I’m writing my blog before I eat dinner instead of after tonight.

I know, I know…. I’m amazing. Please keep your gasps of astonishment at my brazen audacity to a minimum. After all, I am trying to write here.

Not a huge heck of a lot has happened since yesterday. Oh right! I did a video, natch.

(Video) Editor’s Note : It turns out that Google Translate DOES have Tagalog. But it’s not called Tagalog any more, it’s called Filipino. So the statement “they do not have Tagalog” is technically true, but actually false.

Sorry if that blows your mind.

On a personal level, I am doing okay. The drama shitstorm has most definitely taken its toll on me emotionally, and it hasn’t exactly been fun, but it got my emotions flowing and gave me something to get energetic about, and that is all for the good in terms of my long term mood.

So in a perverse way, part of me is happy all this came about. It’s got my juices flowing and provided highly necessary catharsis that I don’t seem to be able to generate myself on anything like a regular basis. Now that I have opened up my life to the world a little bit, what do you know, it’s come rushing in like a herd of elephants.

And I could not be happier about it.

Urge to flee : minimal. I would be lying if I said there was none. I am not that healthy yet. But I am not going to listen to it. In fact, I will pointedly ignore it. I’ve listened to that Jagoff inside me for way too long, the one that is willing to sacrifice everything in the future, including dignity and self-respect, for escape now.

Fuck you, Jagoff. I’m filing for divorce. And I’m keeping the kids.

Plus, I now have a powerful ally in the fight against escapism : spite. It would make certain people all too happy were I to give in to the urge to back out and flee from certain projects, and like hell am I going to give them the satisfaction.

Never underestimate spite. It can keep you going when nothing else will.

There is one thing bothering me about my recent need to balance my enlightened self-interest and my righteous fury : I feel like it has made me somehow more dangerous. At the very least, I feel like I have shifted into a dangerous mode.

I will try to explain as best as I can, given current information blackouts.

Where to start. Well, it has been my theory for a long time that true deviousness comes from three ingredients : intelligence, rage, and a reason not to act on said rage directly.

That reason is often cowardice. The person is not brave (or stupid) enough to face the object of their rage head-on, so their rage gets directed into their intelligence to fuel their plotting and scheming and so on.

Relatedly but far from identically, the reason might simply be that the person is a thinker and planner, rather then a realtime actor and reactor. Indirect action gives them time to use their planning abilities to level the playing field.

That’s how it is for me. I have plenty of bravery when my dander is up. Arguably, I have too much. I’ll say anything to anyone and not give a fuck about the consequences.

Not hard to see how that could get me in trouble.

But I am a deep thinker, a planner, a hyper-focuser. This is a great and mighty power, but it means that I am not so great at dealing things in realtime, when there isn’t enough time to think.

I’m not helpless, but the sudden and unexpected throws me for a loop until I get my bearings. Give me time to catch up to what is going on, and I can kick ass. But without it, well, things get random and stupid pretty damn fast.

So when I say I feel like recent events are pushing me in a dangerous direction, it means that my anger under restraint is getting redirected into deviousness, not just as a weapon but as an emotional state.

And when that happens, I am capable of damn near anything, or so it feels. When the anger goes from hot to cold with me, it doesn’t die, it turns into long, thin, but oh so sharp icicles of solidified rage, and the side of me wielding them feels, for lack of a better term, evil.

Maybe that’s just because our culture is full of the anti-intellectualism of fantasy, where the good guy is always of the realtime action variety, and the villain is always the scheming and devious one.

So it’s not like I have a lot of heroic planners to act as role models for me.

But it’s hard to imagine that the urge to cold-bloodedly plot and destroy someone, however non-literally, can been seen as entirely good. Even if the cause is just and the person really deserves it, it will still leave us with a cold and uneasy feeling, no matter how hard we cheer at the results.

Even beyond that, there is a side of me that is just plain crazy. The part of me that identifies with the Joker, and the Kingpin. Part of me that is willing, even eager, to tap in the dark side of my intellect and use all my insight, empathy, and intellect to not just harm but destroy. To become an evil they can’t even comprehend, let along counteract.

I call it an evil because it’s malign, and because it would scare the hell out of all who witness it, including myself. The most hated and despicable villain is always the one who is truly devious and operates on an entirely different level than the hero. The one who is so intelligent that he knows exactly what you are going to do in any situation and can manipulate you like a puppet on a string.

I could be that guy. Not on a supervillain level, obviously, but still. It’s one of my facets, one of my potentials.

And I don’t wanna be that guy. The consequences of me deciding I don’t give a fuck about anyone anymore could be harsh.

And I like being sweet little ol’ me.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.