Always Control the Outcome

My Friends,
   In the quest to live life to its utmost for the sole purpose of having cool shit to write about, sometimes you must go out of your way for new experiences, and sometimes those experiences come to you.  And so it was yesterday, when I was hit by a truck whilst riding my bike.  Now without boring you with details about the circumstances which led to this collision, I will simply say that I became quite enraged at the driver and made my displeasure known to him.  This was perhaps the worst mistake I could have made.  I began screaming at him and calling him all kinds of fucking retards.  Seeing me in such a livid state the guy dug in his heels and tried to blame me for the collision saying I shouldn’t have been riding my bike on the sidewalk (funnily enough, his powers of observation failed to recognize that I had a walk sign and the ultimate trump card; he had a red light).  The conversation ended pretty much how you would expect: he said “Yeah, I’m a retard I guess” and he drove off.

“The most important time to be polite is when it is hardest to be so.” (Paraphrase)

   As he drove off I felt a pang of regret and wished that he would come back so I could apologize for my outburst, and say instead what would have been far more productive: “Hey dude, do me a favour and next time check both sides before you pull into traffic.”  With those words, said calmly, he would have no choice but to take a lesson from the experience.  Instead he learned nothing and now he probably hates cyclists on the road even more.

I guess I’m right up there with this douche

Congratulations me!!: I have just done my part to make the road a little more dangerous for cyclists.
   It was weird though, as he drove away and I began to feel regret, I also felt good.  I don’t typically become what I would call enraged, and as the rage subsided I felt what was kind of a high.  I truly believe it is important for human beings to experience the full gamut of emotion regularly for their own health, and with that belief in mind I could not help but think that a blowout like I had just had was in some way therapeutic.
   Aldous Huxley felt the same way too when he wrote the book “Brave New World,” in which a planned society has no cause for anger or misgivings and instead lives an ideal and happy existence.  The scientists in the book have figured out that human beings need these now-absent negative emotions for the chemical effects they have on the body and brain.  So they have developed the serum,V.P.S., or Violent Passion Surrogate which is administered monthly.  As World-Controller, Mustapha Mond explains to the protagonists, “V.P.S. has all the tonic effects of killing Desdemona and being killed by Othello.”

…ok sure, why not…

   But here’s the rub: I don’t recall a single instance where I have allowed myself to become enraged, or even angry to the point of fighting, where I did not regret it soon afterwards.  A burdened conscience seems the to be the price I pay for the physiological boon of violent passions.  For example, I don’t go out to bars to get into fights, but the couple of times I have shoved people I felt like a dumbass afterwards.  
   Of the two cases that come to mind, one was about two years ago and this chick I was seeing was checking the door of this bar while some other guy was checking it too.  The other guy’s friend yelled, “It’s locked, retard.”  Not even appraising the situation, I reacted and shoved the dude, asking him, “What the fuck did you just say?”  When he responded he was talking to his friend and not the chick.  I was immediately deflated and felt so bad that I apologized profusely and bought the guy a drink.  He was cool about it but I felt like a douchebag and it ruined my whole night because I would like to believe I’m better than that.
   The next instance was more recent: my woman and I were at a bar and since I was tired I was a little more irritated by the pushing and bumping that goes on on the dance floor.  By the time we went to the coat-check to pick up our coats, I had had just about as much of my fellow man as I could take.  When some dude jumped to the front of the line, I shoved him out of the way saying, “We were here first.”  This guy, obviously drunk to the point of incisive clarity, said the most profound thing: “You’re really gonna push me over a coat check?”  Instantly the shame washed over me.  He was just some 19 year old dude, also out with his woman looking to have a good time and not start fights.  It wasn’t like he was with a bunch of dudes acting belligerent, but I treated him as such and felt really bad about it afterwards. 
   I feel that males especially are in a catch-22 where if we react we feel like idiots afterwards, and if we don’t, we feel like pussies.  I would say that the best response, short of changing the perception of what constitutes masculinity, is to be judicious in every trial you face: you can’t let rage take over every time but you need to allow those feelings to be felt occasionally.  It isn’t an exact science, but then, what part of living your life is?
Stay Thirsty
-Andre Guantanamo

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Go'head! Talk some shit! :-)

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