If ranting is an art, I used to be a master at it. Give me an absurd headline and I could go on an hour-long monologue, fuming over stupid editors and the people who bought into it, with vidid descriptions, much to my friends’ amusement. Some people still like to remind me of their favorite rants of mine every time we see each other, ten years later. Eventually, I got tired of it. Tired of being angry over things I could not control. I still get frustrated, but mostly, I see what I can do about it and move on.
I have a friend who is equally skilled in ranting, but with a different view. “I feel energized by it, it’s not negative for me”, she said. While I have been limiting my rants, she embraces them.
This got me thinking. Sometimes I do miss it, being in that zone. Completely self-absorbed, loaded with emotion, letting words just flow out. Not a single thought of mincing your words. It’s a rant, everyone knows it, all bets are off. It is liberating.
But other times you’re just feeding emotions and stories in a loop, not resulting in anything. It’s just getting you worked up to the verge of a heart attack. And I think that’s the key for me, if something is worth ranting about. Can I use it?
If I can take that frustration and turn it into something, pour it into my writing, then yes. Ranting does give me something. It triggers my brain into making connections I might not be bold enough to do in a calmer mode. But ranting over lost internet connection, not so much. While it’s fun to impress others with my skills in creating offensive insults, it makes more sense to solve the problem or let it go.