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.

Be careful what you hunger for; it’s very often not what you need
A year after surreal experience of surgery, I’m still happy to be alive
Human life has no meaning without ‘irrational knowledge’
Home is just a dream that some among us are still searching for
Social media creates shallow ties at expense of deeper connections
We need loving communities so we can know, ‘You’re not alone’
Political action may seize power, but only ideas bring real change
Ohio high school shooting shouldn’t be excuse to take more guns away