Hackles

I finally decided to get a new bike. Seeing people gliding around in the warm weather is making me quite envious. Also I have some financial discounts from REI right now that make buying a third bike a little easier. I wandered in after work, already knowing what I wanted. I was just going to get the same bike I had before. Unfortunately, the only one they had of that model and size was unbuilt, and it won't be done until the 3rd. I wasn't happy with that, but with sickness creeping into my body, I figure I can wait a week.

Unfortunately, on the way home, I was just filled with such anger and sadness. It boiled around into a fist in my stomach and I felt the rage of this last theft all over again. I even passed someone with the same model of bike, and I wanted to demand to see the serial number on the bike and deliver a sound beating if it matched. I've gotten a bit paranoid and suspicious, evidently.

Mildly related is something I've observed recently about personal style. I've been working on an article for work, and I was doing the initial writing on most of it. I fancy myself to be a better than average writer, and I had constructed a nice article with a good motif running through it. Then other people got their hands on it, and the client put their two cents in and the article become unrecognizable. Even the underlying structure was switched around. And my hackles went up. Personal style is so subjective. I can't directly point some objective standard that demonstrates my superior style, but when someone starts hacking apart and rearranging something I'm pretty pleased with, it feels like a personal affront. I'm not supposed to be the primary author of this article, but still...

All in all, I've been pretty happy recently. Perhaps that makes these moments of discontent more prominent.