Tag Archives: truck

Whole Myth

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I’m still learning what owning a vehicle in the state of MA means since I haven’t even had it for a a year yet. I got the truck last September and it’s about the time where you get another insurance quote I guess. I asked my dad about what I need to do when September rolls around (things with stickers and whatever) and he asked me how long I’ve had the truck.

“Two years?”

“No, a year in September.”

I was about to write it off as a “You’re getting old, Dad.” moment when it occurred to me that a lot has happened since September, when I got the truck, and the end of November when I returned to Massachusetts from Virgina. I’m not sure how much more my life could have turned around.

And it’s not done turning, even now things are spinning. There is control in this rotation, but a constant honing is happening as I try to round out my life in all its ways.

My recent undertaking is completely cliche- more so than the career switch job search thing. I’m working in an office I drive to and I need to find a way to stay healthy.

For the company meeting we went to the White Mountains in New Hampshire. This was a couple weekends ago and a ton of fun. While there me and my guest took on a portion of the Appalachian trail. We didn’t have hiking shoes, never mind any other gear, but why not? We’re young and able.

That’s how I know I’ve moved from the category of young and able to young and out of shape.

Just last summer I had calves of steel. I walked probably about ten to twenty miles a day for my job and then I had no car to boot. My body and I were friends, even if I wore a less than flattering L. L. Bean polo to make it so.

Now I spend so much time using mental and social skills, and becoming tired doing so, that I forget about the rest of me. I’ve very satisfied with the challenges and the days go by fast, but where is the time and motivation when that ends to excise the rest of me?

I recently purchased a Wii and have a Wii Fit to boot. I figure if I can trick myself into thinking it’s a video game, I’ll exercise. Truth be told, it is working, but I’m starting to think it’s not enough. It can’t replace all of those miles I used to walk by a long shot.

So now I have to figure something out. I could take up some fun outdoor activities I love. It’d be nice to play paint ball again. Most of the things I can come up with are group activities which I don’t have a group for. Adding a social aspect to it makes it even less appealing. Remember my attempts to start roleplaying again? I just wanted to roleplay, but people got in the way. I don’t want to leave this in the hands of other people, so that kind of rules out sports and other group exercise. I’m kind of back to square one with virtual fitness.

I’m sure I’ll figure this all out. As each part of my life falls into place, things have an adjustment period. Once they become easier, then you can add on something else to make your life more fulfilling until one day maybe things feel whole. I wonder and suppose that feeling completely whole might just be a myth. But they say it’s about the journey. It doesn’t stop me from pursuing and striving. And I’m happy, proud, and much more satisfied than I have been in a long time as a result.

Jogging me Crazy

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Sometimes people and things think and act like they’re something they’re not. A dog thinks it’s a cat. A worrier acts like it’s cool. Bicyclists think they’re cars, but not ones that have to obey traffic signals.

In Southern MA today, joggers thought they were cars. There was no marathon for money or a race or anything. A few people in a little place known as Northbridge, MA just decided to jog in the main road going through the town. Sure, this is a small town, but it is the road that leads to the closest huge ass Walmart).

You might think to yourself that this is happening because many of these little towns have no sidewalks. This area, however, sported what appeared to be excellent sidewalks. I mean, they looked like they were functional. I didn’t try them out myself since I was in my truck. That would be a bit inappropriate, to use a sidewalk while in a truck. It would be about as inappropriate as say pedestrians jogging in the road.

So, why then would these pedestrians so take their lives into their own hands? It occurs to me that the confusion might stem from the word sidewalk. These suburbanites in their jogging gear, sunglasses, and caps might have thought they would offend the sidewalk’s sensibilities if they were to run on it instead of walk upon it. It would be as big a crime as if someone had walked on the ‘do not walk on the grass’ greenery, or loitered in front of the ‘no loitering sign’. A life of crime like that just isn’t worth it. It’s better to put your safety on the line and wiggle your tight toosh in front of my Ford F150.
world class track meet NES power pad

And let’s not offend any bicyclists by jogging in their little lane. No, let’s go out a bit in case *they* need to get by.

Yes, let us burn off our carbs, jogging two abreast, in the middle of the main road.

It’s okay if the cars and trucks need to go around us, over the yellow line. I’m sure the cars coming the other way won’t mind.

What? You think we should step up on the sidewalk so vehicles can go around?

Hey! We have rights. You ever hear of a little thing called the Constitution? You know the amendment that protects our right to be assholes? This is America, damn it!

Meanwhile, people like me wonder why these joggers can’t just stay home, hook up the power pad to their Nintendo Entertainment Center, and play World Class Track Meet.

Dreams: Busy Night

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It’s no wonder I don’t feel rested sometimes- and this is only the stuff I can remember!

—–

I’m dragged out of bed by my dad while I’m still sleeping. I’m so tired that I can’t hear anything for the first several minutes. Dad pushes me out the door. I have no socks or shoes on and no bra. Dad lets me buy shoes on the way to where we’re going, but not a bra. We stop at a convenience store and he goes to the clerk pay.

“Why do you need a bra? You look fine!”

Scoff.

“I don’t care how I look. I need support,” I look at the clerk, “Am I right?”

“She’s right, you know,” agrees the clerk.

I’m at a friend’s house now. She lets me borrow socks and a red bra. It’s late afternoon. There’s a hooking-up and dating BBS she wants us to try. I told her I thought of trying it once with a two mutual friends of ours, but I chickened out.

“Nevermind,” she says and goes to finish doing the dishes.

I stop her and tell her I’ll think about it. She smiles and asks me what’s different about this time. I tell her that I think it would be okay if I was with people I trust and I trust her. I also start to tell her about something that happened this past summer, but she gets excited and runs off to hurry up her house work. I’m on the fence, but if I’m with her and out mutual two friends, It’ll be fine. When the desktop PC finishes loading I dial the BBS. She logs in on her account. As we start to look through the profiles of groups of people I start to get excited. It has brief descriptions, sometimes pictures, of who they are, what they’re looking for, and interests. Finally we settle on one we both feel good about and know our friends ill be too. The group consists of Asian American 20-somethings who in general like Asian food, video games, and anime. My friend registers us as interested and describes our group. We’re given a time and place to meet today. We get ready, call our friends, and head out.

There is more than one group that was interested in the one we picked, so there is a foot-race to determine who gets the chance to meet them. I run as fast as I can and finish in a decent place, but most of my group is slow, so we lose. I’m sort of disappointed but figure we can just go back to her apartment, log in, and find another group. My friend tells me it’s too late in the day and the Board will be closed by the time we get back. I didn’t know it had hours. It’s a new thing, I’m told.

The next day I have to drive into town to attend a thing for my old high school. The event is in a very large auditorium. The people attending don’t even take up half of it. The proceedings are long and boring and I can’t pay attention. I start playing with a rubber band. I play with it simply at first, then hook it onto the ceiling and start using it to bounce and do aerobic tricks. I realize I should probably stop before someone notices. It’s with that thought, while in a back flip, I get tangled up in the rubber band. I can see how I can untangle myself, but I think the rubber band will snap. I’m worried it will fly at someone and poke their eye out. I do it and it doesn’t hit anyone. I end up spinning a bunch and get very disoriented and sick (like merry-go-round meets cliff-face vertigo). I crouch down to keep a low profile and crawl to where my old high school classmates are seated. I see a guy I used to know and go to sit by him. He helps me into my seat, probably thinking I’m drunk even though I explain. I’m suddenly reminded that I have a form that someone at this presentation has to sign to prove that I attended. I ask him if he could, give him the form, and show him which check boxes to check and where to sign. I lean over to point and he starts groping me. I push away, but my balance is still off and I stumble into the isle. He catches me, help me up (still groping), and helps me into a seat. He checks the wrong boxes on the form as blackmail. I say screw this and leave.

I have one more errand to get done today. I’m going to be early. According to an email it’s voluntary extra work day at the children’s museum I used to work at. I’m hoping to see some friendly faces and earn some brownie points- who knows- land a new job. I go to the front desk where my old supervisor is. She is busy talking to someone, but stops to introduce me. She says she’ll be right with us to start soon, but meanwhile I could fix up my finger nails. She thinks it’s important and there is a bin across the room full of nail polish. I look at my nails and they are worn at the tips- black with a clear coat of silver sparkles on top. I look through a bin with another girl who I start talking to. I tell her whose job I used to have. She says she likes my cow shaped purse. I open in and show her a cow shaped coin purse inside that says “moo-lah” on it. She says she has a friend who collects those. I tell her that I didn’t know they were collectible and I got it from my aunt on my birthday. She tells me she wishes I still worked here because I seem so nice and friendly. I thank her for the compliment and wish I had thought to grab food before I came.

While working we find a bunny outside. It’s not a wild one, but someone’s lost or abandoned pet. It’s big, tan and white in the belly and I pet it until it trusts me. Then I try to put it in a cage and it freaks out. I catch it again and put it in my truck where my cat is in his carrier.

It’s late when I get done. I’m driving on a rural road banked by trees. A large truck hauling logs comes up the road towards me and I realize he’s on the wrong side of the road. I try to go to the left, but still get hit on the right side, flipping my truck over. I’m okay. I check my bunny and cat. The cat seems fine, but my new bunny is dead. I call 911 with my cell phone and say what happened and where I am roughly. I tell them I don’t know if I’m hurt, my shoulder and knee don’t feel too good. I’m angry and say,

“That driver must have been drunk, because no one is that dumb.”

They tell me to get out of the truck and off the road. I take kitty with me. I go to take the dead bunny, but realize it doesn’t matter. The police and ambulance arrive. They drill me with questions about what happened until Mr. Gruff Driving a Logging Truck fails his breathalyser. The ambulence crew wants to put me on one of those stiff boards in case I have a neck injury. I tell them my neck is fine and I’ve been walking and bending it for twenty minutes. They still want to and I tell them no way am I getting in one of those things. Last time I was in one, I was left in one for a few hours. I saw my sister lay in one for two. My shoulder and knee hurt and it will make them hurt more. And my bunny is dead and I’m pissed. I ask the police if they think the driver will have to pay for the vet bill when I get my cat checked out. I ask them if I can sue for hurting me, my cat, and killing my bunny.