Saturday, July 14, 2012


To me, being angry is a serious state, reserved for matters of life and death. I don’t get “mad” either – my grandmother always told me that dogs get mad, not human beings; human beings become angry. And anger was not to be taken lightly.
She gave me the same advice about love and hate, urging me to use these words as little as possible, assuring me I’d know when it would be appropriate to state that I loved something, or someone.

OK, so I didn’t listen to her about love, but I certainly did about anger. It’s such an entire waste of energy. I’ve been upfront with people and they’ve become angry at me, but I’ve never been a “read between the lines” kind of gal. Don’t ask me if you don’t want my opinion.

But then don’t accuse me of “being angry” when you’re really only dealing with someone who speaks her mind. I’m passionate, focused, energized, and sometimes frustrated and disappointed, but rarely am I angry. What’s the use? Quite frankly, unless you’ve wronged someone born of me or married to me, anger would never enter the room. If you believe it has, perhaps that’s something you might want to reflect on, because you’re most likely unable to deal with what constitutes your anger, and misery craves company. (Notice how I didn’t say “loves” company?)

I’d simply rather chose not to fight. This keeps me sane. I urge you to try it.