75 mph

Let's get serious.

For Christ sake, every time I try to write something in a "nice" tone of voice, it comes across as overcooked pasta.

I am not nice. I am angry.

Bill Burr has this great bit he does in his latest special. His wife is telling him that she doesn't understand his explosions of anger. She says "You go from zero to 100 mph in a heartbeat." He says "What she doesn't understand is that I idle at 75 mph." Angily talking about them walking into a restaurant he says "I heard that guy talking too loud on his fucking cell phone when we were still in the parking lot!"

That's me. I idle at 75 mph. I am always instantaneously ready to slam my fist into a wall, or just get fucking depressed. Just like that.

It cracks me up when I am interacting with another human being and coming across like I'm some fucking normal guy. What's really happening is that just below the surface I am vibrating at the speed of hate. Ready to fucking explode. But I cover it up with layers of sugar and honey.

So I decided to write something nice about Memorial Day Weekend. Because the thought popped into my head Friday as I drove to work and saw happy vehicles driving by. My empathy gene kicked in. And I wanted to avoid my annual rant about how we are all fools who are exploited in the work force and fall to our knees in pathetic gratitude when we get one fucking extra day off.

Jesus, I wrote what I was feeling at that moment, but when I re-read it I puked.

Niceness doesn't work for me.

Let me tell you where I am at this weekend. Day One was comfortable. I got me some peace. Today is Day Two. The buffer day. I don't have to work tomorrow but I do have to work the day after that. So I can still breathe, but I need a little assistance from the emergency inhaler.

I'm getting restless. Developing anxiety ramp-up.

Concrete progress is the only remedy. I need something to hang my hat on. A course of action that will expel me out of my misery like Jonah out of the belly of the whale.

I am not confident that this will happen. I am not confident that my return to work will be successful. 

It could be a disaster.

But right now, disaster sounds like a solution to me.