““Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.””

— Ambrose Bierce

I have as previously mentioned, a very bad temper. Not a sulky one; a fiery, burning hot coal, bring down the wrath of the angels number which is not attractive and tends to present itself in one of two ways. Either it is a short sharp blast of icy low voiced rational school mistress Kate, which tends to be saved exclusively for phone companies and bad restaurant service; or in many people's eyes, the far worse alternative.

I get horribly sarcastic.

They say that sarcasm is the wit of fools, and I am inclined to agree - because it is usually me who ends up feeling foolish after the fact.

And the reason is this.

If I'm speaking with forked tongue, quite often I'm not truly angry - or not in the sense that one may expect. What I really am...

Well, what I really am is hurting. I've been injured by someone close to me's thoughts or actions. And we all know that the best form of defence is attack, so rather than grab a box of tissues and have a good snotty cry - or for that matter say to the person involved "I'm upset", Kate the Bruce grabs her own personal spider and throttles it with cutting words and is off out of the cave before you can say Scots Wha' Hae.

Leaving confusion and destruction in her kilted and claymored wake.

I know I'm not alone in reacting this way. I'm useless at crying, so instead I get lippy. There are many of us out there. In fact, there should be a support group; Sarcastaholics Anonymous. Except we probably couldn't ever meet as a group because we would just take the mickey out of each other, which would sort of defeat the purpose. So what is the solution?

I think it's quite easy.

People need to be really nice to me.

All. The. Time.

Anger, sadness and sarcasm all magically managed. My need to paint face with woad and wear Boudicca type breast plate? Fading, fading... gone. The prickle of traitorous tears (just because I'm bad at crying doesn't mean I don't) subsiding back into the ducts of doom where they belong.

This could well work.

Maybe if that happened, I would be so calm and peaceful I would be able to visit North Korea as a peace envoy to Kim Jong Nutbags? Admittedly I'm no Dennis Rodman...

So I may actually achieve something sensible.

Anger is a wasted emotion. Trust me on this one. So if you are getting angry because you are hurting, or sad, or just because you're a bad tempered redhead - ask yourself why.

And if the whole Utopian ideal of people being nice to you is pie in the sky (which let's face it, it is - unless you live with the lemurs in a remote and human-free part of the Madagascan forests) - then rethink the people you are allowing in to your life, and therefore having the ability to upset you; or in the case of Kim J U and Dennis, the aliens.

Make your life a Martian free zone. That's quite a logical thought, my dear Captain.

Live long and prosper. Without getting pissed off.

Too often.

““There’s no map to human behaviour””

— Bjork

I am by no means a perfect person. I am so full of flaws it isn't funny. I am attempting, however slowly, to fix the ones that are fixable; but I am willing to accept that there is no such thing as perfection in humans (except for Alexander SkarsGod, but he is semi-divine so is therefore exempt from the rules of men).

And yet.

We give people the benefit of the doubt. Particularly those we love and care for and about - it's natural instinct. If they do something that disappoints us, we usually try to forget and forgive - or at least forgive - and move on. If we didn't do that, then we would be both highly hypocritical and probably extremely lonely, because everyone is allowed to stuff up. Give some latitude, receive some latitude - it usually all comes out somewhere down the line on the plus side of the ledger rather than the minus.

But sometimes there is a point where it's actually unhealthy to just keep saying 'It's OK. I know you didn't mean to do that - and you have apologised, so let's just move on'. Because either the action was intended, and therefore the apology is simply dust in the mouth; or by accepting said sorries over and over for various actions, one ends up enabling behaviours that should never have happened in the first place.

Or sometimes... sometimes there isn't even an apology.

This may sound like a very serious and un-shoe like post, and yes it absolutely is. But when you realise that through allowing too much benefit of the doubt you are actively hurting yourself emotionally, then something has to give. And I think that it's important to admit that and not bottle it up. Because for me, that's when I start getting mean and that ain't pretty. Think Linda Hamilton in Terminator Two (but with better shoes) and you probably get the picture.

The Ice Queen Cometh.

Almost without exception, when I write a personal post like this, I get phone calls or messages from those close to me saying 'are you OK?' - and normally I say 'yes, you're reading too much into it - I'm just expressing what everyone thinks, but doesn't necessarily put into words'. But this time; well, this time it is about me. And it's not OK. I am angry, and fed up, and tired. I try to live by the maxim of 'give more than you take' - but sometimes people run with it a bit too far, and take without giving anything back.

Like James Reyne, who for once was intelligible when he was singing, I don't like that kind of behaviour.

So don't be so reckless.

Because it will not make me throw down my guns.

It will make me pick up my pen - which is, as we all know, mightier than any sword.

Or semi-automatic.

And you will well and truly learn where I stand.