Stuff On Top

May 7, 2002 -  9:30 a.m. 

 

Irritation is really kind of interesting in its very nature. The way it grows, step by step.

This morning I left my apt for work in quite a good mood.  For the first time in over a year I was going to walk to work (and by walk work I mean the 40 minute walk to the seabus not the 4 hour walk all the way to work).  It was sunny out and I was on time.  Things were looking just fine. 
   Halfway across the bridge my feet started to hurt. Given this is only 10 minutes from my front door it does no bode well for my walk.  However, this did not irritate me, but it did make the me think two things.  One, don't walk a long ways in my black runners, two, I am probably too heavy for my feet.  I guess this might have bothered me for more if it weren't for the fact that here I was doing something about it, right here at this very moment, walking to work.  So, not irritated, we are 1/3 of the way into my walk and I am still not irritated, why am I writing this again?

  As I come up to the first light, it is red.  No real surprise there, I am sure that a good 45% of the time it is red.  No real problem at all.  Then, I push away from the curb and walk swiftly to the next one, red again.  It is at the 4th consecutive red light that I realize that something is up here. I begin to notice that when I am 30' away from the light, the hand comes up blinking.  By the time I get to the curb the light has turned yellow.  It being rush hour, there are always cars waiting and darting across is not an option.  This doesn't just happen a few times, it happens every time.

   Part of walking as any sort of useful exercise is walking fast enough such that you are always just about short of breath.  Anything less and your body just assumes you are on your way to the fridge.  Sure sometimes it might think that you have moved the fridge to manitoba but the result is much the same.  By walking one block each time at speed, I am losing my heart rate on a consistent basis.  I push as I leave the curb and walk as fast as I can comfortably (I don't want to stink when I get to work, after all, do i?) and I hit a red light.  And not just the middle of a red light, but the very start fo the red light, in the yellow in fact, so that I am always waiting the longest possible time. 

Now I begin to feel irritation, and I notice that each time I am 30' from the curb and I see the hand begin to blink that it is going to take another tangible step higher, the irritation. And it does. All of a sudden the fact that my feet hurt a little becomes annoying. I begin swearing in my head at random things, well some random, some TRAFFIC LIGHTS.  I begin telling myself that this level of irritation was why I stopped walking to work in the first place.  It isn't really, it was actually a combination of winter rains and wanting more sleep each morning.  I just never really started again.  But I find that with my irritation levels being what they are it is very much more possible to make myself believe that this is the reason.  Apparently irritation at certain levels allows me to be irrational.

As my irritation builds higher and higher I notice that my violent tenancies grow.  All of a sudden I want this street person to accost and attack me so that I can take my frustrations out on him.  I decide that if I this is the case for every single traffic light until I get to work that I am allowed to be pissy all day and I am allowed to send out a series of ranting emails to my friends complaining of such. 

I think there are about 17 lights between my home and the seabus.  On about light 14 I had high hopes. At 30' the light turned green, I was sure I was going to make this one. I was suddenly happy, the world was not against me.  The day was filled with sunshine and cheer once again.  Yeah, uh-huh.  At 15' the light turned yellow in some sort of distorted lightening turnover and when I reached it, it was red already.  Talk about taunting me.

My irritation came pouring back in spades, although now I must admit that it was now dosed with a hearty helping of irony.  I might indeed make it through this without murdering someone, I found myself thinking.  When at light 16, I encountered a green that held, I think that my inherent love of irony had already dealt with some of the irritation.  And the green stomped most of the rest.  Although at the last light, light 17, when the blinking hand came up as I was 10' from the curb, there was more than enough to let me say, 'to hell with this,' and push across the street anyways.

It truly amazes me that irritation can grow in such palpable steps.  That we can be so aware of each one as it goes by.  That I can feel my ire rising by amount with each light I come across.

Now, 20 minutes later, my love of the irony of the world has been restored.  At least until I walk to work tomorrow.