Yes, I am angry. Furious. Ready to start howling in sheer rage, except that it wouldn't do any good, and no one would hear me anyway over the neighbors on either side and the beer-swiller's boom box outside and the helicopters overhead....
I don't think I have to tell you why. And if I do, sorry to disappoint you. Even at my most infuriated, I'm not about to start naming names. Not any of them.
I am terribly frustrated.
Things are happening, and I don't have any control over a single damned thing. Not one.
Not positive control, anwyay.
Oh, yeah. With help, I can fix my computer tomorrow. I hope.
But everything else just goes on and on, and if I don't like it, none of the principal players involved gives a damn.
I keep doing my little act, hoping someone will notice that I try to do my job as best I know how, try to treat people as I would like to be treated. I care, and I love. With the least encouragement, I am positive and productive, capable of giving -- and willing to give -- my all. Which is a lot, really.
That -- if I throw in $4.95 plus tax -- will buy me a cup of designer coffee.
I have no idea which thing among the many sent me over the edge tonight. But I'm angry.
I. Am. Angry.
And I'm damn glad no one is here to see it. Not that I'm dangerous in any way, but simply because I'd rather others see me when I'm happy.
Damn, I'd rather see me happy.
I could use a little help with that. It's not forthcoming.
Which makes me even angrier, more frustrated.
This is one hell of a poor way to live, people.
1 day ago