mei

spend a lot of yesterday angry, for multiple reasons. lots of it had to do with my boy.. he's in a programming contest, so he's spent the entire weekend on the computer. i can understand this, having just finished my thesis.. but it's still a pain when i need help with dinner or cleaning or something. it's almost over, though. and he seems to be doing well.

the funny thing is that it's not even his fault that much. just before dinner, for some reason, i sat down and got just livid over nothing. i was seething inside, ready to hurt someone, for nothing. i don't know what that kind of anger means. i've always had a terrible temper, but i've learned to hide it really well. there's little difference between "pretty annoyed" and "absolutely furious" in my manner. except for when i'm driving. if i'm driving, i get really bad.. i start taking sharp corners way too fast, braking too hard, accelerating so quickly that the tires squeal. i know it's dangerous, but it's not that dangerous.

i've always wished i could throw tantrums. i spoke to a friend's friend named john once about it. john was always drinking - he ha a trust fund, and didn't really have to work. he was a sweet guy, but didn't have very much self-control. i asked him how he threw things. "you hold them, and you wind up a little..."
"no, i mean what happens in your mind, when you get really angry and then you snap, so you throw something. and you don't care about what breaks. what changes?" i suppose i looked expectant. he was confused. it was all quite perfect, in retrospect.
"um, i don't know, i mean, you just pull your arm back, and.." he trailed off, looking even more confused and unhappy. he'd never thought about this before. he had no idea, and he couldn't help me. "you pull your arm back like this, and toss, and let go," he said, still holding the magazine with which he was hoping to demonstrate. "you just do that, and, fuck. i don't know. fuck." wildness in his eyes. "it.. i.. goddamnit!" and all the tenseness in his body released, he threw the magazine, and hit the clock above the fireplace. didn't knock it down, and didn't break it, but kind of shifted it. it was a sturdy clock. "i guess like that," he said, the memory of his anger already fading. "you just get angry and it happens."

but it doesn't happen to me. and i wish it did. i get coiled so tightly, and nothing happens. hence the wish to explode, so often. not lately, though.

in other news, it's not so hot today. windy, almost stormy. not so hot, though. next weekend it's supposed to be in the 80s again. i'll go back to the beach.