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Anger Is My Happy Place

Anger Is My Happy Place

In general, I wouldn’t consider myself to be an angry person. There’s a lot of stuff in my life that make me happy like flowers, cats, and YouTube videos of kids crashing on their bikes.

 

I’m very passive and the thought of conflict scares me to the core. I’ll gladly let someone cut in front of me at Starbucks and not say a word until I leave clutching my almond milk chai latte.

“You know what? I should have kicked that guys ass” I’ll say to my fiancee before I burn my tongue. “You know I could kick his ass” I say fiercely fighting back tears because I burnt my mouth.

 

“Yes, I know you could” my future wife responds thinking maybe she should rethink that whole future thing with me.

 

In my standup I talk alot about my road rage. Road rage to me is the best place to threaten people. You can yell anything you want in the safety of your car…and then speed away. Although I can’t imagine anyone feels threatened by a scrawny thirty one year old, screaming till his face goes red, the intense sounds of the NPR spring pledge drive echoing in the background of his Honda CRV. I guess I like to express my anger in places where I’m safe like my car or hiding behind my 5’1 Irish fiancee.

 

For me anger is a healthy and necessary expression. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t condone violence, unless it’s against patriot fans. They deserve a swift flick to the nuts. Not a punch, just a quick flick of the finger to the old flesh bag. This doesn’t go towards women who are Patriot fans because those ladies scare me worse than cowboy fans. My fiancee is a cowboys fan. Sorry most of this post has turned into how I’m physically terrified of her.

 

Side note I hate the word fiancee. It sounds pretentious. So from now on I’m going to refer to her as “my bodyguard.”

 

As much as I love anger, it’s not a healthy state of mind. An improv teacher got me into meditation as way to “calm the demons.” At first I thought it was a ridiculous practice. Asking a sixteen year old to sit quietly and focus on his inner feelings is a terrible idea. He’s not going to sit and contemplate the mysteries of the universe, he’s going to sit and panic about whether or not he deleted all the cookies on the family computer so his parents won’t find out he was looking at porn.

 

I didn’t delete all the cookies and my mom was greeted to a woman sitting spread eagle on her desktop. To this day I’m still not allowed to use her computer.

 

But eventually I got super into meditation…which I now realize is a sentence every 19 year old girl says after getting high for the first time.

 

10 minute meditation sessions grew into 30 minutes, then eventually one hour. At times I took it too far like when I got the entire football team high and held a meditation session in the woods with candles and incense.

 

Meditation saw me through some of the toughest times in my life. I would wake up early before my job just so I could sit in silent contemplation before facing the grueling life of being another barista with a Bachelor in the Fine Arts.

 

I’ve recently rediscovered my passion for meditation because I drive for a living in Portland, which was recently rated as having some of the worst drivers in the country.

 

A therapist friend of mine once said anytime I’m stuck in traffic to repeat the mantra “right now, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

 

I’ve taken that mentality outside of driving and now apply it to everyday situations to help ease my mind and reduce my anger.

 

I’m frustrated about not getting booked on a comedy show:

“right now, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

 

A bartender pours me a weak shot of whiskey then charges me $10 for it:

“right now, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

 

The porn I’m trying to download on my moms computer is taking too long:

“right now, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

 

Me taking control of my anger isn’t so much about being a happier person, because right now I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. It’s more about being a better human for the people around me.

 

Because let’s be honest, there’s nothing more unattractive than a grown man having a tantrum in a Whole Foods because they’re out of ripe avocados.  

Self Help Is Exhausting

Self Help Is Exhausting

No One likes Me. Let's Keep It That Way.

No One likes Me. Let's Keep It That Way.