Speak to the hand
My asshole is full. Gatvol, literal translation: gat (ass or hole) vol (full). Try pronounce it: gaaat-fall. With a guttural ‘g’. Meaning ‘very fed-up or irritated’. It is a South African word, derived from the Afrikaans language, but widely used by all Saffers. Look up Saffer yourself.
I apply energy, with supposed good intentions, delivering up both beautiful and very very bad consequences. I know this: if I tried less to control my environment and tried more to manage my behaviour, my Contented and Chilled Level would increase. Yawn. Go stare at the sun. Instead, I have half a glass, feel at one with the universe, finish the bottle, start feeling like I don’t have a handle on the situation at all, take a pill, go to sleep, wake up tired and start applying myself all over again.
But truly, I am gatvol. My eye-balls push up into my frontal cortex. I’ve got a headache, can’t think; I want to watch back-to-back episodes of The Good Wife and go to sleep. All by myself. And dream for a very long time. And don’t tell me I will feel better tomorrow, that I should stop playing the victim, or worse, that I am a wonderful human being and doing the best I can. As I said, my asshole is full.