The apartment furniture is still pushed to one side of our apartment while we wait (and wait. and then wait some more) for property management to get someone – anyone – from pest control in to look at the termites that may still be chewing their way through the wood that holds up our living quarters. The are dragging their feet, I suppose, is the most polite way to put it. How I put it, however is: they fucking suck and I can’t believe it’s taking them so goddamn long to have someone look at this – to take a fucking course of action other than sitting in their offices and hoping that we’ll just let it go.
So far I have stayed out of it because I inherited my mother’s anger issues (which made it easy for me to back into a tow hitch). When I get mad I don’t see things rationally or calmly . I can’t take the catch-more-bees-with-honey route. I like stern talkings-to that may or may not end in yelling, depending how the conversation is going. Wes likes to say that it’s my Latino heritage – the only thing other than a like of spicy foods that could be considered Latin in me. I think it’s because I grew up with a mother who would routinely berate clerks at clothing stores for not being able to return items, per their return policy. I try and temper it as much as I can, and it usually only comes out when I’m very mad at something that deserves my anger (like our property management).
What it all means though is that I usually take a back seat when issues like this arise because, really, no one likes how I act – least of all me. I try to step back and take a breath when I’m mad at something/someone because I know that in a day’s time I won’t be as upset and it’s not the end of the world. I have also enlisted Wes to tell me when I’m acting like a huge bitch. I don’t want to grow up getting mad over tiny things and taking it out on the people closest to me. I don’t want to be a person who takes offense at little insignificant things, ruining my day and whoever happens to be around me. I don’t want to be pouting at a party when I should be having fun. Basically, I want to enjoy my life and stop worrying about all the little things that are going wrong because there’s always something that goes wrong and if I do that I’m going to grow old alone because no one wants to be around that person (seriously, look at my grandma).
Wow, so this started out as a rant on the state of our apartment and went in a completely different direction. Let’s go with it.
I read an e-mail exchange a couple of weeks ago and I was appalled at how rude and insensitive I was acting. But mostly I was amazed at how angry I was. I shouldn’t be, of course. I should know by now that I do have the capacity to get angry and to write people out of my life for not living up to whatever standards I have arbitrarily put out there. But I feel like I have come a long way in the past four or five years to not make mountains out of mole hills. I’ve become a lot more comfortable in who I am and who my friends are. And I understand that life isn’t always about me and how I feel and what I want (no matter how awesome that would be).
I think Wes has been a big part of what has changed me. Sharing your life with someone makes it impossible to be the center of attention. My college friends and I were all so selfish. We didn’t really care about each other as anything other than a prop in our lives. Having someone who think you’re just as important as you think they are is something completely different. It sounds disgusting, but Wes makes me a better person. Suddenly I see myself through his eyes and my anger and despair over the small stuff is just not attractive. Watching him do so many selfless things prompts me to be a nicer person for no other reason than it’s the right thing to do.
Yes, I still sometimes yell when I get angry. And I still get angry about stupid things that aren’t worth my energy. But I snap out of it a bit more quickly because there’s someone standing next to me telling me that it’s not the end of the world that I punched a hole in his bumper with a tow hitch; that termites in the couch are shitty, but they’re not the end of the world. I’m quicker to bounce back now that I have someone to show me that everything will be okay.