Age of Rage

I am enraged. Woe is me. We’ve all heard it, whether it’s through our own self-indulgent grumblings about life’s horrible cruelties, or from our housemates’ fits of anger and general despair, the rage is there and it can’t be tamed.

Verbal spewing somehow has a similar effect to vomiting after a night of drinking; it’s nice to get it out, it’s nice to complain. But why do we think anyone cares? Empathy can only go so far, and after listening to people I do in fact hold near and dear to my heart babble on about how much everything sucks, I get bored, unsupportive and I mentally move on.

There’s obviously a lot to complain about in the world. Any form of ‘ism,’ the blatant divide between the global South and the North, our politicians, our economy, Metro’s utter uselessness—the list goes on. An excuse frequently used by enraged citizens, myself included, that we say justifies our anger, is that it’s a realistic way at looking at things.

I’m not promoting ignorance, but mental longevity.

Being angry takes time and mental energy. It’s annoying for everyone around you, and while it clearly serves some form of evolutionary function, it’s not always the most practical of emotions.

Anger is great for the short term, and for issues deeper than a burned pizza, being late to class and a bad mark on a quiz, anger in the long-term en masse has potential to bring about change.

Revolutions don’t occur with people fully content and happy with their situations, they thrive on anger, but anger with a goal and with an optimistic outlook to the future.

Optimism is hard, but it isn’t without its benefits.

While it may be more enjoyable to scream at the top of your lungs about how much you hate everything, how angry you are and how much the world sucks, your throat eventually dries up and you are forced to stop shouting, perhaps one of life’s cruel tricks.

We have maybe 80 years to live. There’s plenty of time and reason for anger and complaining, and perhaps we are all destined to become bickering, grumpy and old men and women.

While peppy over-done optimism is certainly as annoying as perpetual whining, there is a balance between the two, and in an inspired fit of happiness instead of my perpetual rage.

Today, I’m looking at the glass half-full.

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