I have issues. Issues with others are more than likely actually issues with me. There are moments when I feel triggered for no great reason. This morning at the first coffee shop I stopped at it was after hearing the fourth and then the fifth Red Hot Chili Pepper song. The barista had tuned in to a Spotify channel that gave him exactly what he wanted, but the redundancy of the songs was seriously annoying to me. The funny thing is that I grew up listening to albums and often I’d play them multiple times. That was 40 years ago, and now I’ve grown accustomed to random playlists. Even 35 years ago, I was making my own mix tapes, and I made a load of them so I could try to avoid the redundancy of hearing the same thing twice a week. So, without having ordered yet, I packed up and left.

At the next coffee shop, I was again about to pack up shortly after arriving when the woman with her toy dog left. Then, I had to contend with the self-important macho blathering of the firemen next to me. The deal is that I never wanted to come to this coffee shop in the first place, as I know it’s busy in the morning, and I cannot help but listen to the banality going on around me. There are times my ears feel especially sensitive to the herd’s ruminations about bullshit, and I’ll either witness their descent into stupidity while I sit aghast in horror while at other times I must vacate the place out of fear that this special brand of doltish inanity could be infectious.

I readily admit this aspect of my personality is annoying to me. It is part of my road rage and a general sense of anger when I find myself at a loss for the sudden intrusion of other people’s hostility. I’m well aware of needing to find my inner zen, but the proximity of the trigger so near the surface of irrationality too often wins the day.

Time to order some earplugs.