A Mathematical Proof (with no Actual Math)
Given: 1) When someone’s being a jerk, everyone says they woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
2) My bed has four perpendicular sides.
3) I have been acting like a real jerk.
4) This never used to happen.
Prove: I have been robbed.
1. When someone is being a jerk, we say they woke up on the wrong side of the bed. (Given.)
2. I have been acting like a real jerk. (Given.)
3. Therefore, I am waking up on the wrong side of the bed.
4. My bed has four sides. (Given.)
5. I have tried waking up on all four sides of it but am still a jerk.
6. This never used to happen. (Given.)
7. Someone has replaced my original bed, which had right sides, with a bed that is identical, except that it has nothing but wrong sides.
QED, I have been robbed and obviously have also forgotten everything I knew about proofs.
The point is, somebody stole my bed, replaced it with a dud bed and the whole thing fills me with rage. Then again, everything fills me with rage lately. That’s the whole problem. I have little reason to be as grouchy as I’ve been for the month, but if I were to move into a garbage can on Sesame Street, even Oscar would be like, “Whoa. What’s her problem?”
If I were a cartoon character, I would be walking around with a thunderstorm over my head, using the lightning bolts from my personal cumulonimbus collection to turn the people I don’t want to talk to or look at or exist near into little piles of ash.
Some mornings, I wake up thinking that I’ve recovered — that I’ve finally found the right side of the bed. Then something small happens and clues me into the sad reality of my life now.
Subtle Hints that I Might Not Be in a Good Mood
1. Spending 70% of my walk to work mentally berating the guy ahead of me for walking too slowly and breathing too loudly.
2. Rolling my eyes at my cat.
3. Yelling at my french toast for screwing up.
4. Catching myself thinking, “Why are you speaking to me?” whenever anyone speaks to me.
5. Grinding my teeth every time I get a text message or phone call.
6. Typing mean comments about people’s babies on their Facebook photos and then daring myself to hit enter.
A little bit of anger is my constant companion, but usually if I lose my temper, it flares and then it’s over and I’m fine. This drawn-out, simmering rage is different. I don’t like it, which is par for the course because it makes me dislike everything.
I’m trying to fix it, though.
This Might Help!
1. I tried writing down the things that were making me angry to get them out of my head. It might have worked, except now I have a physical reminder of everything that’s ticking me off.
2. I tried distracting myself with a funny movie. I probably shouldn’t have gone with Planes, Trains and Automobiles because I do not feel less angry. If anything, I feel more angry. Mostly at John Candy.
3. I tried exercising to release endorphins. I thought my hate fire could fuel a good run, but pretty soon I realized I was just chanting, “I hate running, I hate running” in my head to the beat of my sneakers.
4. Right now, I’m trying to make a conscious effort to change my attitude towards the world. Yesterday I saw a Neil Gaiman tweet about loving everyone, which seemed like something I could get on board with. Now I’m thinking the same terrible things about the guy ahead of me on the walk to work and my Facebook friends’ babies, but I follow it up with, “But god help me, I love ‘em.” See? Nicer. Kind of.
If I can’t get any of these strategies to work, I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll just sit around waiting for the return of my normal bed with the nice sides.
In the meantime, I guess I’ll be here, writing about my g*******d feelings, watching this f*****g movie and trying to love a world full of b******s.