Anger
Title
Anger
Creator
Jacob Schlitt
Description
"Having had a few angry exchanges with Fran recently, I began to think about this phenomenon."
Date
2012
Format
application/pdf
Type
text
Language
en
Identifier
ANGER
Text
ANGER
Having had a few angry exchanges with Fran recently, I began to think about this phenomenon. What gets people angry? Does everyone get angry for the same reason? How do we react when we are angry? Since I am writing this as part of my “story telling” I will try to look into the times that I got really angry, and try to answer those questions.
Much of life and drama, both fiction and non-fiction, seems to be about anger. Lots of Bible stories are about anger: God seems to get angry a lot; Cain gets angry at Abel; Esau gets angry at Jacob; Joseph’s brother are angry at him. The Pharoah is angry at the Jews etc. There are other feelings—fear, jealousy, envy, hatred, but they are acted out as anger.
The anger seen on TV usually results in various forms of violence: shouting, hitting, fighting, throwing things, reckless driving, shooting, stabbing, killing. These lead to detectives trying to solve the crime caused by the anger, or doctors trying to save the life of the victim of the anger, or a judge in a courtroom trying to decide if the person who committed the act of violence provoked by the anger, was justified or not, or whether the person accused, committed the act in the first place.
I have to admit, my anger has never really gotten beyond the shouting stage. An act takes place, or a remark is made which may make me angry. Sometimes I seethe within, feel angry, but say nothing. I realize I am dealing with personal anger, directed toward an individual, as opposed to anger at injustices in the world: torture, exploitation, hatred, sexism, racism, anti-Semitism.
Back to my personal anger, and it is usually very personal. I started this by commenting that there were a few angry exchanges. Of course, they were between Fran and me, not between a clerk, or a waiter, or a driver, all of whom may have aroused anger at one time or other. I get angry when Fran tells me she will be ready at a certain time and isn’t—not even close. I get angry when Fran tells me that I did not tell her something when I am pretty sure I did. I get angry when Fran misplaces things. I get angry when Fran tells me to wake her up, and when I wake her up, she doesn’t get up I get angry when I ask to speak to her and she tells me later, and later never comes. I get angry when I look around at the piles of papers everywhere, and when I try to straighten out the mess, Fran gets angry at me. I get angry at the mess Fran leaves in the kitchen every night. I get angry at the unopened letters that pile up. I get angry at the overflowing freezer, refrigerator and pantry. I get angry at the mess Fran has made of our car. I get angry ever time Fran asks me for the NY Times, which I left on the breakfast table.
At the moment, it is Fran who is angry. She is angry because she can’t find her coffee grinder which she accuses me of putting away. She is angry because she does not like the way the pots and pans are put away. She is angry when I ask her what her plans are for the day. She is angry when I comment about the letters that lie around unopened. And she really gets angry when I straighten her room because of the chaos, when company is coming.
These days, when I write anything, I check to see what Google has to say. It frequently gives me information and a different perspective. It also makes me feel as if I am plagiarizing. When I incorporate an idea that isn’t mine, it is plagiarizing. Looking up anger, I learned that it is a normal emotion. That’s good. Also that it is a positive emotion. That it runs from annoyance to rage. That you feel you have been wronged and want to retaliate. I like the image of a pressure cooker. You suppress until you explode.
Fran says or does something that makes me angry, and I explode. Ten minutes later, I have calmed down and want to pick up where we were before. Unfortunately, whatever Fran said or did has not changed, and trying to talk about it, doesn’t change it.
It is July 4, 2012, and I wrote the above a few weeks before. We are now in the throes of a major explosion of anger on Fran’s part, caused by the fact that I had written something about her (similar to the above) and instead of throwing the draft in the trash, I put it with the scrap paper I keep under my desk. Margot’s granddaughter was visiting, and I gave her scrap paper on which to draw. Turns out that one of the sheets contained what I had written, and Margot read it and talked to Fran about it. It brought Fran’s anger back with a vengeance. I tried to calm her down, without success. When angry, Fran sometimes sleeps in her study for a few days, leaving a comfortable bed for an uncomfortable couch, an example of cutting off your nose to spite your face. (And I wrote a piece about “paper” incorporating this incident.)
It is now September 21, 2012, and I am trying to conclude the pieces which I had left unfinished on the “desktop” of the computer. It is also “the days of awe.” I will ask Fran to forgive me, and I will try not to get angry, no matter how provoked and justified. I will not raise my voice. I will try to be understanding, and helpful. And understanding what I learned when I Googled “anger,” even though it is a normal emotion, I will keep it in check. I will change. Starting now. We will see how long I will be able to keep the lid on. I understand that Fran moves slowly. I understand that she is unable to straighten out her things. I understand that she must feel in control and competent. I understand that she misplaces things as a result of her illness. I understand that she has trouble walking, hearing, remembering. I should not let these things get me angry. And I shouldn’t be angry with myself.
I will direct my anger at the stupidity and deception of the Romney campaign. And at the Tea Party types who are trying to block immigrants and the poor from voting, and who are distorting what Obama has done and is trying to do. Perhaps I shouldn’t even be angry at them. They can’t help it. They don’t know any better.
9-22-12
Having had a few angry exchanges with Fran recently, I began to think about this phenomenon. What gets people angry? Does everyone get angry for the same reason? How do we react when we are angry? Since I am writing this as part of my “story telling” I will try to look into the times that I got really angry, and try to answer those questions.
Much of life and drama, both fiction and non-fiction, seems to be about anger. Lots of Bible stories are about anger: God seems to get angry a lot; Cain gets angry at Abel; Esau gets angry at Jacob; Joseph’s brother are angry at him. The Pharoah is angry at the Jews etc. There are other feelings—fear, jealousy, envy, hatred, but they are acted out as anger.
The anger seen on TV usually results in various forms of violence: shouting, hitting, fighting, throwing things, reckless driving, shooting, stabbing, killing. These lead to detectives trying to solve the crime caused by the anger, or doctors trying to save the life of the victim of the anger, or a judge in a courtroom trying to decide if the person who committed the act of violence provoked by the anger, was justified or not, or whether the person accused, committed the act in the first place.
I have to admit, my anger has never really gotten beyond the shouting stage. An act takes place, or a remark is made which may make me angry. Sometimes I seethe within, feel angry, but say nothing. I realize I am dealing with personal anger, directed toward an individual, as opposed to anger at injustices in the world: torture, exploitation, hatred, sexism, racism, anti-Semitism.
Back to my personal anger, and it is usually very personal. I started this by commenting that there were a few angry exchanges. Of course, they were between Fran and me, not between a clerk, or a waiter, or a driver, all of whom may have aroused anger at one time or other. I get angry when Fran tells me she will be ready at a certain time and isn’t—not even close. I get angry when Fran tells me that I did not tell her something when I am pretty sure I did. I get angry when Fran misplaces things. I get angry when Fran tells me to wake her up, and when I wake her up, she doesn’t get up I get angry when I ask to speak to her and she tells me later, and later never comes. I get angry when I look around at the piles of papers everywhere, and when I try to straighten out the mess, Fran gets angry at me. I get angry at the mess Fran leaves in the kitchen every night. I get angry at the unopened letters that pile up. I get angry at the overflowing freezer, refrigerator and pantry. I get angry at the mess Fran has made of our car. I get angry ever time Fran asks me for the NY Times, which I left on the breakfast table.
At the moment, it is Fran who is angry. She is angry because she can’t find her coffee grinder which she accuses me of putting away. She is angry because she does not like the way the pots and pans are put away. She is angry when I ask her what her plans are for the day. She is angry when I comment about the letters that lie around unopened. And she really gets angry when I straighten her room because of the chaos, when company is coming.
These days, when I write anything, I check to see what Google has to say. It frequently gives me information and a different perspective. It also makes me feel as if I am plagiarizing. When I incorporate an idea that isn’t mine, it is plagiarizing. Looking up anger, I learned that it is a normal emotion. That’s good. Also that it is a positive emotion. That it runs from annoyance to rage. That you feel you have been wronged and want to retaliate. I like the image of a pressure cooker. You suppress until you explode.
Fran says or does something that makes me angry, and I explode. Ten minutes later, I have calmed down and want to pick up where we were before. Unfortunately, whatever Fran said or did has not changed, and trying to talk about it, doesn’t change it.
It is July 4, 2012, and I wrote the above a few weeks before. We are now in the throes of a major explosion of anger on Fran’s part, caused by the fact that I had written something about her (similar to the above) and instead of throwing the draft in the trash, I put it with the scrap paper I keep under my desk. Margot’s granddaughter was visiting, and I gave her scrap paper on which to draw. Turns out that one of the sheets contained what I had written, and Margot read it and talked to Fran about it. It brought Fran’s anger back with a vengeance. I tried to calm her down, without success. When angry, Fran sometimes sleeps in her study for a few days, leaving a comfortable bed for an uncomfortable couch, an example of cutting off your nose to spite your face. (And I wrote a piece about “paper” incorporating this incident.)
It is now September 21, 2012, and I am trying to conclude the pieces which I had left unfinished on the “desktop” of the computer. It is also “the days of awe.” I will ask Fran to forgive me, and I will try not to get angry, no matter how provoked and justified. I will not raise my voice. I will try to be understanding, and helpful. And understanding what I learned when I Googled “anger,” even though it is a normal emotion, I will keep it in check. I will change. Starting now. We will see how long I will be able to keep the lid on. I understand that Fran moves slowly. I understand that she is unable to straighten out her things. I understand that she must feel in control and competent. I understand that she misplaces things as a result of her illness. I understand that she has trouble walking, hearing, remembering. I should not let these things get me angry. And I shouldn’t be angry with myself.
I will direct my anger at the stupidity and deception of the Romney campaign. And at the Tea Party types who are trying to block immigrants and the poor from voting, and who are distorting what Obama has done and is trying to do. Perhaps I shouldn’t even be angry at them. They can’t help it. They don’t know any better.
9-22-12
Original Format
application/msword
Collection
Citation
Jacob Schlitt, “Anger,” Autobiographical stories & other writing by Jacob Schlitt, accessed May 5, 2024, https://tsirlson.omeka.net/items/show/161.