Rage

I was angry in 2001. I can only describe what I feel today as rage.  Rage that someone would do this to innocent people. Rage that the individuals responsible chose my new home.  Rage that the perpetrator thinks that it will somehow change us. I want to spit in the eye of anyone who thinks he can intimidate me into changing my lifestyle due to fear.  If I'm honest with myself, I really want to do much worse than spit in their eye.

My parental genes, at least on the my dad's side of the family, are pushing in a direction that doesn't surprise me.  Rather than cower in my home, where I feel safe, I feel an overwhelming urge to continue to do what I have always done.  I want to go to work and enjoy the time I have here.  I want to continue to help those that I can and, hopefully, enrich my family and my life at the same. 

Those feelings are at war with my intense desire to keep my family safe.

I resolved today, on my train ride home, to not cower in fear if I saw someone doing something wrong. I resolved to do something to stop it, if I could.  I resolved to be the person running toward the problem and helping rather than away.

I guess, in short, that I resolved to put my rage to good use.