What Makes Me Mad
It’s a mad, mad world
People getting shot makes me mad. Anything that hurts someone helpless makes me infuriated. Anything that hurts any member of my family turns me into Pele, goddess of fire. Feeling powerless makes me seethe. Popsicles that fall off of their sticks at inconvenient times tend to mildly annoy me. Being interrupted can make me snippy. Pettiness makes me grumpy. Not getting enough sleep or food transforms me into a very tall version of one of the seven dwarves.
The fact that I know that fellow humans, particularly children, are starving and lacking clean water elsewhere on the planet, or getting blown up by bombs, or sleeping on the streets, or thinking that no one cares about them or ever will, makes me mad at myself for not taking more action to help other people. Not living up to my own ideals makes me quite frustrated.
What I am doing about these things is the best that I can. I’m doing my best to do work that matters. I’m doing my best not to be petty. I’m doing my best not to lose my temper. I’m doing my best to turn anger into fuel for constructive action. I’m doing my best to make art that brings more joy into the world. I’m doing my best not to forget that some anger is justified, and to meet my responsibilities to myself and to others.
When all else fails, I give up and write silly things about hamsters. Sometimes, some days, that really is the best thing I can think of to do.
