I have absolutely no time to really think (at least in any kind of depth) about anything other than my five up coming midterms. My brain is currently at new info capacity and regurgitation ability overload....
But, sweet Annie requested a blog from me, actually wrote on my facebook wall "Girl I'm gonna need you to blog soon"
She is officially the president of the Deb Does Life fan club.
So here goes girlfriend, this one is for you.
I will admit it,(sigh) I should not possess a drivers license. I am quite possibly the worst driver in the world, it is a form of community service to admit this in a public forum. Count yourself lucky if you read this and if you live near me, identify my vehicle so you can avoid it at all cost. Mine is the dented blue 4-runner littered with DMB stickers, my plate reads B2FLMS (translation beautiful mess, did anyone at all get that without my help?)
Here's the thing, it's not that I am a bad driver necessarily, it's more like I should be a restricted driver. It's my opinion that when the joyous DMV employees ask about my eyesight and make me peer through the little eye thingy to make sure I can distinguish red from green, they may also want to test my ears. Just sayin' that it wouldn't hurt for them to stick me in a sound booth with some Mary J. Blige and simulate my vehicles actual atmosphere. The music would have to be jacked up to ungodly decibels and the winter and summer scenario would be different too, leg up in the summer and windows down for sure, you have to account for body posture and wind.
The only reason I recommend this form of drivers simulation is because I am what is known as (in our circle) a car dancer...
If you don't know what this is, you surely have never been stopped at a red light next to me....
It is a form of exotic dancing but restricted to the tin can of a car. What categorizes car dancing as exotic is not a pole or removal of any clothing (although that sometimes occurs), it is exotic in essence because it simply cannot be prevented. The music is up, the car is flying down the road at will of your fingertips and toes, and the world's outside interference is nil.
These are the ingredients to a spontaneous car dance, it just cannot be helped.
This is where the danger comes in.
As in regular dancing, there are levels, styles, nuances. I am without a doubt a dancer by nature. I hear the music and I begin to move. Starts at my head, moves to my neck radiates down to the hips yadayada. I can't help it, the music gets to me. Some people listen to music and remain calm, this is not me.
Music is intended to move you and I was intended to express. It gets fairly beautifully ugly.
For example....,
Today I was listening to Justin Nozuka as I drove home from school, I was singing along quite calmly watching the yellow lines and the oncoming traffic intently, everything was just fine. I was safe and so were you.
But then, this song came on, ripe with angst, passion and a fevered repetition of sounds which builds into a whipped up frenzy.
Spontaneous car dance eruption....
Before I knew it I was clutching my own neck, pulling at my hair and desperately harmonizing with Justin. I was in a full blown ecstatic moment, safety be damned....
Keeping in line with my life's theme, it is bad news and a real thing of beauty all rolled up in one.
I plead guilty of car dancing and have given you all fair warning of my reckless behavior, beyond that I got nothing.
After all, it's not my fault that I have a drivers license, first thing the instructor did upon entering my car for my driving test was turn off my radio. Stupid stupid stupid little man with a clipboard...
If I worked at the Department of Motor Vehicles, I would re-write the registration application...
Do you wear glasses?
Do you have a medical condition?
Do you have a disco ball in your car?
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