I am angry.
It’s hard for me to admit that. I’ve written in the recent past — here and here — about the reasons for this, so I’m not going to waste time explaining the reasons again.
I spent most of my 45-minute drive home from the office on the phone. As I locked the office door, I made a phone call that I thought would take 60 seconds, but it dragged on and on. As I finally pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant for dinner, I realized that my muscles were tight and my jaw was clenched.
I felt incredibly angry. It wasn’t anger about anything that had just happened. It was more long-repressed anger seeping out. As I turned the car off and sat in the fading twilight for a few moments, I felt a rush of irrational anger and misery.
I wanted to explode. I wanted to cry. I wanted to angrily scream out to ask somebody why life doesn’t work the way I was taught it was supposed to.

There’s pain in many faces I see, as reality doesn’t match dreams
Our life choices dictate who will be there when it’s our time to die
What are the odds that gambling improves your economic future?
Path to loving a woman always starts with intimidation for me
Despite promise of new tech, today’s journalism is just trivia
A broken heart is devastating, but closing yourself to love is worse
If you cherish the things you love, never take loved ones for granted
We’re slowly losing our religion, but we manage to find new gods
We’re great at making big plans, but God laughs at our intentions