Yo. I feel like those lyrics are very fitting for my life, particularly at this point in time. I looked at my bank account the other day (I wouldn't have if not for the fact that my mother needed to know how much I had). It was not good. You know what else isn't good? Driving into houses. But I did that, too.
Don't look at me like that. You don't say to someone who has no idea what they're doing to drive out onto the street. Now, I pulled out just fine, and made the first turn. Buuuuuut, at the stoplight, when I turned, I accidentally kept turning, went over the curb, into the ditch, and bumped the house at the end of the ditch. It's not like I rammed into it and demolished the house. It's hard to do that at 3 miles per hour. But still. It was a horrifying experience. The guy who was teaching me got out and was talking to the owner of the house (who was really very nice and understanding. He wasn't angry at all) while I took the time to, very maturely, burst into hysterical tears and came to the conclusion that I will never learn how to drive, I fail at life, and will now take the bus/subway/taxi service/carpool to get places. If you've ever seen How I Met Your Mother, and know the episode where Ted tries to teach Barney to drive, that's scene crossed my mind every once in a while. If you don't know the scene, it's season two, episode 17, "Arrivederci, Fiero." It's towards the end. (Don't think I'm one of those freaky people who watches TV shows so much that she's memorized every second of every episode. I looked it up after my "incident" so that I could feel a little better.)
I'm quite sure that I'll look back at this and laugh. Shoot, I can laugh about it now. But seriously, the idea of getting behind the wheel again is terrifying. Why -- WHY -- would anybody in their right mind get into that death trap!? I know, I know. Overreaction much? Well, I can't help it. I had a friend once tell me that we fear what we don't know -- well guess what? I don't know how to drive, I don't know anything about driving, and yes, yes I do in fact fear it because I haven't got a single clue about it. Suddenly, the whole NCC job doesn't sound so bad. That's easy. That doesn't cause death. (Well, it may cause me to have a stroke, but you can live after a stroke.) But I'm so much better at learning things that require brain power; not things that require multi-tasking and paying attention to the things around me. I'm too easily distracted. I'd be one of the insane people who drives off the seawall, completely sober and in broad daylight. I'd have been distracted either by some seagull, or worse yet, by trying to be a good driver and checking my mirrors and other parts of my car.
I've known a few people who were taught how to drive by their eventual significant other. An elderly woman I knew had a crush on who would become her husband, and he taught her to drive. She drove his car into a fire hydrant. My mom's friend did something, but I don't remember what. I just know it was about as great as my thing. And let's not forget the Disney movie Cow Bells, where the cute cowboy tries teaching Alyson Michalka's character to drive stick, and his truck rolls down into the lake. Firstly, the guy teaching me is like, thirty years older than me, so that'd be a negatory anyway. But if the guy I liked taught me how to drive? Dude, I'm nervous enough when I get behind the wheel. Why add that kind of pressure?? I'd wind up either melting into a puddle, or actually driving through a house -- most likely with his car -- and after that I'd ask him to pretend he didn't know me so I could slip under a rock and never come out again. If nothing else, I'd no doubt wreck and burst into hysterical tears. And I'm not one of those cute girls when I cry, like you see in the movies (who also mysteriously wake up with perfect hair. When I wake up, my hair's in all different directions!). No. No, I look like a train wreck. Tears, snot, and -- depending on how upset I am -- drool: everywhere! I look like some sort of red, puffy, snot monster. Let alone the fact that men are not readily equipped to deal with sobbing women -- heck, I can barely handle it when a girl I know starts crying. I've gotten better, but I also had a lot of experience the past year with girls crying at random. It would not be a pleasant experience for anyone involved.
What was my point to this again? I seriously have no idea. Um...well...I had a good dream last night! And yesterday wasn't so bad. Today was pretty good (except for the brief period this afternoon when I felt ill). So, hopefully this week is picking up. Here's to staying ducky and lucky. (And red, puffy, snot monster-y free.)
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