The trains got me home in a record 2 hours' time and I was angry. I devoured the fiction piece in the New Yorker before the first of three trains even came, and i was angry. I needed to pee like a racehorse 45 minutes away from home. I was bored with my magazine and now that i'm home, I'm hungry. And i'm still angry.

I can barely sit down to write this. My mosquito bites itch and i'm mad at them for being there.

What was the lesson to be learned? To sit and enjoy my training in patience? To understand and experience the art of delayed gratification? To not be so frugal about taking cabs home late at night? To learn that some things aren't worth saving my money for?

I wanted to kick the train when it got there, and i recognize the futility of spending my energy that way, but i wanted to do something about it.

i'm so angry.