Friday night my friends talked about resentments. I find that if I don't have an experience in mind one will soon follow, and it did the next day.

Was my grumpy self upon waking Saturday, so mustered up the saliva to run. (Anybody run? Ever notice the salivating once committing to the run? Weird.) The grumpiness or the running to talk about first? -The grumpiness.

The grumpiness is just me fighting the fact that the world doesn't stop for me to figure things out, tap into god, stop futile thinking, etc. Point is, the world doesn't stop for me fucking period. Found myself saying the exact thing to Rachel this morning as she moaned about me walking ahead of her while she stopped to put on her sweatshirt on the way to the bus. Her moan turned to a frown with hair in her face. "The world doesn't stop for you, Rachel, so get happy."

(Learn your own lesson, learn your own lesson, learn!)

-The running. Forgot the world. And it did stop for me as I ran, but running takes effort. Gotta give to get. I ran to make good. I never run to work out, be fit, because the government says so. I run to keep from going nuttier than usual. I also run to satisfy my exhibitionism. Salivating now as I think about it.

The run got tough on the way home, which aroused my eager-to-problem-solve brain. No thanks, brain. Instead I was graced by a monarch butterfly lilting to set itself on a flower I ran past too fast to notice, then a father and daughter walking out of church with a balloon, a man across the street rolling by in one of those motorized wheel chairs, a hospital bed for sale on someone's front lawn, and finally a beep, smile, and wave from a couple guys in a truck. What was I talking about again? Oh yeah. Had everything under control after that run: the world in my hand, right?

Part of my Saturday grumping included work that night. We are short-staffed (because of my boss) and can't take a night off. Bitch, bitch, bitch. So I wasn't happy when I got to work to find my coworker had called in sick. "Chris gets sick?" I asked. Chris is a Neanderthal. Anyways, I wasn't mad at him--I hope he wasn't sick at all--I was ticked at my boss. Resentful. How about that?

I felt sorry for myself as conspiracies swirled in my brain and my chest turned to stone. I was the butt of some epic joke. Well, the busyness that made me dirty also cleansed me. Boss slipped me an extra $20 for my one-man-band.

Saturday left me with some growing pains ... and laughs at myself.