What a weekend

One would hope that I add something to the world- be it good, bad, or indifferent- Me

I want to start off this post by saying how wonderful the weekend was. To describe the happiness at reading a book outside on the beach, that I didn't take a nose-dive on my roller skates, and that my parents loved the Hockey game was saw. That the Ducks and the Steelers won, and that the game played at Nikki's house was delightful. Even with all this good, I can't help but want to recall the bad.

Sometime on Thursday evening, the world sort of feel apart. I discussed things with Matthew, and no matter what the responses were, I was annoyed by them. Annoyed to the degree that I spent over 30 minutes searching the house for chocolate, having to settle on Chocolate pudding (of the sugar-free fat-free variety which does very little to actually solve a chocolate crisis). I proceeded to argue loudly and determinedly with my father and generally went to bed angry. Following that I got up angry. I went about my day fairly angry. Though I'm sure my colleagues couldn't really tell nonetheless I know that I was angry. I dejected the fairly straightforward healthy eating I had been doing so great at. I rejected any attempts my own psyche made to correct the attitudinal problem.

Then Matthew called again. He, of course, had no idea I spent the bulk of the day angry and pissed off. He had no idea that I felt that it was mostly his fault. We proceeded to attempt to resolve the problems we were discussing the night before, to little or no avail. Remembering my lunch conversations that day I even tried out a tip from Ron... but to no avail. My anger continued to boil and fester and grow. I tried to remain calm, to talk rationally. Every attempt was rebuffed with anger from the other side, or from an accusation that I was 'yelling.' Still, I got in the car to attempt to go to a friends house. To enjoy the Friday evening we had planned, and to resolve our issues. It turned from two very minor unimportant, and really solved problems, to a discussion about our personal communication. Without going to much into the abrasive car ride, by the time I hit the 22 I had absolutely exploded.

When I say exploded, I mean that in a very specific way. I yelled, to the point that today, three days later, my throat is still hoarse. I cried, to the point that I almost caused several high-speed collisions. At the end of it all, I don't think we resolved anything.

How much of this crap is really important? How weird is it that once I got there the hug made it all better and the evening and the rest of the weekend was brilliant, but that I still care about what happened on Friday night? What issues are important enough to know that you can not get through them? To know that attempts at a really long-term thing will be able to overcome?

well, on a more timely note, I'm supposed to go to lunch with Marshal. Here goes nothing....


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