cant_grip (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} cant_grip) wrote,@ 2008-07-21 18:53:00 |
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Red Flags #1
It was only 2:15 and already my favorite salad bar was out of chicken and romaine lettuce. I could tell something was amiss as I got closer to the array of steel buckets, shielded under their insubstantial sneeze guard. Little bubbles of hate began to form in the simmering water of my mood. When I drew close enough to confirm there was indeed no chicken, no f-cking chicken! I had become, once more, a seething cauldron of hate. If not for the friendly rapport I have with my local salad slingers, I might have done more than take a deep breath and walk out of the store. Stomping away I Glared at the sidewalk, at the cars, at the sexy european nanny pushing a stroller, at anything foolish enough to cross my path. My day was ruined.
When I step away from my life and look at it, I observe that little upsets can make me disproportionately angry. They do not always, but sometimes, like when I get these fat ghetto f-cks inching down the middle of the sidewalk, oblivious to any motivation but their own. I want to beat them within an inch of their lives and string them up on a traffic light as a warning to others: If you're too self-absorbed to share the goddamned sidewalk, you will pay with blood. Of course, all I ever do is clear my throat, jangle Lulu's leash, or maybe just say excuse me, before passing.
The the most painful part is awareness that I'm being irrationally un-zen and need to chill out before I die of high blood pressure. Oh well, I've had an ice cream cone since lunch, and I feel just fine now, thank you.
It was only 2:15 and already my favorite salad bar was out of chicken and romaine lettuce. I could tell something was amiss as I got closer to the array of steel buckets, shielded under their insubstantial sneeze guard. Little bubbles of hate began to form in the simmering water of my mood. When I drew close enough to confirm there was indeed no chicken, no f-cking chicken! I had become, once more, a seething cauldron of hate. If not for the friendly rapport I have with my local salad slingers, I might have done more than take a deep breath and walk out of the store. Stomping away I Glared at the sidewalk, at the cars, at the sexy european nanny pushing a stroller, at anything foolish enough to cross my path. My day was ruined.
When I step away from my life and look at it, I observe that little upsets can make me disproportionately angry. They do not always, but sometimes, like when I get these fat ghetto f-cks inching down the middle of the sidewalk, oblivious to any motivation but their own. I want to beat them within an inch of their lives and string them up on a traffic light as a warning to others: If you're too self-absorbed to share the goddamned sidewalk, you will pay with blood. Of course, all I ever do is clear my throat, jangle Lulu's leash, or maybe just say excuse me, before passing.
The the most painful part is awareness that I'm being irrationally un-zen and need to chill out before I die of high blood pressure. Oh well, I've had an ice cream cone since lunch, and I feel just fine now, thank you.
