You get up, and for no reason, you are just PISSED. You don’t remember your dreams from the night before, you just KNOW that something went down in them. Someone killed your hamster, your boyfriend cheated on you with a Japanese transvestite stripper-by-night/bus-driver-by-day, your parents moved and changed their number and didn’t tell you, which finally led to your understanding you are the least favorite and leading to years of expensive therapy that you couldn't afford, SOMETHING happened.
And even if you don’t know exactly what it is, you know you’re mad about it. And you are just going to keep that mad going. On those days, I’m not doing anything so tame as “waking up.” No, I am GETTING THE HELL OUT OF SLEEP! And I see my alarm clock, and it’s buzzing, and that annoying little beeping isn’t just gently awakening me from a deep sleep, it is jackhammering my face screaming “WAKE UP, SUCKA! You gotta go to WORK! HAAAAHA!” My alarm clock is taunting me, and I cannot handle that level of childish mockery at 7:00 in the morning.
Have I ever mentioned that I am not a morning person? I don’t like for anyone to talk to me for that first maybe 30 minutes of being awake. I just shower, and go about my morning, and by the time I get on the train, I am awake and ready to greet people civilly. Usually, anyway.
Things that normally wouldn’t bother me, or that I might not notice, suddenly become a HUGE DEAL. Stub my toe? I curse like a sailor. Loudly. Shower isn’t getting hot fast enough to please me? Curse at it, in multiple languages, and maybe throw in a hand gesture or 2, all while cranking it to the “Fire of a Thousand Suns” setting. And THEN (you know you saw this coming) being supremely annoyed when it’s so hot that the shower curtain starts to melt into a sad plastic-y puddle.
But ok, let’s say you make through your morning routine and out the door, all without killing yourself with a business card, just to make a point. You don’t know what that point might be at the moment, but you’re pretty sure it has a “deeper meaning” and substance, and that only poor misunderstood, pissed-off you would “get it.”
Not catching the light to cross the street, a pedestrian asking me for ANYTHING, the train not magically arriving as my feet step onto the platform, anything is fuel for my mood.
My sister-in-law was once mad for an entire day, and smacked my brother upon waking up, because she had a dream in which he cheated on her. 99% of the time I think that’s insane. That one day I wake up ready to kick a squirrel, I figure he probably had it coming.
Then, suddenly, I'm fine. I don’t know what made me want to suddenly stop mentally burning everyone’s hair, but I’m suddenly completely okay again. My mood is uplifted, my optimism is back in place, and I’m happy again. And off I go, tra-la-la-ing, as if nothing happened.