the rigidity and girth of my mighty hand (my arpeggios hand)
Tell us about it!!!And I don't mean arguing, I mean an actual FIGHT.
the little voice kept screaming at me to do something.
.Occasionally, throughout my life, I come across people who imprudently think it's a good idea to attack me.
Outside of a mental hospital, that's never happened to me.Either you're astoundingly unlucky, or .........could it be you sometimes act like a jerk and provoke them?Aikido had four levels of violence: Commit an unprovoked attack and kill your enemy, provoke your enemy to attack so you can kill him, be a victim of a completely unprovoked attack and kill him, or be a victim of a completely unprovoked attack but respond without hurting him.
Fight has loose definitions.To me it implies violence mutually consensual. Both people are angry enough they are willing to duke it out. I had one of those when I was 9 or 10. We swung clumsily at each other until we got tired, neither doing any damage due to lack of skill. Grownups don't do this (unless drunk I guess; I don't get that drunk). Others might want to include fighting with an attacker - could be a robber, domestic partner, feral dog, etc. That's nonconsensual violence. I'd call it combat rather than a fight. A fight generally includes some limitations on damage and at least internal rules. As an aide in a mental hospital I've probably subdued or helped subdue >100 patients. Some of them were small or weak, some large and powerful. I don't call that a fight, more like force applied as a medical procedure. There were always very strict rules to follow.One time many years ago I was surprised by an attack from a mental patient. He had a long history of unprovoked attacks and had seriously injured nursing staff; he was brain damaged and impulsive. But I'd known him six months without incident and I forgot. Also I didn't know the doctor had changed his meds.He jumped out of his chair and punched me in the head. My head went whang-whang-whang and I staggered back a step. He'd spun me a bit, and my vision narrowed to a tunnel with the adrenaline dump, so I couldn't see him at all, couldn't find him. So naturally he hit me again. I staggered back another step, head went w-w-w, and a little voice said, "sh!t". Couple more times, I'd step back, he'd punch me in the head again, the little voice kept screaming at me to do something. After about punch 5 or 6, the little voice said, "hey moron, if stepping back is getting you hit.........." so I stepped forward and ran into him. Now I knew where he was. Grabbed him, picked him up in a double leg takedown, bounced him down perhaps slightly less gently than I was supposed to, climbed on top and held him immobile, and called for some assistance to take him to a seclusion cell. In hindsight that little voice was kind of interesting. It was like somebody was talking to me, almost like a playbyplay in sports.
I'm neither. I'm just hated for reasons I can't exactly ascertain.
It must be your hair, get a new haircut.
I've tried that. It's gotten better since my natural rat tail shortened. I really hated that thing.
Peter Pettigrew is that you!?
Who?