Sunday, April 11, 2010

Falling On My Head Like a Memory*

(Pre-Script: This post will drive you crazy when read as the song, "Keep Breathing," #60 on the play list, plays in the background. Go down to the play list, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

I am driving on a up a windy hill between two cities. On either side of me are dense trees and traffic. In front of me is a winding road which is sketchy even in the calmest weather. It is more so on a day like today, with rain slamming down on my windshield like a reality check from Tulsa, Oklahoma:"You are not in your head, you are on a windy road, HWY 17, among dense trees, climbing a hill between two cities. Pay attention."
When I walked out of the house this morning, It was just sprinkling. I remember feeling smug as I closed the door behind me. The smug feeling was probably because of something I had said. My inner psychoanalyst was concerned about it. "Michelle, You are Arrogant" She chided. I listened without argument

I have been told that my driving is scary, that I drive "like a girl." I have been told that I handle a minivan "Like a Nascar driver. You are totally in control." I am totally in control.

I am in control of this car, and today, I look cute in this car.

I am just not in control of the weather, the windy road, and all the other cars around me. At the summit, there sits a police car with his lights blinking. He is sitting there like that to warn us. Pay Attention. Take it serious. Take it seriously ENOUGH. All of the cars around me slow down. We are paying attention. We are heeding your warning. We always only drive 55, yes sir, Mr Officer, Protector Of The Peace. We respect your long arm of The Law.

More Rain hits the windshield. The problem is i can really only control so little. the problem is i am not in control at all. the whole dang hill could collapse on me right now, and no one would care how diligently I kept my hands on the 10 and 2 spots on the steering wheel, how perfect was my day vision, how sharp were my reflexes. The hill could slide down in an incredible mud slide, and no one will ever see how cute my hair is this morning.

I ease up on the breaks and watch my speed. I watch the cars in front of and next to me. Sometimes I glance at the trees. If I were stuck in those trees alone with no way out, I would have no idea which ones to burn for firewood, which to eat the berries off of, which to not eat the berries off of or they would give me a rash or kill me. I sing along to the song on the radio.

My Inner psychoanalyst made that one statement in my head before I had driven anywhere today, and has let it sit there, ringing back and forth across my skull as I navigate this wetness. I do not try to fight her. She is right; I am arrogant.
Sometimes I do say the aggressive thing in a not Passive Aggressive, "oops, I didn't really mean it like that," way, but in an Aggressive Aggressive, "yes, what you heard is what I said" way. But the thing is, I think that the most arrogant people are the ones who swear they never are.

I put myself in this car and started driving with the assumption that my breaks won't give out. What kind of a crazy person gets into a car having made that sort of assumption?? A crazy kind of crazy person, that's who. The road winds on and on, the reality checks keep pummeling me, and this road winds precariously left and right, but always forward.

I am driving in the rain with limited visibility. I am driving over a hill between two cities.


*Annie Lennox said it first.

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