Concentration Failure
Things bother me, even what most would term petty, inconsequential things.  There, I've admitted that I'm a human being who lets little things get under my skin, grate my nerves, or just outright piss me off.  Anyone who has read this site knows that's true, and, in effect, this is nothing more than a post that allows me to choose a new target to vent on.  If nothing else, I'd like to think that I'm at least restrained enough when I'm feeling perturbed so as to not betray my true feelings, especially in public, since it's not a confrontation I'm looking for but an alleviation from that which bothers me.  When the alleviation fails to materialize, I'm forced to vent here, in my forum.  So, what happened today that requires my immediate attention of all my wrath?  People talking.  That's it, plain and simple.

To explain, as I'm enjoying coffee and a bagel at my favorite coffeeshop, I can't help but notice the guy at the table next to me.  He's sitting there drinking something, and reading a copy of the City Paper, the previously mentioned weekly rag that documents all the numerous events that occur in a given week here in Pittsburgh.  Nothing wrong so far, right?  Well, then it happens, the cellphone comes out,  and right then and there I should have known enough that this was going to be trouble and that I should relocate to another spot.  I didn't, and I paid the price.  He proceeds to make a call to someone about a performance happening tonight and goes on to invite the person with whom he is speaking and then describes who the artist is, their style, and all that jazz.  What's wrong with that you ask?  Nothing, except that his voice is loud, loud enough for me, and, I assume everyone there to hear the entire exchange.  To stifle my rage, I just hoped and prayed that this call would end soon and that the person he was talking with would have to return to work.  Thankfully, this is what happened.  But it didn't end there.

In walks a girl who saunters over to his table.  They embrace, and then the real trouble begins.  I've never heard someone talk so fast for so long in such a loud voice and never allow the other person with whom they are speaking say a word of rebuttal.  It went on and on.  I was dying.  I'm trying to read, and all I can hear is this motormouth yammering on about this and that, and I swear I'm about ready to take a final swig of my coffee and bolt, but I can't.  No, I sit there and suffer and pray some more that they leave, but they don't.  No, it goes on. 

Then, suddenly, they are gone.  It's quiet, and I can concentrate.  I've always prided myself on my ability to concentrate while reading in noisy places like coffeeshops or cafeterias, but I couldn't do it this time.  I was so relieved when they left.  I'd hardly had a chance to bask in this glorious silence, and here they come right back in.  He must have had to put change in the meter.  Then it starts up again.  Needless to say, I hurried along to finish what I was reading and left as quickly as possible. 

Why do I let little things like this bother me so much?  Isn't it bad for your health to get annoyed at little things that people do?  I imagine that all this time that I've spent fuming in silence must somehow accumulate into some sort of massive ball of tissue that festers inside of me.  I don't honestly believe that a huge tumor of unspent rage is growing inside me, and I doubt it's how people get cancer, but I don't think it is healthy. 

Whatever the ramifications, I can still hear his voice going a mile a minute in my mind and I'm ready to plunge my plastic knife for my cream cheese into him if he doesn't shut up soon.