I noticed that I’ve been pissed off about the traffic lately. It has been heavy, you gotta admit. But lately, I’ve been wanting to bring my pissed offness to another level. I want to write a letter to the newspapers, I want to write on online fora, to mailing lists, and on blogs. I want to tell people what I think is the matter. It involves buses, bus lanes, and people at the Authority having egos the size of a bus. I want mouth off and explain my whole brilliant traffic scheme; I want to describe why it’s crucial we get it right, and lay the blame on whoever is not getting it right.
Of course that’s going to get me into trouble with my dad, so I’ll shut up.
Also today, the printer where I was supposed to get my folio printed fucked up incredibly. The short of it is that they wasted my time, I had to get it printed somewhere else; and that delayed the delivery of my folio by another day. I was seething around noon today. I got home, I googled the company’s contact info but I couldn’t find it. So I actually composed an email rant to be sent to the large photography online mailing list I belong to.
But I discarded without sending, eventually.
It used to be that I could be very understanding of these things, and of people who cause these things. I could always play my own devil’s advocate. I’d see it from another point of view and self-mollify. It’s not that I keep these things bottled up inside. I let off steam, I rant to people I trust enough to let me just let it out. To keep it healthy, you know.
So I was alarmed by my reaction to these events of the past days. I actually went the extent of prolonged revenge-fantasizing or of finding ways to actualize my angry reactions. (That sounds so New Age, I just have to say. And I’m chuckling while I say it.)
Pia says, my god, you’ve turned into your parents. And I might have. I now know what they know, and see what they see. My clumsy metaphor for this is that they’re up the hill, and see what's after it. I’m going up it now and starting to see what they see. (Hence the expression? Maybe. Damnit.)
Sometimes I wish I’d rather be less aware. I miss being twenty and thinking that everything was mine for the taking. Back then I felt that I had time to make mistakes, to get things done on the second try. I know now that there are things I can't be. And for the things I want to be, I better get it right and get there now. You see those people living half-lived lives? That could be you.
Yet my time is being wasted and it’s all I’ve got. It’s my time! My time! I’m dying and they can’t show me my prints. I’m dying and the buses won’t drive straight.
Of course that’s going to get me into trouble with my dad, so I’ll shut up.
Also today, the printer where I was supposed to get my folio printed fucked up incredibly. The short of it is that they wasted my time, I had to get it printed somewhere else; and that delayed the delivery of my folio by another day. I was seething around noon today. I got home, I googled the company’s contact info but I couldn’t find it. So I actually composed an email rant to be sent to the large photography online mailing list I belong to.
But I discarded without sending, eventually.
It used to be that I could be very understanding of these things, and of people who cause these things. I could always play my own devil’s advocate. I’d see it from another point of view and self-mollify. It’s not that I keep these things bottled up inside. I let off steam, I rant to people I trust enough to let me just let it out. To keep it healthy, you know.
So I was alarmed by my reaction to these events of the past days. I actually went the extent of prolonged revenge-fantasizing or of finding ways to actualize my angry reactions. (That sounds so New Age, I just have to say. And I’m chuckling while I say it.)
Pia says, my god, you’ve turned into your parents. And I might have. I now know what they know, and see what they see. My clumsy metaphor for this is that they’re up the hill, and see what's after it. I’m going up it now and starting to see what they see. (Hence the expression? Maybe. Damnit.)
Sometimes I wish I’d rather be less aware. I miss being twenty and thinking that everything was mine for the taking. Back then I felt that I had time to make mistakes, to get things done on the second try. I know now that there are things I can't be. And for the things I want to be, I better get it right and get there now. You see those people living half-lived lives? That could be you.
Yet my time is being wasted and it’s all I’ve got. It’s my time! My time! I’m dying and they can’t show me my prints. I’m dying and the buses won’t drive straight.
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