Guardian Angel

It's been a few weeks now, so I feel like I can post this without getting too much flack from those that love me. Trust me, I know that I deserve all the flack you want to instill upon me. Perhaps a hug would also do...
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It is Monday, March 15th and I am drafting this post about a revelation I had last evening. I am not certain when I will actually set this message free, because I know it will deeply worry some people. Therefore, I need to put some distance between the event and the knowledge of it. Right now it is a little too raw for me, and I think I would be uncomfortable if someone asked me about. Maybe in a few days, a week...whenever you are reading this...I will have come to terms. 

I was in Virginia last night. I met a friend for dinner in Greensboro and then decided to hear him play at an open mic event in Martinsville, VA. I knew it was going to be a challenge on a school night, but he seemed worth the lack of sleep I knew would be inevitable. I wanted to hang out with interesting people that evening, and he and his friends seemed like the right crowd.


He is an outstanding drummer and I truly had a lot of fun watching and listening to him play. We then hung out for a couple hours afterward...literally just driving around and talking. I felt like I was back in high school as there was such an innocence about spending time together with someone in that capacity. Nothing more, nothing less; just talking and enjoying the company of another.

I left around 2.30a...way, way later than I had intended. I was tired, a bit wired, and completely sober. I thought I was doing okay driving alone on the dark roads, when the sheer exhaustion just hit me shortly after 3a. I convinced myself to keep driving until 3.30a, and then stop somewhere for gas and a short walk. I opened up the sunroof, cranked the music, and kept going at a nice steady clip of about 90 MPH. This is the way I love to drive, and I felt damn good about it. Drive on.

It was about 3.17a when I must have fallen asleep. Not just a "snap your head back, eyes shut for a second" catnap, but a full-blown fast asleep while driving moment. I woke up as my car was entering a steep embankment and bouncing across the grass towards the guardrail. Snap awake, eyes open, loud noises, damn, damn, damn...Instinct kicks in. Faster pussycat. Yank steering wheel and veer from the rail immediatley on my right and back the opposite direction, Large sign inches in front of me. Grassy mound ahead of me and now the car begins to tilt. Damn, damn, damn. Pay attention pussycat. Pay some freaking attention. Snap back.

I honestly and terrifyingly thought my poor VW was going to flip. Grass, guardrail, sign, hill, metal. Grass, guardrail, sign, hill, metal. Road, where the freaking hell is the road???????? Control. Find the control pussycat. Get. Your. Shit. Together. Now.

Everything happened so fast. It was loud, and visual, and nauseating. As I finally came back onto the freeway, I literally threw the car in park and just sat and breathed. Perhaps hyperventilating is the better word. There were no lights or other cars anywhere in sight. I was certain I had hit the guardrail, as the noise was still reverberating in my head. I thought I should have a flat tire.  I could smell my brakes and the awful stench of rubber. I didn't think me or the car could drive. But we did. Drive pussycat. Drive to safety and figure out how f'd up you really are.


I don't know why I didn't just get out of the car there to inspect the damage. "Miss Instant Gratification" should have done so. I just needed to drive away from that spot. NOW. My hands were shaking, my heart was pounding and I was on the brink of tears. I could have been on four blown tires and I would have kept going.


My first thought? WTF am I going to tell Allstate? I had JUST gotten my vehicle back the week before after having side-swiped a parked Escalade and incurring $5000 worth of repairs. This damage was going to be on the same freaking side they JUST FIXED. Damn it, I am an idiot and now Allstate is going to know it.


As I pulled into the nearest gas station I contemplated who I could call. Who would want to hear from me at this ungodly hour if I were going to truly be stranded? Do I have any friends that would drive to Virginia to get me?


I walked around to the passenger side of the car to look at the mess I had made. I just stared. Shock and awe overtook me. I stood there under the bright fluorescent lights for what seemed like an hour. Then I cried. A shocking and sudden force of tears just rolled down my face. Stare. Cry. Moan. Hold it together pussycat.

There was not one scratch on my car. Not one freaking scratch. I had managed to narrowly miss the guardrail completely. I don't know how. I don't know the hell that was true. I could still HEAR myself, FEEL myself, SEE myself hit that damn guardrail. I could still feel the car try and flip. Apart from the massive amounts of grass and dirt I found in my wheel wells and stuck in my grill, you wouldn't know that I had just gone through the single most frightening moment of my life.


Something or someone is trying to tell me something. Slow down. Wake up. Reassess. Prioritize. Too many risks; not enough self-preservation. Second chances rarely roll into thirds.


Every time that singular moment of waking up pops into my head, I get cold. My heart starts pounding and I feel fear. Guardian Angel...you are screaming...and I hear you loud and clear. Pull it together pussycat.

The Writing on the Wall

Yesterday was all about disclosure...whether on the Facebook wall or on my wrist. Yep, I finally succumbed to my desire to ink my skin. I'd considered it for awhile, and now just seemed right. This is my year for doing things my way, the right way, at the right time...

"The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed". It's the first line of The Gunslinger, the first volume of the epic journey that Roland Deschain travels in the Dark Tower series. The book made a lasting impression on me the first time I read it, and that one line has continued to spin inside my head. There was simply no question that this was what needed to be on me.

In The Gunslinger, (as in Browning's poem, "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came"), there is a feeling of anxious meaninglessness coupled with an anxiety that nothing is stable or reliable.

"The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed". In the middle of an empty landscape filled with empty people, the Gunslinger has a purpose. He has direction. He is the last of his kind, and his mission gives him substance and holds his narrative world together. He is the glue at the center of things.
 
(I stole that perfectly worded interpretation from a Strange Horizon's blogger named David Higgins.)

So onto the fun stuff...my dear friends were there with me yesterday to help me endure the pain and to share in the moment. The postable quotes came fast and furious, and so we divided them up amongst the three of us. Here are just a few of the remarkable ones...there are many more that we didn't/couldn't post and so many others that we couldn't remember once the laughter and tears stopped.

• Carl: "Spontaneity should be something you can sleep off."
• Sean (my cute tattoo artist): "Those are dating rules to live by...open sores are never good."  
• Sean: "Don't worry about the shaking. I know the difference between voluntary and involuntary. Just stop thinking about it, or you'll shake more. And besides, I'm holding you down."
• Me: "I want to tell all the people, 'I am not a cutter'! Damn, I look like I spent some time in the ER after a fight with a razor blade."
• Brad: "Did you just feel the gay go by?" Me: "Oh yeah, I just felt the gay."
• Brad: "Was that the weight of her ass that just made your fork settle on the plate?"
• Me: "He's young. When he leaves me messages, he tells me to 'holla'." Brad: "Sweetie, you ain't no hollaback girl." 
• Carl: "Lordy, lol. I thought that was just between us and all of Glenwood South."
• Carl: "I just came into a cupcake inheritance. And it is good."
• Carl: "I feel so old."
• Me: Hahahaha...BTW, spellcheck wants hahahaha to be 'Haitians'.

And so I have direction. I have purpose. I have some anxious meaninglessness. I have a swollen and sore wrist. I also have a reminder of my purpose visually available to me at all times. And...I have written public documentation of the entertaining journey that got me there. 

Party of One, PLEASE!

So my intention today...no wait that was yesterday...was to start a Match Monday posting. Yeah, I am on match.com. Let my pride take the tremendous hit it deserves NOW. BAMN. Smack it, I am online dating.

I think I'm attractive. I know I am educated. I realize I have a fabulous job and a good life. I believe I am in good shape and am healthy. So.....yeah. I'm 37. Yep, not 27, but 37. And 37 turning into 38 in just a couple months. 

I met my first husband in a bar, so it seems right that I not repeat that one again. Yeah, we were married 15 years... but I expect that dating at 52 is even harder. I should probably try other avenues; hence the online dating thing.

I have always said that I love getting older. I am so much more confident and fabulous and with it and just plain more together, year-over-year. I like myself more at almost 38 than I ever did in any of those 20s. I do actually turn heads and get picked up on. BUT, there is that freaking damn NUMBER. You need to input that number into match.com and I am too proud to lie. I should lie. I might need to lie. Boys kind of freak when they learn that I am the almost 38. If I don't look it...why is it not a good thing? I am too young to be a cougar and I am not classically a MILF. So I am simply what...? Too old? Too young? Arghh.

So, I did not start Match Monday. That will have to wait until the calendar turns again next week. In the meantime, I was distracted by the census. Yes, I said the census. There is something about the archaic nature of "The Census must count every person living in the United States on April 1, 2010". Why archaic? BECAUSE THEY SENT IT IN THE MAIL AND IT HAS STANDARDIZED TEST BUBBLES. Actually it has boxes, but you get the point. MAIL!!! NOT INTERNET.


In 2010, the Census is not done online. it is mailed, (did they not hear the news about the USPS possibly needing to cut back hours or go bankrupt?????). Nothing online. And it is possible that you can add up to 12 people in your household. Now I love the census even more. Somehow, this mundane and ancient thing has made my day, There are those out there that get to fill out this amazing box-filled piece of paper for 12 people!!!!!! I am envious. I only get to do so for one. Me. One. Uno. It. Only I live here. Hmmmmmmm.....that is a good thing. It is okay to be one. 


Party of one. Add a corgi...still party of one. Eh, who cares? Party of one. 
I like my one box.