Showing posts with label traffic jam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label traffic jam. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

You won't like me when I'm angry.


When I was in graduate school (which is a phrase I very much enjoy saying, because it reminds me of a time when I was actually a writer, as opposed to an auditor, which is still fine, but not quite as impressive), I went to a counselor named Etta who diagnosed me with an anger problem, which fucking pissed me off.

Because at the time, I did not see myself as particularly angry. It would make me mad, yes, when I would go to visit Etta and tell her I was doing very well that particular week, and she would say, "Okay, great! Let's talk about when you were nine and you were ugly and no one liked you." So maybe she got a skewed view of the situation. But that was more of an Etta problem than an anger problem.

But now I'm starting to wonder if maybe I really sort of do have an anger problem, at least lately.

At first I was just taking it out on passing traffic. Normally, I am a very friendly driver, and don't get stressed much if I'm running late or the traffic flow is moving slowly. But lately, I find myself leaning forward in my seat, kept in place only by my strap, ready to leap through my windshield and throttle those people who do not feel it necessary to abide by the speed limit, or who turn without their signals on. I also get angry at cute license plates and cars with ribbon magnets on them, because I feel if they really cared about their particular causes, they would man up and put a sticker on their car, rather than a removable magnet.

I've also become more of an angry person at work-- that person that you don't really want to go near, because they might launch into a diatribe about how it might be wise to give employees more than four days' notice that they're going to change the health insurance.

And Ashley got an earful of something I was angry about the other day-- I don't remember what it was, but I was pretty super pissed.

So one of my New Years' Resolutions this year (and I do make them early, in order to get used to the idea of sticking to them) is to become less of an angry person. Since I don't know how I got angry in the first place, this might be sort of difficult, but I'm definitely going to try, because I don't particularly enjoy it, and it certainly doesn't make me the best party guest for the holidays.

Perhaps I should call Etta and find out what she thinks about it. But she'd probably just refer me to her feeling wheel and then tell me to buy myself something nice, which generally seemed to be her approach to mental healing.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Whoot whoot!

I'm in the Dispatch again today-- you can see the column here.

I feel compelled to note, though, that this is the first time I have ever ripped off my blog for column material-- it's a rewrite of the Stuck In Traffic post of a few weeks ago. But funnier, I swear!

So check it out-- enjoy! Also, your thoughts on blog ripoff? It was justified, I swear!

Thursday, February 22, 2007


The following activities were performed in my car between the hours of 5:05 pm and 8:15 pm yesterday, when I was caught in a really bad traffic jam on my way home from work.


1. Called Ben to find out the situation: overturned cement truck at E. 140th. Minor annoyance.

2. Called Megan to find out when I will be going to visit her and her husband and their new baby! Fun times! Too bad I'm not moving at all. Urge to pee rising.

3. Called Kelly to discuss the newest BNL release, which I had planned on buying when I got home. Not only was it beginning to look like I wasn't going to get home in time, but Kelly infomed me it's not even that great, anyway. Then, phone begins to die. Must hang up with Kelly. Distance traveled: 1.3 miles in 30 minutes. Urge to pee rising.

4. Called Ben despite dying battery. Began to cry. Not good. Cut off old woman to get in far right lane, which I have learned from the radio is the only place to be to pass the overturned truck. Looked forward to seeing truck in flames, with cement volcanoing out from every direction.

5. Listened to Blue Collar Comedy on Sirius. Blue Collar Comedy is not really that funny, so I listened to a CD I made to take to Wilmington. Upon three consecutive listens, decided that I really don't like the song "You Can Call Me Al." Who knew?

6. Sobbed uncontrollably for about 15 minutes for no reason. Urge to pee reaching deathcon-4.
7. Popped massive zit on cheek, only to discover too late that it was one of those zits that is filled with blood, which made me look like a crime victim and thoroughly freaked out the people in the lane next to me.

8. Did more crying. Wondered if a pack of travel tissues would absorb at least a little pee if needed.

9. Finally approached the location of the so-called overturned cement truck, only to learn that it had been removed several hours before, and that absolutely nothing remained to impede the flow of traffic. Immediately began going 60 miles an hour again. Cried over lack of flaming truck. Cried bitter, bitter tears.