So, I have been at work for the whole time of 2 months. Yes, not very long to be at the new job, and already, I am having slight concerns/anxiety attacks. We all know that the balance of too much or too little is a very delicate balance, especially in regards to work. If we have too much work, well, life just isn't very fun now is it. Working all day and all night, and every time in between. (oddly enough, I seem happier there.) Too little and, well I guess this depends on the individual, but I get a little worried. I wonder if there is enough to justify my salary, or me being an employee, or for that matter, is this a sign for me to start looking for a new job.
I do understand that life in the legal field is, well as far as I can tell, completely different than any other field I have been associated with or known about, yet I am sure that there are some basic things that are just the way humans function. However, I find myself in the position of having to ask my boss (I haven't posted where I work have I? ugghhhh!!) regularly, almost every day or two, for more work. I like to pat myself on the back and say that I work more efficiently than he expects, but in reality, that excuse only goes so far.
So, this begs the question, and opens for responses...what do you do? Are there ways to talk with your boss about the work flow and getting more work without being annoying? How do you comfortably suggest that he may not be doing the best job at managing or assigning work? Or should I just leave it as is?
Regardless, this has spurred on the fear/drive/desire to really start looking into bringing in more clientèle. After all, if he isn't going to give me as much work as I would like, than I may as well bring it in myself...now I just have to find that rock that all the clients who need a lawyer are hiding under.
Showing posts with label responsibility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label responsibility. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Visiting Disclosures!
So, I had some childhood friends and their spouses "pop" by for a visit the other day, and it was really good to see them, but in conversation with my fellow co-blogger, and in getting my panties in a ruffle over seemingly small and infinitesimal lapses in communication, I thought, what do you need to do in order for a visit to go smoothly?
Well, first and foremost, I think you need to say when you are coming. To say that you are coming for a visit could mean between now and the next decade, or post death. I don't know, but sometimes I have horrible nightmares about the dead coming to visit, and I don't want you to worry about fulfilling your promise to come visit me and risk me having a heart attack after seeing you in your ghoulish form.
Second, one needs to state who is coming. This can be interesting, problematic, and something I always took for granted. Who comes by and doesn't say who is coming by. Is it you? You and your spouse? You and fifty friends? If you tend to walk around in your underwear, or maybe with a facial mask on so you look like a blue alien, it would be nice to know that your kindest, sweetest most loving closest friend who has seen you like that and worse a million times is bringing by her brand new beau and the beau's really cute friend. After all, do you want to have to have a follow-up conversation disclaiming "I don't always look like a blue alien, and that holey, stained and discolored underwear fraying at the edges wasn't really left behind or stolen from my ex beau, that was just a funny little joke...ha ha." Bleh...that was horrible even typing it!
It is also important to inform the person you are visiting, what you are bringing with you. "What" should be interpreted as broadly as possible. In other words, you should also include if you are bringing any pets, mutants, deaf dumb or blind relatives who you think are insignificant, not impositional, or follow you around so much that you forget they are there. Also disclose any noxious gasses, influenzas or other sicknesses, lice, mice, fleas, and other small little critters which may decide to follow you or your famous "X" around despite your best efforts. I won't get into what needs to be disclosed or brought when visiting for a specific event, i.e. dinner, birthday, manage e trois, etcetera etcetera etcetera, but that should all be disclosed when coming for a visit.
Next, any and all desires should comfortably, without imposition, and almost begging, be clearly enunciated. This can include, "I would love to see your photo," to "would you play me your new song," all the way to "Can we roll around in the grass and stuff ice cubes down each others shorts so we look like we wet our pants?" Obviously there is give and take, with a touch of flexibility rolled into every visit and interaction. But if you know ahead of time that you would like something or to do something, aka can I sleep over? to I want to see X movie should be given a fair warning, or at a minimum no depression, complaining or infringement upon relations due to an inability or desire to fulfill said requests, demands or desires.
Lastly, alterations and changes to the planned visit should be communicated as quickly as possible, or at a minimum, before you are departing to arrive at said meeting place. The reason is, you may not know how your changes or alterations affect the other person. Although it may be something as minuscule as "I decided to wear my blue shirt instead of the yellow one." What if your dearest closest friend was counting on you to wear the yellow one because you have the exact same shirt in blue, and she is wearing the blue one. Might be a bit silly don't you think? It could also be as significant as "I feel ugly, fat and depressed and don't want to see anyone else by you," after you've decided autonomously that bringing along a new friend was just a peachy idea. So communicate everything you know as soon as you know it, after all, you are all friends.
Alas, that should make for a comfortable visit with even the most tenuous of relationships. Visit long, visit often, and make sure you disclose.
Well, first and foremost, I think you need to say when you are coming. To say that you are coming for a visit could mean between now and the next decade, or post death. I don't know, but sometimes I have horrible nightmares about the dead coming to visit, and I don't want you to worry about fulfilling your promise to come visit me and risk me having a heart attack after seeing you in your ghoulish form.
Second, one needs to state who is coming. This can be interesting, problematic, and something I always took for granted. Who comes by and doesn't say who is coming by. Is it you? You and your spouse? You and fifty friends? If you tend to walk around in your underwear, or maybe with a facial mask on so you look like a blue alien, it would be nice to know that your kindest, sweetest most loving closest friend who has seen you like that and worse a million times is bringing by her brand new beau and the beau's really cute friend. After all, do you want to have to have a follow-up conversation disclaiming "I don't always look like a blue alien, and that holey, stained and discolored underwear fraying at the edges wasn't really left behind or stolen from my ex beau, that was just a funny little joke...ha ha." Bleh...that was horrible even typing it!
It is also important to inform the person you are visiting, what you are bringing with you. "What" should be interpreted as broadly as possible. In other words, you should also include if you are bringing any pets, mutants, deaf dumb or blind relatives who you think are insignificant, not impositional, or follow you around so much that you forget they are there. Also disclose any noxious gasses, influenzas or other sicknesses, lice, mice, fleas, and other small little critters which may decide to follow you or your famous "X" around despite your best efforts. I won't get into what needs to be disclosed or brought when visiting for a specific event, i.e. dinner, birthday, manage e trois, etcetera etcetera etcetera, but that should all be disclosed when coming for a visit.
Next, any and all desires should comfortably, without imposition, and almost begging, be clearly enunciated. This can include, "I would love to see your photo," to "would you play me your new song," all the way to "Can we roll around in the grass and stuff ice cubes down each others shorts so we look like we wet our pants?" Obviously there is give and take, with a touch of flexibility rolled into every visit and interaction. But if you know ahead of time that you would like something or to do something, aka can I sleep over? to I want to see X movie should be given a fair warning, or at a minimum no depression, complaining or infringement upon relations due to an inability or desire to fulfill said requests, demands or desires.
Lastly, alterations and changes to the planned visit should be communicated as quickly as possible, or at a minimum, before you are departing to arrive at said meeting place. The reason is, you may not know how your changes or alterations affect the other person. Although it may be something as minuscule as "I decided to wear my blue shirt instead of the yellow one." What if your dearest closest friend was counting on you to wear the yellow one because you have the exact same shirt in blue, and she is wearing the blue one. Might be a bit silly don't you think? It could also be as significant as "I feel ugly, fat and depressed and don't want to see anyone else by you," after you've decided autonomously that bringing along a new friend was just a peachy idea. So communicate everything you know as soon as you know it, after all, you are all friends.
Alas, that should make for a comfortable visit with even the most tenuous of relationships. Visit long, visit often, and make sure you disclose.
Monday, June 25, 2007
The Golden Snitch
What is the Golden Snitch? Or for that matter, who is the golden snitch? After receiving a rather late phone call the other day from a dear sweet friend of undefinable relation, I wondered to myself am I their golden snitch?
In the game of Quidditch, you can bust your butt the whole game long, dodging bludgers, blocking quaffles, but without the golden snitch, good luck winning.
This dear sweet relation prone to late night phone calls is raising teenagers, who I happen to be in the rather unassuming yet comfortable position of having befriended, enjoying their company, and seem to be more so of a confidant, wise in the ways of dark, sinful and exploratory life. What better tease is there for teenagers. I feel like I am going after Hansel and Grettel.
Anyways, I delay. So, the phone call consists of, "Hi", "How are you?", "Has our teenager ever talked to you about ...."
Now, my initial response to this was, "Oh, no you didn't!" (say that in your head with some sort of urbanesque dropping of important letters and syllables, with a hand up, and that awkward yet attitude demonstrating pose of getting in someone's face!) Of course, I didn't say that, but I thought to myself, how do I answer this oh so assuming and yet very invasive question?
These questions were then followed up with questions of my personal habits or behaviors, which I was also none to thrilled about. In the end, I felt like an abused step child, beaten until I could scream no more. They gave me the truth serum, and I fought it as best I could. (mind you, plausible deniability is a wonderful thing, even in situations dealing with those of undefinable relation!!) So, the "yes we talked about it, but I don't remember anything specific or earth shattering, was a wonderful statement (it happened to also be the truth! Hallelujah for bad memories!)
Am I the golden snitch? Do I want to be the golden snitch? Are they crazy and mean for putting me in the snitch position at all? I am sure anyone who is a parent is dying to have a golden snitch, but doesn't that betray all likelihood of friendship? I guess if there was something desperately wrong, but I would probably be the instigator of the conversation in that respect than otherwise.
Is the golden snitch really the key to the game? Or in the end, do you just have to say "Oh, no you didn't!"
In the game of Quidditch, you can bust your butt the whole game long, dodging bludgers, blocking quaffles, but without the golden snitch, good luck winning.
This dear sweet relation prone to late night phone calls is raising teenagers, who I happen to be in the rather unassuming yet comfortable position of having befriended, enjoying their company, and seem to be more so of a confidant, wise in the ways of dark, sinful and exploratory life. What better tease is there for teenagers. I feel like I am going after Hansel and Grettel.
Anyways, I delay. So, the phone call consists of, "Hi", "How are you?", "Has our teenager ever talked to you about ...."
Now, my initial response to this was, "Oh, no you didn't!" (say that in your head with some sort of urbanesque dropping of important letters and syllables, with a hand up, and that awkward yet attitude demonstrating pose of getting in someone's face!) Of course, I didn't say that, but I thought to myself, how do I answer this oh so assuming and yet very invasive question?
These questions were then followed up with questions of my personal habits or behaviors, which I was also none to thrilled about. In the end, I felt like an abused step child, beaten until I could scream no more. They gave me the truth serum, and I fought it as best I could. (mind you, plausible deniability is a wonderful thing, even in situations dealing with those of undefinable relation!!) So, the "yes we talked about it, but I don't remember anything specific or earth shattering, was a wonderful statement (it happened to also be the truth! Hallelujah for bad memories!)
Am I the golden snitch? Do I want to be the golden snitch? Are they crazy and mean for putting me in the snitch position at all? I am sure anyone who is a parent is dying to have a golden snitch, but doesn't that betray all likelihood of friendship? I guess if there was something desperately wrong, but I would probably be the instigator of the conversation in that respect than otherwise.
Is the golden snitch really the key to the game? Or in the end, do you just have to say "Oh, no you didn't!"
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
I Live At Home
These days, if you're single and on the dating market, the words "I live at home with my parents" will stop many motivated potential mates dead in their tracks. Especially if you're a man. The idea of most men living at home with their parents says to prospective female companions, " I never grew up, mom still does my laundry and pays my phone bill, and I will probably pick her dinner over yours." These messages, among others that come to mind, are a big DO NOT BOTHER sign for many women. This is especially true when it's an older male who is of an age when he should have been able to graduate from college, and/or start a career and most definitely find life outside of video games. There is a certain point in men's lives when they should want to acquire their own space. Then they would subsequently have the independence and privacy which comes along with it. Even more so, you'd think they would like to be able to make out on the couch without worrying about getting caught. Am I right?
Such a double standard. Since I started graduate school, I moved back in with my parents. Going back to school is a fair reason to move back in, right? I thought it sounded pretty good. But here I am a year after graduation and I still "live at home with my parents." I'm 27 years old. And it's not because I can't afford to move out. I got my golden job opportunity after graduation. I make enough to live on my own. But then, are all ALWP's (Adults Living With Parents) equal offenders?
I often think my situation is very different from the middle-aged males still living with their folks. First of all, living with my parents still affords me an entire floor of the house and, therefore, much privacy. I take that back. First of all, I'm not a man. I'm a woman. There's a difference there. Secondly, what I said before. Also, I pay my own bills and do my own laundry and have a career. I am anything but a homebody. I've already lived away from home for over 5 years. And the folks are very unimposing and easy-going.
Really, it seems like an optimal situation for saving money on rent. Any of these living situation factors being less desirable would likely change my opinion and I would probably move out. I may not have even moved in in the first place. Were any of my personal attributes different, I would think I should be circumspect for being overly dependent and lacking the mojo and backbone to grow up. But I seem pretty healthy (not that I'm biased or anything.).
Speaking with a coworker from Latin America gave me even more fervor in my smart choice to live at home. The idea of having her children find their own place were they in my situation, coming from her Latin American background, isn't a symbol of independence. It's nonsense. Why would you live away from your family if you weren't married? It's a waste. And so far away.
Ahh! How liberating. Not only will I save on rent. But I shall cast off silly American consumer-minded, overly entitled, ideals that make no sense. How cool. It's clearly the best thing to do until I have reason to leave. I am nothing like those slackers who haven't grown up yet and can't take on the responsibility of providing for themselves. I'm independent. Yo.
Or am I? Truth be told, I don't know if I see myself as much different from "them" (I find it fascinating that it is so fun and easy to condemn a group, simply by labeling them as "them"). Even with my excellent situation, I still see negatives to living at home:
Negative #1: My parents are not incredibly overbearing, but they do have their opinions. And every now and again, when I finally get home, my mother will find her way up the stairs and give me the two cents she's been holding onto all week about whatever she thinks about the current status of myself and my beau, or her concern for how I work too much or don't get to church often enough or.... hmmm... so maybe her two cents' are actually the equivalent of a few dollars.
Negative #2: There is a joy in having your own space to decorate, to move into all the way, to roam and make noise as you see fit, which is less doable when you live in someone else's house. I do not decorate. It's not my house to decorate (though I'm not sure I'm much of a decorator anyway. But maybe I am. Who knows.) I also do not expand into other rooms. Everything that is mine is crammed into my bedroom. If I lived in my own place, many things would move to a living room area or an office or something like that. And I would be less cramped and perhaps more organized. And I would not have piano lessons going on in the living room when I would like to read in peaceful quiet, or to cause a raucous with workout music in that very room.
Negative #3: I do like to respect my parents and their wishes. Really, I do. I'm a sucker for being obedient AND a peacemaker -- doublewhammy.It is likely, however, if they were less privy to the details of my life, they would less frequently voice their wishes. And I would be unable to go against wishes I did not know about. And without all their wishes and advice floating around in my head, I imagine my decisions and persuasions would be slightly different and I would be....... more independent. Oh my. Hmm. Wait a minute? I'm not totally independent?
Even if I am mostly independent, I am still dependent. And I don't think it's that healthy interdependent stuff that therapists talk about as a good thing. I may have a healthy amount of social circles to run around in. I may rarely be home because I'm busy living my life. I may pay for all of my own expenses and never borrow from my parents. I may be, by nature, very mentally independent and capable of making my own choices. I may be responsible and able to manage my life. But there is an element of dependence that is virtually unavoidable if a child, now a grown adult, still lives at home. You can't get around it. At least I haven't figured out how.
And then, of course, there are the obvious dependencies. Benefits of the food they feed me (I've never cooked for myself, even when I lived away from home. I was very good at 5 minute meals, microwaving, and eating meals of questionable contents and portion sizes. This does not bode well with parents.). And they bought me a microwave and a blender because they noticed I didn't have one (which they probably wouldn't have noticed if they did not see my kitchen.) Mmmhmm. You see as well as I do, I'm quickly starting to rack up quite a bill. Taking into account all the in-kind donations, suddenly somebody is not looking very independent. That somebody would be me.
Yes, I can move out. Moving out only comes with a more expensive price tag. But, as a self-sufficient adult who can manage a budget just fine and has provided for herself for years, it's clearly not just the money that keeps me at home. Not to say money isn't a factor. Admittedly, I do value money and don't like to waste it. If living in my own place were a free thing, there is no question I would do that. In fact, saving money is, in whole, why I live at home. But, while it is the great advantage, it is not the only consideration. Perhaps the reasons for moving out and being independent should way heavier than I have accounted for thus far in my lists of pros and cons. The question is: how detrimental is it for ALWP's to live at home? Even in a best case scenario? Whenever possible, should ALWP's just suck it up and move out?
Such a double standard. Since I started graduate school, I moved back in with my parents. Going back to school is a fair reason to move back in, right? I thought it sounded pretty good. But here I am a year after graduation and I still "live at home with my parents." I'm 27 years old. And it's not because I can't afford to move out. I got my golden job opportunity after graduation. I make enough to live on my own. But then, are all ALWP's (Adults Living With Parents) equal offenders?
I often think my situation is very different from the middle-aged males still living with their folks. First of all, living with my parents still affords me an entire floor of the house and, therefore, much privacy. I take that back. First of all, I'm not a man. I'm a woman. There's a difference there. Secondly, what I said before. Also, I pay my own bills and do my own laundry and have a career. I am anything but a homebody. I've already lived away from home for over 5 years. And the folks are very unimposing and easy-going.
Really, it seems like an optimal situation for saving money on rent. Any of these living situation factors being less desirable would likely change my opinion and I would probably move out. I may not have even moved in in the first place. Were any of my personal attributes different, I would think I should be circumspect for being overly dependent and lacking the mojo and backbone to grow up. But I seem pretty healthy (not that I'm biased or anything.).
Speaking with a coworker from Latin America gave me even more fervor in my smart choice to live at home. The idea of having her children find their own place were they in my situation, coming from her Latin American background, isn't a symbol of independence. It's nonsense. Why would you live away from your family if you weren't married? It's a waste. And so far away.
Ahh! How liberating. Not only will I save on rent. But I shall cast off silly American consumer-minded, overly entitled, ideals that make no sense. How cool. It's clearly the best thing to do until I have reason to leave. I am nothing like those slackers who haven't grown up yet and can't take on the responsibility of providing for themselves. I'm independent. Yo.
Or am I? Truth be told, I don't know if I see myself as much different from "them" (I find it fascinating that it is so fun and easy to condemn a group, simply by labeling them as "them"). Even with my excellent situation, I still see negatives to living at home:
Negative #1: My parents are not incredibly overbearing, but they do have their opinions. And every now and again, when I finally get home, my mother will find her way up the stairs and give me the two cents she's been holding onto all week about whatever she thinks about the current status of myself and my beau, or her concern for how I work too much or don't get to church often enough or.... hmmm... so maybe her two cents' are actually the equivalent of a few dollars.
Negative #2: There is a joy in having your own space to decorate, to move into all the way, to roam and make noise as you see fit, which is less doable when you live in someone else's house. I do not decorate. It's not my house to decorate (though I'm not sure I'm much of a decorator anyway. But maybe I am. Who knows.) I also do not expand into other rooms. Everything that is mine is crammed into my bedroom. If I lived in my own place, many things would move to a living room area or an office or something like that. And I would be less cramped and perhaps more organized. And I would not have piano lessons going on in the living room when I would like to read in peaceful quiet, or to cause a raucous with workout music in that very room.
Negative #3: I do like to respect my parents and their wishes. Really, I do. I'm a sucker for being obedient AND a peacemaker -- doublewhammy.It is likely, however, if they were less privy to the details of my life, they would less frequently voice their wishes. And I would be unable to go against wishes I did not know about. And without all their wishes and advice floating around in my head, I imagine my decisions and persuasions would be slightly different and I would be....... more independent. Oh my. Hmm. Wait a minute? I'm not totally independent?
Even if I am mostly independent, I am still dependent. And I don't think it's that healthy interdependent stuff that therapists talk about as a good thing. I may have a healthy amount of social circles to run around in. I may rarely be home because I'm busy living my life. I may pay for all of my own expenses and never borrow from my parents. I may be, by nature, very mentally independent and capable of making my own choices. I may be responsible and able to manage my life. But there is an element of dependence that is virtually unavoidable if a child, now a grown adult, still lives at home. You can't get around it. At least I haven't figured out how.
And then, of course, there are the obvious dependencies. Benefits of the food they feed me (I've never cooked for myself, even when I lived away from home. I was very good at 5 minute meals, microwaving, and eating meals of questionable contents and portion sizes. This does not bode well with parents.). And they bought me a microwave and a blender because they noticed I didn't have one (which they probably wouldn't have noticed if they did not see my kitchen.) Mmmhmm. You see as well as I do, I'm quickly starting to rack up quite a bill. Taking into account all the in-kind donations, suddenly somebody is not looking very independent. That somebody would be me.
Yes, I can move out. Moving out only comes with a more expensive price tag. But, as a self-sufficient adult who can manage a budget just fine and has provided for herself for years, it's clearly not just the money that keeps me at home. Not to say money isn't a factor. Admittedly, I do value money and don't like to waste it. If living in my own place were a free thing, there is no question I would do that. In fact, saving money is, in whole, why I live at home. But, while it is the great advantage, it is not the only consideration. Perhaps the reasons for moving out and being independent should way heavier than I have accounted for thus far in my lists of pros and cons. The question is: how detrimental is it for ALWP's to live at home? Even in a best case scenario? Whenever possible, should ALWP's just suck it up and move out?
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Self Praise
I just thought I would state that I took the picture Sharon posted of herself. I was particularly impressed with myself on that one. It was taken on a fantastic whirlwind of a journey across the U.S. from Utah to Minnesota in a huge R.V. with 4 little kids, a gaggle of adults, and fun little jaunts hiking around rivers and waterfalls. It was a beautiful day to say the least!
P.S. I didn't take the picture of the lion, although I was there when it was taken. The shot is from a trip to Africa in the spring of 2006. Gorgeous country, lovely animals, and oh so funny stories.
P.S. I didn't take the picture of the lion, although I was there when it was taken. The shot is from a trip to Africa in the spring of 2006. Gorgeous country, lovely animals, and oh so funny stories.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Biker Man
Yesterday I did a very awful thing. Very awful. And the results of this awful thing could have been much worse and horrific than they were. But now the awful thing is kind of a funny thing. I have found this thing which is luckily not tragic to now be a little humorous. Isn't it crazy how that works?
I was turning right from one street to another. The light was red. So, I waited for a break in traffic and then I went for it. The big mistake was that I perfunctorally glanced right after I saw the break in traffic to my left. I clearly did not thoroughly look right because as I started to "go for it", a biker man came out of nowhere from my right and wisked himself across the street right in front of my car. If I'd really looked, I imagine he would have not appeared "out ot nowhere". All was fine, ...except for the fact I'd already started to move by that time.
Of course, how he got across my car so quickly when I was moving makes me wonder how fast he was going. At least now it does. I hadn't considered it much yesterday. And suddenly, as I write this, I wonder if I would have been ABLE to see him. At that speed, how far away was he when I would have looked? But that's another story. And a pointless story or perusal, as I have already accepted blame.
Anyhow, I nipped the back of his rear bike wheel. He kind of tipsied to a stop, put his legs firmly on the ground and managed not to spill his large slurpee beverage. I saw this, as I had pulled over to the side and was looking back to see if I'd killed him or horrifically twisted his leg off or sent him crashing to the ground with a load of scrapes and cuts. No, no, and thankfully no. Instead I was delighted and thankful to find him capably and coherently cursing at me and calling the police on the phone. I really was delighted. When I got out of the car to talk to him, he told the police I had stopped, he was fine, and that he was going to talk to me first before he would ask them to come. I was thankful for that too.
I looked down at the poor guy's bike. As my eyes worked their way to the asphalt on the road where it was, I noticed the shaking legs of the biker man, which I'm sure was the result of all the adrenaline and endorphines running through his body from the great shock I gave him. After all, he just got hit by a car. My car!
Yes, at this point in time I am feeling badly. However, I admit that I am feeling significantly less bad than I would have felt had he actually been hurt. I am mostly feeling lucky. Very lucky. And then I'm telling myself I SHOULD feel bad because of how much potential I had to do a very awful thing just before. It's like my mother, principal and sunday school teacher have taken up a room in my head to be there and tell me how bad I am and what could have happened in the event I should do something bad, ...as I had just done. "I hadn't meant to," I argue. "But you did it all the same," they say. And to that I have no rebuttal.
Biker man calmed down. He was much nicer after he realized I was concerned for his well-being and that I wished to pay for the damage done. I made mention that his back wheel looked bent. He said he bought his bike for $120 and that he could get a new one probably for $100. I luckily had $100 on me. I was so glad. I gave him the $100 and then gave him my phone number and told him to call me in case he found that repairing the bike or getting a new one would cost more. I'm rarely so unphased at so unexpectedly and quickly parting with $100. But it didn't seem like a big loss, all things considered. He thanked me, told me to look more carefully in the future (it was a very kind chastisement, not at all mean or biting), and went on his way. The end. Except for the filed police report, of course. We did that (I may be quite naive, but I do also have moments when I visit reality).
And so, now I think, "I hit a biker man yesterday. How shocking. And frightening. And kinda funny. " I'm very glad, and very thankful, that this story is that kind of story.
I was turning right from one street to another. The light was red. So, I waited for a break in traffic and then I went for it. The big mistake was that I perfunctorally glanced right after I saw the break in traffic to my left. I clearly did not thoroughly look right because as I started to "go for it", a biker man came out of nowhere from my right and wisked himself across the street right in front of my car. If I'd really looked, I imagine he would have not appeared "out ot nowhere". All was fine, ...except for the fact I'd already started to move by that time.
Of course, how he got across my car so quickly when I was moving makes me wonder how fast he was going. At least now it does. I hadn't considered it much yesterday. And suddenly, as I write this, I wonder if I would have been ABLE to see him. At that speed, how far away was he when I would have looked? But that's another story. And a pointless story or perusal, as I have already accepted blame.
Anyhow, I nipped the back of his rear bike wheel. He kind of tipsied to a stop, put his legs firmly on the ground and managed not to spill his large slurpee beverage. I saw this, as I had pulled over to the side and was looking back to see if I'd killed him or horrifically twisted his leg off or sent him crashing to the ground with a load of scrapes and cuts. No, no, and thankfully no. Instead I was delighted and thankful to find him capably and coherently cursing at me and calling the police on the phone. I really was delighted. When I got out of the car to talk to him, he told the police I had stopped, he was fine, and that he was going to talk to me first before he would ask them to come. I was thankful for that too.
I looked down at the poor guy's bike. As my eyes worked their way to the asphalt on the road where it was, I noticed the shaking legs of the biker man, which I'm sure was the result of all the adrenaline and endorphines running through his body from the great shock I gave him. After all, he just got hit by a car. My car!
Yes, at this point in time I am feeling badly. However, I admit that I am feeling significantly less bad than I would have felt had he actually been hurt. I am mostly feeling lucky. Very lucky. And then I'm telling myself I SHOULD feel bad because of how much potential I had to do a very awful thing just before. It's like my mother, principal and sunday school teacher have taken up a room in my head to be there and tell me how bad I am and what could have happened in the event I should do something bad, ...as I had just done. "I hadn't meant to," I argue. "But you did it all the same," they say. And to that I have no rebuttal.
Biker man calmed down. He was much nicer after he realized I was concerned for his well-being and that I wished to pay for the damage done. I made mention that his back wheel looked bent. He said he bought his bike for $120 and that he could get a new one probably for $100. I luckily had $100 on me. I was so glad. I gave him the $100 and then gave him my phone number and told him to call me in case he found that repairing the bike or getting a new one would cost more. I'm rarely so unphased at so unexpectedly and quickly parting with $100. But it didn't seem like a big loss, all things considered. He thanked me, told me to look more carefully in the future (it was a very kind chastisement, not at all mean or biting), and went on his way. The end. Except for the filed police report, of course. We did that (I may be quite naive, but I do also have moments when I visit reality).
And so, now I think, "I hit a biker man yesterday. How shocking. And frightening. And kinda funny. " I'm very glad, and very thankful, that this story is that kind of story.
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