I just deleted the first draft of today’s post because it was a rant that was bringing me down. It’s a reminder that, although I need to express those thoughts, that’s not enough reason to automatically subject someone else to them and that includes me. (does that track at all…?)
I’m not ashamed in the slightest. I had a rant. It was a good one, too. Full of invective and clever turns of phrase. It was sure to alienate some people and to rile others up in sympathy. But, you know what? That’s not the purpose of a rant. A rant clears my soul of muck. The muck is not the truth. It’s not points for communication. It’s not a dialogue.
A rant is a monologue. Sometimes it’s necessary that it be witnessed. Hence the phone and email conversations I had with 3 different friends late last week. (Thanks again, Jen, Char and Jenni. I really needed to be heard.) It’s a mental and spiritual vomit. It’s an exorcism.
Sometimes, it needs no witnesses. I mean, really NEEDS no witnesses. Like cement shoes, swim with the fishes no witnesses. Some rants are like messy mob hits. Horrifying, alien and no-one should ever see them.
Rant on, sisters and brothers.
Susan Scot Fry
Update… Okay, okay. The rant was about how I feel about the phrase “If you build it, they will come.”