philosophy at age eight

“If you cannot control your peanut butter, you cannot expect to control your life.”
~ Judah-ism

Thursday, June 4, 2009

bad truck

Was sent flying about 5-6 feet before doing the tumbleweed act by a (may I say it) huge truck whose driver didn't see me crossing the crosswalk last night during rush hour.

This was downtown Seattle, absolutely packed with pedestrians--one way streets and paranoia abound. The driver was new to the city, unfortunately for me. The painful end of my short flight saw me sprawled on the sidewalk--my original destination, success! At least I was jogging and was knocked violently away from the vehicle, rather than going over it or under it.

Also, I managed not to hit my head at all, just my upper thigh (bumper) and shoulder (grill? lights? Ask someone else, it's a blur.) So though it's nice not to be in a coma or anything, I sort of regretted being conscious for the humiliation of being physically held down to the ground--"No! Don't move, miss!"--by pedestrians, then EMTs and police once they hit the scene, and all in front of my co-workers who got off just in time to witness my undignified take-down.

I am Jill's effusive tear-ducts.

My life didn't flash before my eyes or anything, not even while I was waiting to hit ground. It was just a confused jumble of flashes--streetposts at odd angles, bits of leafy greens and sky, sidewalk--but no flashbacks. I take this to mean I have no regrets. :)

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