Thursday, February 11, 2010

The Age of Road Rage

Here's my story:
I'm driving down airline on this past Monday afternoon. Murphy's Law was most certainly in effect on my life that day. The ATM shredded my debit card, I felt severely unintelligent after my morning Italian exam, I had a ticket for parking more than 6 inches off of the curb (really Highland Park, really?) I could go on for days listing things that did not go my way. 
As I was stopped in an afternoon traffic line for about a minute drowning in my sorrows and staring at the red light ahead with my chin on the steering wheel, here's what followed....
I happen to glance over to my right and the red face of a middle aged soccer mom is glaring at me waving her hands as if she was stuck on a damn island and calling to a incoming ship. She got out of the passenger seat of a red Volvo station wagon and her pre-teen looking daughter is in the driver's seat laughing. She proceeded to approach my window (that I kept shut) while vehemently waving her hands as I'm sure calling me something along the lines of a teenage idiot. Apparently I had been blocking Athens street while I was stuck in the traffic line (for a MINUTE, at the most) and she was going to let me know in the most enthusiastically rude way possible. Right then and there...I cried. Yes, sobbed. It was the flaming cherry on the top of my sundae from HELL.
Here's my question, my idea...
Why do people feel the right to outwardly express their anger in regard to cars and driving? It seems that telemarketers and innocent drivers get the most unfair expression of anger out there. The difference is that the face of the person angry at the telemarketer is hidden behind a phone and the "road-ragist" is only shielded by glass. She couldn't have honestly thought that I was blocking her in purposefully so what was the point of the tantrum? If positive energy is really as beneficial as I believe it to be I would love to see the a day in the life of a world where horns, middle fingers and mouthed curse words weren't allowed to exist. So ladies and gentlemen, please keep all of your pointless anger inside the vehicle. 

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Is love in or out?

About this time last year, my mother told me, and I quote "you bring in the stray dogs". Unfortunately she was not referring to my love for helpless animals, she was referring to my choice of boyfriends up to that point. I had been through the shy guy, the new guy, the boy two years my junior, the theatre buff, and most recently the athlete with the secret crying problem. In each relationship, most very short and very "high school", neither my friends, his friends, my family or his family was "all for it". Luckily only one got the disapproval from all categories. But what about me, you ask? Was I happy with him? 
Oh yeah. Each new relationship, starting with the "shy guy" in the eighth grade over AIM, was the most exciting thing I had done to the point. That is until everyone started asking me "why him?" or telling me they just "didn't see it". So I am sad to say that each one of these personal romantic comedies all came to a halt. But in each one I can't help asking myself, how would I have felt without everyone else's input? 
I know for a fact, without the strong opinions of my friends, my last failed relationship would probably still be going strong. However, when a friend tells you he looks like an "overgrown manchild", the chemistry is hard to find later in the day. 
My honest opinion is that if the two people in the relationship were the only ones allowed to comment or makes judgements about it, the world would be a much happier place. Think of the greatest love story you can....

Whether its Romeo and Juliet, The Notebook, Save the Last Dance or Drive Me Crazy (please no), all the couples ignored family, friends or society and went for it anyway.

If I think back, of course my cougar phase with the younger guy would have ended if it was solely up to me, the intensity of the thespian would have gotten old and the AIM conversation would have run dry, but what about the last one? Sure he cried two or three times, but did I really care, or did they?