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Light bulb full of anger.

I often struggle--grapple--with my temper. More often than I'd like to admit. Too often, probably. I've done a pretty good job keeping it in check over the years, I think, but every once in a while things get to be a bit much. Maybe it has something to do with faulty temperature regulation. Maybe you just wake up some days and everything in your head lines up such that you don't take shit from anybody the whole day. Or week. Or month. Uncontrolled tempers cause serious problems. This, I know. People tend not to respond well to you when burst into furious flames of unbridled, you know, fury.

I have to make a conscious effort every day to keep myself in line. Like yesterday. When my Mexican-American history professor canceled class via e-mail the morning of. When I got my genetics test back and found that they had failed to properly calculate my grade--an error which penalized me significantly--and then forced me to jump hoops to get it fixed. When my American culture professor droned on about how awful and arrogant the military is and how much he hated it for an hour and a half.

He actually equated the US to Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan. And everybody nodded, knowingly.

Then, when I was preparing to return to my car and go home after an utterly disappointing and frustrating day, I pulled off to the edge of the sidewalk to get my music playing and drink some water. During this span of two or three minutes where I didn't move from my position, a girl who was so engrossed in her texting almost walked straight into me on my very much parked bike. At the very edge of the sidewalk. "Oh my God." She said, offended. "Ass." She added as she continued to walk blindly down the sidewalk. As if I had been the one to walk straight into a parked bicycle. Incensed, I resumed my homeward trek.

The best part of the day came when I reached the intersection, a four-way stop. As I am not a douchebag bicyclist, I pulled to a stop at my stop sign. I deferred right of way to the car that had stopped a second or two before I had and then, as it passed, started across the street. I was, by all accounts and purposes, following the standard rules of the road. The woman who had been behind the other car, however, decided that since I was on a bicycle I did not count as an entity to which right of way could be deferred. And so she sped across the intersection and cut me off, an action which--in order to avoid a crash--required me to jerk my bike to a stop and her to actually swerve out a little bit. She was close enough that I could see the ratty tennis shoes that were sitting on the passenger seat. She shook her fist angrily at me and shouted some profanities that implied that I was at fault.

That was a tipping point as I flipped her the bird and tried, in vain, to chase her down the sidewalk to get her license plate. Unfortunately, she had already blown through the next stop sign and was long gone.

Days like that remind me why I'm such a bitter person. Days like that make me question why I bother trying to be a nice, compassionate person. Why I don't just have my guns blazing everywhere I go. It would, I think, save me a lot of headache in the end. People certainly deserve the worst, especially when it comes through in their own actions. And that is something I truly want to believe. I don't, because I can't, but that doesn't mean I can't wish. Especially on a day like that.

My Mexican American history class was canceled again today. Only this time he didn't send us a last minute e-mail. He let us show up and find out for ourselves. Today is starting to look pretty good.

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