Oh Blah Di, Oh Blah Dah...

Life goes on... not because you neccesarily want it to, but because it has to.

Monday morning, much like many other Monday mornings, I decided I'd drive to work to save time and make my morning a little easier. I pulled out of the alley onto Hyde Park Blvd, like I've done several times in the past, when.

all of a sudden.

out of nowhere.

really surprising thing happened.

I got hit by one of those flatbed eighteen wheeler trucks... took the front end of my car off... dragged me down the street a bit... it was amazingly not as scary (during the actual event) as I thought it would be.

I guess I was caught between the "OH SHIT!" of the impact and the "WOW!" of watching about $14,000 worth of purchase get ripped to pieces right in front of me. Good thing I drove a Volvo... if it was a Civic, I might be typing this from the hospital.

So my car was wrecked... hey, shit happens, right? Well, apparently my driver's licence had been suspended, so once they figured out they didn't have to take me to the hospital, they took me to jail.

I guess this is about when I stopped really worrying about my situation and slipped into this maniacal haze... my thoughts started teetering so far left of absurd that I began to find large amounts of humor in my predicament.

Some of my thoughts from jail:
-"Man, if I don't show up at work today, does this count as a Sick Day or a Personal Day? Because they need to have "Holyfuckingshit THAT happened to you?!?" Days for personal catastrophes like this"

-"I wonder how many cigarettes and candy bars I'm worth?"

-"Next time, fuck the trailer, aim for the tractor."

-"This has GOTTA get me some sympathy beat, I mean, I tell a chick I've been in jail AND I wrecked my car she's gonna be more than obliged to sleep with me."

That's about what I can remember.

Long story short, after getting shaken down for about $350 by the City Of Chicago, I got to take my car to the dealership.

Now, let me explain something, I always get funny looks when I take my car to the Volvo dealer... somehow, I don't fit the white suburban soccer mom profile that predominates the waiting area at Howard Orloff... but Monday, the real highlight was hopping out of the tow truck with my vehicular carnage strapped to the back as I calmly strolled to the service area and asked them for an oil change and to reset my clock. I got a genuine laugh off that one. The ladies of the Junior League also took special notice of my City Of Chicago 29th Precinct wristband... The hits just kept on coming.

After a morning like that, there's only one place that once could go to feel halfway normal, sane, and safe and that was work. I went because I just didn't know what else to do... but it was therapeutic, for a while, to have other shit to worry about.

Day turns to night, night turns to new problems...

The anxiety of the day finally caught up with me and the thought of having to hash out the details of my day, alone, was daunting. Everytime I closed my eyes I'd replay the accident in my head and that moment of impact kept jarring me out of my comfort. I didn't know who to call, I didn't know who I could really turn to without seeming like I was losing it (which, for a little while I was)... I called my ex, I just needed some company and we're still cool. Quietly, I still care about her, and I think she feels the same way about me. Or at least I thought so.

She told me she couldn't come see me because she was seeing someone esle, seriously. Of course, this is after I'd been acting in the role of handy-man/do-boy for her. So I was taken back by her statements. Honestly, for the past two days I've been quite angry at her about it and I don't know why (I do, but I'm not going to say it here)... It was a fine ending to a shitty day.

But that's no longer the here nor there.

I guess if you've read this far down, you're waiting for the punchline... well, there isn't one per se as much as there are some fine observations that I've gleaned from this week.

The first being that above all else, being alive is the shit. A few seconds too early on that turn and someone might've been planning my memorial services. Hey, shit sucks right now, but this is temporary and in a month or so, I'll be doing much better... Death, well, ain't no coming back from that.

The second thing I've learned from this is what I knew all along and that's the fact that I am alone and that means I can't depend on anyone else to take care of me except me... I'm on an island and no one else is responsible for me and I cannot rely on the favors I grant to be returned when I need them. In a sense, fuck people, when you need them they will probably be busy dealing with their own problems.

The third thing is that, Volvos are damn good cars. I went head up with an 18 Wheeler and I'm no worse for the wear... I'll probably never buy another car that's not a Volvo, unless it's a tank.

and the last thing:

If you don't have sense enough to laugh at yourself, you have no right to laugh at anything... Dammit if that shit didn't give me a good chuckle at least three or four times this week. If I couldn't or didn't laugh at this whole thing, I'm afraid I'd break down and lose it.

oh, and one more thing.

My momma loves me.