Mad at myself

I’m mad at myself. Because I didn’t get as much work done as I had planned on getting done for my presentation next Saturday. Because I’m nervous (didn’t say the anger was logical). Because, because because.

So for my blag post tonight I am going to fess up at the anger here with the hopes of not taking it out on poor Edmund.

My presentation is all written out. But I want to do an informational webpage with links and a handout. Maybe I’ll save the handout for last. I don’t know. Because I need to create my PowerPoint presentation and practice and polish the speech. And look smart. And sexy. And make people laugh. And get to the point. And educate. No pressure.

I don’t like admitting my failings. Like my anger. Because this is not a righteous anger about injustice or inequality or even simple bad manners.

[Crap. Something just fell down in the bedroom. Edmund is not saying anything, so I assume everything is okay. Unless he’s not in the bedroom.]

Anyway. My anger. It is palpable. Yet unpinpointable. Is it due to the mountains of stress I’ve been under for the past few years, first due to finishing my college degree and then due to my father’s illness and death?

Or am I just an asshole?

It might be depression I suppose. Do people get angry when they are depressed? I don’t know. I seem to be functioning pretty well otherwise.

Anyhoo. Instead of ruminating in anger, I’m going to try to get some sleep. Maybe that will help.