I Am Anger, Hear Me Riiiip Your Heart Out

I know this guy who is just RIDICULOUSLY happy, all of the live-long day. He's smart and not obnoxious and has that easy comfort where he'll just talk all through class and smile and generally act like he's never had a care in the world, ISN'T THAT SO COOL. I don't know him very well but I limbo between wanting to be this guy's best friend and wanting to give him a stinging wallop upside his blue-bandanaed-head. How dare he be so optimistic.

I am not so perky-perky-how's-your-day. Today was great: I was all excited about the primaries and the future of our country and about the fact that a seventh of Portland showed up to see Obama yesterday, isn't that neat, but then I couldn't find a parking spot for half and hour and got burnt hashbrowns with my eggs and oh my goodness, I feel like I'm metaphorically strapped to this guy's back, except he's facing up and I'm facing down so he sees blue skies and fluffy white clouds and I'm like THIS IS JUST A BUNCH OF DIRT.

Burnt hashbrowns? Ruin a whole day? Really?

It's been a short day.

Not even that, really, this is just me. It's been a weird couple of months, and I'm excited and scared and looking forward to the future but also kind of looking back on the past. It's like I can't quite turn around all the way and look ahead, and my plans are shifting and my goals are changing which isn't even all of my own making, what with Chris not wanting to move for me to go to graduate school and now I'm going into a program that sounds great and lucrative and interesting but it wasn't what I saw myself doing, I had it all figured out and now NOTHING is the same. All that's scrapped. And that's life, right? Change. I guess it is, I just thought that I'd have more control about the outcome or at least the direction, but then I made decisions and those decisions helped other decisions fall into place while closing the door on others and I don't like this. I'm pissed, and I'm afraid, and I wanted to keep a foot in all of the doors so they can't slam shut but they did anyway and there wasn't a damn thing I could have done about it.

And my writing always reflects my physical state of mind; all breathless and winded like I want to stop running and just hold still and get my bearings back. Which I do. And frankly, I don't have a choice.