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.

Quit using the word ‘masculinity’
Don’t trust this con man — or almost anybody else on ‘TV news’
Danger of Iran war getting stronger because of blindness, hypocrisy
Redemption of ’Bama’s Jalen Hurts illustrates what sports teach us
Intolerance isn’t just an American thing; it’s common to all humans
Murdered family cat in Arkansas is latest victim of partisan political hate
If you’re scared of being ‘bad,’ manipulated praise relieves fear
Loss of everything you value can be a new beginning, not the end
All I wanted was to be your hero, but I still haven’t found my way