It took a piece of furniture to knock the fight out of me.
i have very strong ideals. i respect other people's opinions but am uncompromising in how i live my life. i believe people should be treated with respect and am willing to defend those who can't defend themselves. i support my words with action. i am not physically intimidated despite my trim frame. In my olde age (well it feels old to me) i have improved my intellectual sparring and sarcasm to get my point across while alleviating potential physical alterations.
In adulthood fighting can get one into some pretty serious secondary problems. Nobody really wants to spend any time in jail. Criminal records are a difficult brand you carry with you for the rest of your life. Worst of all, despite the intent of injuring your opponent, the possibility that one could permanently cripple or even accidentally kill someone in a fistfight is quite a scary contemplation. i am not sure i could live with that kind of an outcome.
Despite my reasoning and knowing better, every so often i get my irish up. Frustrated with life's situations, sometimes getting physical seems like an appealing option. Youthful memories of throwing righteous fists and standing (sometimes scraped and bloody) for what you believe is right can become romantisized as the years pass.
Regular bruises and injuries from skateboarding and home improvements can teach you lessons about yourself. The pain reminds you that you are alive. The pain can make you feel physically confident. Combine this with the previous paragraph's tendencies and a pugilist is just bubbling under the surface.
The other day while putting the finishing touches on a 1/2 bath i've been adding to the house it came time to hang the fancy-dancy medicine cabinet my significant other picked out. It has an original hanging set-up that requires multiple steps. In between two of the steps the cabinet's door swung open forcing the top to pivot down with some speed. Lightning quick reflexes from years of skateboarding presented one of two options: a) let it swing down and smack you in the face... OR ... b) put your head down and take it like a man on the crown of your head. In that fraction of a second the latter seemed the logical choice (i didn't want my nose to to become even more crooked than it already is now after all).
After spending some time last night holding ice on my dome, walking around today with an egg on my head (shaved heads don't hide cranial trauma well), and having the rush of blood to the head from leaning over bring swelling pain in an instant, i am reminded that getting hit in the head SUCKS. Really.
Not that i'd be steppin' to pieces of wood, but the likelihood of taking one on the noggin' during a fight is pretty high. Any inclinations towards fighting have been successfully exorcised (for the time being). Even Tyler Durden realized the fighting needed to stop. Bitch slapped by a piece of furniture.
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