Racing to Red Lights

 

I got tailgated and passed by some guy on the road the other day. He was in a rush, seemed kind of pissed off and sped past me only to get stopped by a red light no more than two blocks ahead. He then proceeded to accelerate really fast off the line twice more before eventually seeing me creep up behind him at yet another red light. Each time got funnier and funnier until I realized we’re all that guy in a convertible Mustang sometimes, just racing to red lights.

We clock in on Monday and race to the Friday night red light. We set a goal to lose weight and stop working on ourselves when we get there. We binge watch the Sopranos only to have the series finale cut to black. I’m pissed. I’m sorry, I just finished it and feel as angry as convertible Mustang guy. The Sopranos debacle aside, I think people can relate to the feeling of revving up only to realize you’re going to have to brake hard because of the world around you. We may see people around us moving slower than we’d like and honk and act like a dick because we think it’s going to make them move faster, but it won’t. At the end of the day, the actions or inactions of people around you shouldn’t affect your mood, you should. We only get mad at other people when we realize that we’re the ones racing red lights.

 

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