A Quote by Paul Madonna

If I was feeling angry, I had to investigate not just who or what I was angry at, but why. And then I had to do the hard part and ask myself: Are you justified in where your anger is being directed? So, while I allowed my emotions to be valid, I knew that if I were to use them constructively, in the service of art, then I had to look at them dispassionately. Some might call this therapy, and I suppose it was. But I also had a goal that was larger than just healing myself, which was connecting to an audience.
But, finally, I had to open my eyes. I had to stop keeping secrets. The truth, thankfully, is insistent. What I saw then made action necessary. I had to see people for who they were. I had to understand why I made the choices I did. Why I had given them my loyalty. I had to make changed. I had to stop allowing love to be dangerous. I had to learn how to protect myself. But first… I had to look
A very elementary exercise in psychology, not to be dignified by the name of psycho-analysis, showed me, on looking at my notebook, that the sketch of the angry professor had been made in anger. Anger had snatched my pencil while I dreamt. But what was anger doing there? Interest, confusion, amusement, boredom--all these emotions I could trace and name as they succeeded each other throughout the morning. Had anger, the black snake, been lurking among them? Yes, said the sketch, anger had.
Anger at happenstance for its absurd timing. Anger at myself for being so angry. I hate being angry and every time I got this angry it made me more angry at the fact that I was so angry. I realized though that I couldn't really be mad at any of those things.
... some of my people could have been left [in Africa] and are living there. And I can't understand them and they don't know me and I don't know them because all we had was taken away from us. And I became kind of angry; I felt the anger of why this had to happen to us. We were so stripped and robbed of our background, we wind up with nothing.
Most of the world was mad. And the part that wasn't mad was angry. And the part that wasn't mad or angry was just stupid. I had no chance. I had no choice. Just hang on and wait for the end. It was hard work. It was the hardest work imaginable.
Elements within Malcolm's X own entourage, some of them were very angry with some of the changes that had occurred with Malcolm. One source of anger, curiously enough, was that - was the tension between MMI and OAAU, that the MMI, the Muslim Mosque Incorporated, these were women and men who had left the Nation of Islam out of loyalty to Malcolm, but then Malcolm continued to evolve rapidly.
One of the first lessons I learned as a mom was to forgive myself for not being perfect and to try to prioritize what was really important. I had to really accept very early on that after a while, reading a script and finding the form for the class trip, it was hard to realize which one had priority at times. So I just had to say, "You're doing the best you can, and when you make a mistake, apologize. Your kids know that you love them."
I had dreams. And I had to pursue them; otherwise my soul would have shriveled. The hardest part was allowing myself to want something other than what was socially acceptable, telling myself to go after it, then actually doing it.
I had one goal. I wanted people to really learn the tools that could change, because I taught finance for years, I network with people in their 20s, obviously, and all ages I've worked with. But I wanted to just take that to another level, and I also, quite frankly, was just angry. I was angry about the level of abuse I saw in 2008 that happened to people. I knew what happened, I had made a fortune during that time because when things melt down - and they're going to again; life is cyclical - it's one of the greatest opportunities in your life.
I've always had a hard time just being angry or just being really sad - the bigger emotions.
I just put myself in a hotel and was smoking coke for a while. Then I met up with the wrong people. I ended up getting in a hassle. I had to call the police and get myself arrested or get attacked, ripped off and got to jail. So I called the cops on them and myself.
I’m more comfortable with myself than when I was younger. I hated myself then. Wait, I didn’t hate myself – that’s a strong word. But I was so diffident. I didn’t know how to act, for one. I had no confidence in that area or in myself at all, really. I had a big inner critic and still do. I just don’t listen to it so much.
I was very fortunate to play sports. All the anger in me went out. I had to do what I had to do. If you stay angry all the time, then you really don't have a good life.
Some people had too much power and too much cruelty to live. Some people were too horrible, no matter if you loved them; no matter that you had to make yourself terrible too, in order to stop them. Some things just had to be done. I forgive myself, thought Fire. Today, I forgive myself.
I had to de-program myself. From myself. Had to reinvent rituals of purification. So full of the vagrant pollutions of others. It was time to detox. Not only from alcohol, sex, and drugs, but from needy leeches who looked to swab me with their sores. Detox from my own needy lechery. Had to locate the center wound and cauterize. Undo the original sin, the origin of my sickness...Had to learn to replace Them, It, Want, Hurt, Anger, Sorrow, Loss, with Power, Healing, Wisdom, Fulfillment, Satisfaction.
I just saw dialogue, in the audition, and had no backstory. I was like, "I'm just going to be myself because I have no idea who this is or where he's coming from." The typical questions that actors have to ask themselves were very hard. I had to imagine, a little bit, and just made it work.
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