Canda Pacific Still Runs Tracks and We Can Still Fling Bodies Boldy Over Fairview

Every once and a while I'll find myself in a situation where I get so exasperated, so mind-numbingly irritate that I lack the words to properly express my frustration. It is in these moments of great murkiness where one of two things happen. The first choice is rage shall erupt forth, I will yell, I will shout, I gesture angrily, and I will stumble out ideas from my head like some drunken patrons at a bar. Whole blocks will know of my anger; it is the very deffinition of, "causing a scene." The other, and more common, outcome is a great deal of silence; a great stweing of internal frustraion to a point where I may, hopefully, wield some great destructive force against that which I feel has become so deserving of my wrath.

I preffer this latter solution because it often gives me time to refocus and say, "no, you really, don't need to get that upset over this. He/She/They didn't mean to say something like that, let it go." In short, the pause in which I am attempting to perfect words so vile and hateful that the bark of trees would likely melt off, gives me enough time to bite my tounge and dismiss it.

The fascinating part about this, is I am not entirely rid of the bile in my throat, in fact, I'm sure that it's being buried off in the desert of my sub-concious. Still, the fact that I can dispose of the ideas is significantly better when I would just launch into the afore mentioned tirades. In short: I am thankful my aging process has allowed me to settle down a little.

-Thomas