TASK #7

February 11th--February 18th

Tempered Steel

No man can think clearly when his fists are clenched.   George Jean Nathan

Anger. Pure, unadulterated male anger. It's one of the traits of men that I can't defend, nor totally comprehend. It's not that I'm immune. On the contrary--I have a terrible temper. I have flipped off people on the freeway, baited people at dinner parties, chased my dog with the intention of shoving my foot up its ass, pounded conference room tables, fought in jealous rages.  

Road rage was my speciality. One day a guy cut me off at an intersection. I went eye-bugging crazy. I followed him for a few streets, then jumped out of my car and knocked on his window. He got out and punched me in the face. I end up flat on the street. He drove away.

I had to stop it. I had to find some control. i didn't wan't to make a mistake that would haunt me the rest of my life. Here's what I did:

TASK:

First, get a newspaper every day this week. Scour it for stories about violence. Violence caused by virulent anger. If you live in a small town then get on-line and check out the L.A. Times or the N.Y. Post. There's plenty of violent crime in those cities. Read the articles. Cut them out. Glue them in your notebook. 

Try to put yourself into the place of the victim. 

Second, write down every angry impulse you have this week. Every one, even if it's small--like the anger that seeps up the back of your spine when you through the drive-thru and you order a Big Mac Meal and you drive away and look in the bag and you realize the bone-head at the window gave you a fish sandwich. And forgot the fries. 

If you have any comments, feel free to e-mail me at joedoebula@gmail.com