Anger

Have you ever been angry? I mean really angry? So angry your hands shook? So angry your heart beats - not faster but harder. So hard it hurts. Have you been so angry your chest is filled with a liquid heat, decidedly icky and unnatural. Time doesn't flow: it's a series of snapshots. I imagine that last one would come in very handy in a fight. Not so much in sending an angry e-mail.

I've only been that angry twice. The first time was when my little weenie of an ex-boyfriend thought he'd give stalking a try and took the keys out of my car while I was making the night drop at the bank at 2 a.m. after work. I didn't kill him, but I did get my keys back. I don't know what he was thinking. I was bigger than he was.

The other time was last night. It's not a pleasant feeling, ballistic rage. I don't enjoy it at all. If I were in an Icelandic saga I imagine I would have come to my senses surrounded by the bloody bits of my former neighbors and hightailed it to Greenland. Being in the 21st century as I am, I sent an e-mail.

It's all work-related and not worth going into for oh-so-many reasons. Have you ever read Atlas Shrugged? (Kim has. Hi Kim!) Somewhere in the middle of this enormous book someone describes a company that changed management and was run like a communist collective where all decisions were made in committee and everyone found reasons why they couldn't be the ones doing any of the work. I've been thinking of that lately. A lot. I'm an American: I want to work hard and I want to be compensated based on how hard I worked.

The problem with the adrenal surge of a ballistic rage (aside from the very frightening feeling of not being in control of your own responses) is that empty feeling when the hormones drop out. Both times it's happened to me the anger gave way to weeping. That's not exactly a ball either. It tends to freak out the children too. I was still crying when the UPS man dropped off my package: Anansi Boys. Both boys were doing their best comforting, "Look mom! Your Neil Gaiman book came. Doesn't that make you happy?" I wasn't a complete mess, by the way, I was getting dinner made and all that. My kids are just intuitive. That and I don't hide my feelings well. Too much Scots-Irish in me for that.

I haven't had the chance to read Anansi Boys yet, what with updating the resume and researching companies who hire for what I want to do and all, but I've been carrying it with me from room to room, like a security blanket.

I have read the inscription. He dedicated the book to me! Wasn't that sweet? Well, technically he dedicated the book to you too, but I think it was mostly to me.