and even add descriptors that would jazz up even the dreariest of scenes.

In college, I took a debate class, mostly because I thought it would help me get over my reserved speaking stature. It was a very scary experience. My first debate was a disaster. The second was better. The third, and my final grade, was another huge mistake. However, I did learn something. When I am passionate about a subject is when I do my best talking.

As for today’s frustration and my rant, I apologize to MIB if I sounded like the psychobitch from Hell. But thanks for listening. I feel so much better now.

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7 Responses

  1. How come you don’t send me psychobitch e-mails anymore?

  2. I think IBs and IGs understand all the venting. I’m sure you don’t have to apologize.

  3. Wanda… better watch what you wish for. You may regret wishing for it… 🙂

  4. I talk the same way I write: longwinded. I’m probably a terrible person to go to bars with.

  5. Not if I’ve been drinking first.

  6. Apology? My goodness. I thought your letter was sweet. Yes, there was frustration but … well … by now you’ve seen what I wrote back. In fact, I’ve seen what you wrote back too. Hmm. Is this right? People must wonder what we say in these mysterious things. Hah! Wonder away.

  7. There has to be some mystique. If not, we’d be just plain old ordinary people.

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