Chinese forums and blogs last week were abuzz about the latest spate of violence in children’s elementary schools here in China. Much of the anguish and anger seem to be targeted at the accelerating income gap in the society, exacerbated by corruption and nonchalance by local government officials. I have my own theory: China has become high-strung.

Just a couple days ago I experienced a perfect example of the degree to which the society has become anxious to the point of breaking, this past Sunday, during the May Holiday festival. Most countries take time off in the first week of May to celebrate May Day. Theoretically, the Chinese masses are supposed to relax during the three day weekend. (translation: shop till you drop, and eat and drink with abandon). Instead, I found myself awoken at 6am on the second day – a Sunday – by the incessant construction of a new collection of high-rises next door to my own. The construction went on until 8pm that evening. (and started up again the third day of the holiday). A bit sleepy during the afternoon, I sought to take a snooze – half-hour would do it, I figured. Instead, fifteen minutes into the nap the canon-booms of fireworks launched me from the comfy sofa. Newlyweds were arriving at their freshly appointed home, and felt the need to frighten away the same evil spirits that had apparently been be-deviling a different set of newlyweds at noon, just a couple hours before.

Literally minutes later a hydraulic drill began carving into the cement walls in the apartment the floor above our own, a common enough occurrence most days of the week. But this was a Sunday afternoon! We called the compound guards to apprehend the offenders, but they were unable to find the culprits, whose timing was immaculate: they stopped when the guards came into the building, and started up again minutes later. I bade my wife farewell in the hopes of spending a couple hours outdoors with mates over a few pints of beer.

While waiting for a taxi at the entrance to the complex of apartments I witnessed a fender-bender between two cars – a small bump, with nary a scrape – after which the drivers of the two cars emerged to begin punching each other. The twenty cars waiting to get past them on the road were not impressed with the display of misplaced testosterone, and blared their horns. The stalled chain of cars were immobilized by the raised barrier along the median, and by the tall wall keeping the cars out of one of the multitude of new construction sites that sliced the thoroughfare into a single lane. Most residents in most cities throughout China find traffic daily frustrated by construction that literally appears overnight, but takes weeks to evaporate.

The rate and massiveness of modernization in China is fraying nerves and sensibilities. Mainland Chinese are stressed beyond comprehension: stressed with change, with catching up with the rest of the world – with each other – and with simply staying in place in a world of accelerating reformation. A culture that for four thousand years has trundled along, metaphorically, at the speed of an ox cart suddenly finds itself ripping through time and space at supersonic speeds. Few individuals or groups can withstand such inhuman stresses without the occasional gripe. Or grisly deed.