I’m mad that I’m mad about this

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This morning I sent an e-mail to a good friend. He thought that I was mad at him and while I wasn’t, I could see why he would think that. What I did send him was a laundry list of reasons I was mad about other things. It was long and varied. I was mad that American Airlines was charging me $150 to change a reservation. I was mad that I had to change that reservation for reasons that I felt were unjust. I was mad that NPR might loose their federal funding. I was mad that I had reacted so poorly at a fragile point in our friendship a few months prior. I was mad that Steve Carrel is leaving The Office. I was mad that I’m a college-educated hard-working professional, yet I can only daydream of affording a used Honda Civic.

For some strange reason, this friend hasn’t responded yet.

But for even stranger reasons, sending this e-mail made me feel… good. Cathartic. Why? Do I normally kid myself into thinking that little things don’t bother me? Should I start a better practice of airing my grievances more often?

Or was it because as I was writing my list, I felt a little guilty? Because while I was writing that email, I was eating a delicious lunch that I’d gotten for free because it was leftover from a luncheon held at my church. I got an e-mail confirming my Amazon.com shipment of Tina Fey’s new book Bossypants. I watched a storm pass from the comforts of my office, with a space heater under my desk.

Maybe while there’s an appropriate time to get mad, it doesn’t give me a carte blanche on whining. All it takes is a little perspective for me to realize, hey, it’s okay. In fact, it’s pretty good. God will either find a way to work through this or make me work through this. Quite possibly, both.

But, seriously, American Airlines- $150?

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