Anger Management

Sometimes I laugh inside when people tell me how easygoing and calm I am. After all, I'm the same person who once upon a time pushed both her brother and sister out windows.

Now granted, I was only eight or nine when the window situations happened, and there were definitely legitimate reasons for all that going down, but still, it's been a long hard road to learning how to deal with anger in a proper fashion. I'll never say I have "arrived" as far as that goes because sometimes things happen that let me know I'm not "there" yet as far as being a calm, rational person.

Last night my seven year-old, "O", had baseball practice at our neighborhood park. This week we also happen to be babysitting my friend's dog, Jelly, a half Chihuahua/half wiener dog, so of course, she came along too.

The stroll to the park was uneventful except for my four year-old, 'T", complaining about not getting to be on a baseball team too. We walked into the park gates and then headed along the running track toward the baseball fields in the back.

A blond in a hot pin track suit was coming toward us and she was struggling to control a gigantic dog that looked like a cross between a Rottweiler and a Pit Bull. We moved to the side to give them a wide berth to walk in. Unfortunately, she had one of those leashes that extends and this dog came barreling toward us.

My son, O, is pretty afraid of big dogs so of course he started screaming and my husband quickly tried to shoo this huge dog away. The dog wasn't going for my son though. It was going for Jelly. And I was holding Jelly's leash.

I'm pretty afraid of big dogs too since I was chased by a pack of wild dogs in China. I've just never gotten over it. And incidents like this don't help.

I picked up Jelly and this other dog starts growling and baring it's teeth at me. I remember loudly saying, "You need to control your dog," and pink track suit woman laughed and started up with the, "Honey, come over here!" mess.

Just when I thought this dog was going to bite me or Jelly, my husband grabbed it's leash and started pulling it away from us. I just kept my eyes on pink track suit and repeated in the most unfriendly tone ever, "You need to control your dog,"

What does she do? She says, "Gosh, he was just trying to sniff you. You need to calm down!"

So many thoughts ran through my mind, mainly that I wanted to punch her in the face, kick her teeth in and, well, just take her out. Calm down? Sure, I'll calm down after I, ahem, stomp your behind into the dust. You can't control your dog, it's behaving in a threatening manner to me and my children, my husband has restrain it --and instead of apologizing, you're rationalizing what happened, acting like it's no big deal and telling me to calm down?

My husband grabbed my arm and said, "Just walk away. Keep moving."

I ended up having to run for an hour after that because I was talking smack about how she better not bring her pink track suit behind back to the park ever again, and on and on -- gosh my legs really hurt today but I was running out my anger. Even after running for an hour, I was still pretty steamed over it.

That's how I know I still have issues with anger. Pink track suit was wrong to not control her dog, but I probably shouldn't have gotten that bent out of shape. I just don't know if I can ever get to the point where I am actually able to be not so angry over situations like that.

I Need Anger Management Classes, But In The Meantime...

I'll warn you, I'm feeling a little angry right now. And I have an awful headache. Put those two things together and I'll be the first to admit that I'm probably not in a good place.

I'm sorry.

But if you think my less friendly, less cheerful musings are going to bother you, come back tomorrow and I'm sure I'll have returned to my senses.

Why the blog-rage? Well, here's a few things I'm thinking about after tonight's edition of my novel writing class:

1) Since rappers are being scrutinized about their profanity laced lyrics, why shouldn't fiction writers be subject to the same thing? For some reason, "high-brow" fiction writers can say, "F*** you, b***h!" and it's respected...as long as it advances the plot and tells us something relevant about the character. Those books go on to be bestsellers, get literary prizes, get favorited on Amazon. And it's all good. BUT, if rappers cuss and call folks out of their name, then we're a nation full of outrage. Call me a poor critical thinker, but doesn't that sound like a double standard to you?

2) I've noticed how when it comes time to describe a darker-skinned person of color, the Caucasian writer highlights what white teeth the person has. It's like those white teeth are a shining beacon of light in a sea of darkness. I'm surprised they don't also talk about how white the eyeballs are. How about this for you: "His teeth were white against the darkness of his skin. His eyes were dark pools in a sea of ivory." Oh please.

3) I don't give a damn that Michael Chabon wrote a 600 page novel and then tossed it out and started over on something new. Good for him. I don't have the luxury to do that.

4) Next time the question of, "So, what's everyone reading?" gets posed to the group, I'm going to say I'm reading The Bible. Or maybe I'll say that I'm reading a romance novel. I'm sure both of those would get the same reaction of horror. To add to the shock value, I think I'll then pull either The Bible or the bodice ripper out of my bag and provide a visual. Maybe everyone will be afraid and think I'm going to do a read-aloud.

I feel much better now. Thanks for listening.