Accident

I almost died today.

We’re having 60 MPH wind and sleet here in the Midwest and my poor car, Pete, does not handle that combo well.

I was going around the curve of a highway on-ramp when my car suddenly got caught in a nasty tailspin. I rotated 360 degrees three times before careening into a ditch. Facing traffic (so the wrong direction).

Through some divine intervention of the universe, I’ve managed to avoid the numerous poles that line either side of the road. But I can’t get my car out of the ditch.

Then a couple of good Samaritans pull over in a large boxy white truck. I am on edge at first when I see they’re grungy white trash looking men. But they sweetly ask if I’m all right and offer to help push me out of the ditch.

Their efforts are successful.

I’m still out out of it and very nervous about driving again (I already asked for assistance to get to work tomorrow).

But I am thankful for kind hearted people who stop and helped a terrified girl get her bearings again.

Windchimes

Windchimes has been a codeword used by us, our system, and friends for over a decade now. It’s always been a serious sort of warning, a secret in-crowd sort of all-encompassing “there is danger ahead, check yourself”.

It was written on the inside of my car’s windshield tonight.

I don’t know how long it’s been there. It’s writen in the thin layer of smudgey grime that’s built up on my windshield since the thorough cleaning I gave it back in April. Because of this, the word is only truly visible at night when it’s hit just right by a streetlight or passing car’s headlights.

This is the first evening I’ve driven since last week. It could have been scrawled at any time over the past couple days.

I also have no idea what it’s referring to. My job? My health? Internal (switchy-type) stuff? I dunno.

I just know that when I think about it, I get this scary sinking feeling in my stomach.

And no one is fessing up.

Windchimes. A warning. A serious warning. I know none of my system would ever use that codeword as a joke.

But a warning for what?

Fiona Apple

I was actually exposed to Fiona Apple in a weird way.

I thought she sang the song “Ugly Girl”; a guilty pleasure of mine that I associated with an ex, and him dumping us for someone supposedly not as pretty (according to others- we never trust our own opinion on what is beauty).

I already purchased a couple of her albums before I realized that the song “Ugly Gil” is in fact sung by Fleming and John (if you Google the song though, a LOT of people think it’s Fiona Apple).

Too late. I was addicted to the haunting melody and husky sort of voice quality that Ms. Apple has.

Today one of my favorites, “Paper Bag”, came on our iPod while driving to work.  I was technically out, but the lyrics of the song struck everyone pretty personally.

I thought it might be nice to share it.  Plus, everyone should check her out anyway.
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Paper Bag

I was staring at the sky, just looking for a star
To pray on, or wish on, or something like that
I was having a sweet fix of a daydream of a boy
Whose reality I knew, was a hopeless to be had

But then the dove of hope began its downward slope
And I believed for a moment that my chances
Were approaching to be grabbed
But as it came down near, so did a weary tear
I thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag

Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
‘Cause I know I’m a mess he don’t wanna clean up
I got to fold ’cause these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love

And I went crazy again today, looking for a strand to climb
Looking for a little hope
Baby said he couldn’t stay, wouldn’t put his lips to mine,
And a fail to kiss is a fail to cope
I said, ‘Honey, I don’t feel so good, don’t feel justified”
“Come on put a little love here in my void,’ he said, ‘It’s all in your head’
And I said, ‘So’s everything’
But he didn’t get it

I thought he was a man
But he was just a little boy

Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
‘Cause I know I’m a mess he don’t wanna clean up
I got to fold ’cause these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love
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