so today goes down in the recordbooks as one of the more eventful ones this summer. rj wouldn't drive me home at 3 am, the lazy bum, so i ended up sleeping over there instead of in my own bed. naturally, 6 rolls around my i get the frantic phone call from my mom, wondering where the hell i was. it wasn't so bad when i got home, my dad and i sat and had a short conversation about summer ending, and all the conflict that goes with it. he understood, at least, why i wouldn't think staying out all night was such a crime. but the verdict is still up to my mom, since she's the one who's so mad about it. i didn't see her at all this morning, which makes me wonder. why didn't she yell? why no confrontation? i was up, waiting for it, until 9, when i finally realized she'd left and it was okay for me to fall asleep before work. and trust me, nothing beats falling asleep in your own bed. especially when that bed is piled with pillows and comfy mexican blankets.
work... oh god. the story of my summer. not bad, not good, just something that happens. my boss had a conversation with me about a complaint, some mom got upset that her kid wouldn't get in the water last night. big misunderstanding about it, but nothing serious. i like working at kenneth jones because craig doesn't kiss ass. he's diplomatic, yes, but he also knows that people can be dumb.
okay, there were some really fun parts at work though. ryan and i did swing dancing/flips in the pool before lessons, and we got some pretty good air on them. after lessons i sat around and talked to darling andy, who's so arrogant that talking to him is one of the most amusing things to do at work. i filled him in on all this summer's drama, and he mocked me for it. bastard! but i love him, and i'll miss him when i go to college.
here's where it all just goes to shit. i'm biking along, happy as a clam, excited to get home and.. hell, i don't even know what i'd planned to do tonight. call chanel and find out where she is, probably. now, biking for me has recently become an extreme sport. no one checks for bikers before they turn, so part of the game is seeing who's going to look or not, and who's going to slam on their brakes or just barely miss. i get pretty angry while i'm biking - yesterday rj mentioned his absence of stress. today, i realized my stress level fluctuates worse than a bipolar teenager's moods. hell, i might as well be a bipolar teenager. basically, i've been expecting to get hit all summer. i'd decided that tonight was it, i was going to corner my dad and find out where these supposed helmets in our garage are being hidden.
well, i got hit. you probably saw that coming. some elder in the korean church pulled out into my front wheel. i flipped across the hood, and the first thought through my head was "oh damn i'm not wearing a helmet!" luckily i caught myself with my hands and flipped over onto my back, so instead of hitting concrete i was cushioned by my backpack, and the big fluffy towel stuffed inside. this fantastic couple saw it happen, pulled over and stuck around as witnesses. i cussed the guy out until the hyperventilating/hiccupping made my yelling sound pathetic, so i settled for breaking into tears and muttering "jesus" and "holy fuck" every now and then. the husband in the witnessing couple took care of stuff for me, told off the guy who hit me, called 911, all that. his wife sat with me on the curb and kept asking if i was okay, which was more embarassing than anything else. oh, and speaking of that, i have this huge bruise/burn across my inner right thigh from where it scraped over the handlebar. so the firefighters showed up, a cop took the korean elder's insurance info, and i called my parents. the usual intro from every time i've been in a car accident "hey mom.. don't panic or anything.. but i got hit by a car." it wasn't as effective this time, though, since i could barely say three words without hyperventilating. the firefighters gave me an icepack, said i was fine. parents showed up and took the bike, and me, home. i sat on the porch with scott and smoked, which made me realize i'd lost my sense of taste. i tried his diet coke, and same thing. it came back a while ago, but it was gone for at least an hour. it was weird.
the whole thing was just.. scary. scary as all fucking hell. it could have been so much worse, and i still can't get over that i got out of it so completely unharmed. my hands aren't even scratched up. i'm all wrapped up in blankets, drinking tea, with a sleeping pill from my mom on hand for when i feel like going to bed. it's not so bad now, but... i was shook up for a good long while. i never called chanel, i was too afraid i'd burst into tears the second i asked her where she was. (in fact, i felt my tear ducts tingling just typing that, so i don't think i'll call her at all tonight.)