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.

If president can just ignore laws, what’s the purpose of having laws?
Years later, Supreme Court justice apologizes to Susette Kelo, sorta
Social media is an addictive drug, so I’m kicking my Facebook habit
Do people change? Or do we just learn how to manage our faults?
Perfect time for reaching a goal can be right after you’ve given up
We’re trapped in our own heads, fearful of other folks’ judgment
No ebooks for me: Reading is about more than simply absorbing data