Mood: Pooped Music: "White Rabbit" - Jefferson Airplane *plops down in front of the computer with his clothes all dirtied, wrinkled, and smelling like Mr. Clean; his hair is tousled, sticking this way and that, and a thin veil of sweat covers his too-small-to-be-an-adult-of-21 body; a few - well actually, several - smudges of dirt are over his arms, hands, and face, and he looks very, very, extremely fucking tired* Ugh. It's been a long day. "Gee, Seth, what did you do today?" Well, golly, I sure am glad you asked that. First off, there will be no dream entry today. I can't really remember them and I'm just too damn brain-fried to do it right now. Maybe tomorrow. But as for today. What I did today ... Ugh. I cleaned today. Both Lindsay and Melissa know that I am a neat freak when it comes to the apartment ... But today I cleaned my car. Yes, my car. You would think that I lived in my car. Well, I don't - even though it has to be one of the filthiest places and you could probably swear on the graves of your ancestors that I hadn't cleaned it in two years. Well, actually, I straighten it all the time. I just love my car so much that I spend a lot of time in it, and it's just a pigsty because usually, by the time I get home, I'm too tired to clean it. Fair enough? Fair enough. Makes sense? Makes loads of sense. So my car is a mess. I take it to the carwash held by ... some ... local high school club or team or ... something or other. I pay my ten bucks, I come back. I sigh. I stare at my wonderful car - that I have had since I was a freshman in college. I named him Kurama. Kurama KITT. (As you can tell, I've been a fan of Yu Yu Hakusho for years. Knight Rider goes without saying.) My wonderful '93 Pontiac Sunbird, that I got back in September of 2000 after I fucking wrecked my '88 Mustang (Named that one Nataku KITT - yes, after Gundam Wing, and yes, I've always wanted a KITT of my very own) and I don't know why or for what reason I wrecked, but OH do I remember how. I'll talk about that later. Anyway. I stare at my car for about five to ten minutes. I say, "Kurama. I don't know where to start." And my car stares back at me. And you know, if you stare at the car long enough, it too will stare back at you. Sorry ... little Nietzsche moment. And then, Melissa drives up and - Oh, Melissa, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. - She saves my life by just stopping by for a visit. She asks what I was planning on doing today, I say "Cleaning Kurama." And she's like "ohhhhhhhh. Want some help?" I ... ... LOVE this woman! So I partake in waxing my beautiful Kurama while she starts taking stuff out of the car and putting it in trash bags, labeling them so I know what's actually trash, and what's stuff that I want to keep. This takes about two hours ... Because we have been unofficially diagnosed with A.D.D. (We told ourselves we had that; it's the only logical explanation other than laziness, and we'd never admit that about ourselves.) And then, we start to vacuum. Okay - my outdoor vacuum is a piece of SHIT. Do you hear me? A piece of SHIT. I have to detach all of the attachments and just use the pipe to clean - and this pipe is maybe an inch and a half in diameter - and I have to keep going over spots and ... My car is very, VERY filthy. It's nasty. There's dirt everywhere. That takes about an hour. Then Melissa starts to wash down the vinyl on the insides of the doors, the dash, etc, while I start to scrub the carpet. This takes another hour. We break for strawberry shortcake and smoothies - compliments of yours truly. This takes about two hours, because we're lazy slobs and, besides, it was an episode of Kenshin that neither of us had seen. And the last hour is spent cleaning the windows - inside and out - because I have crappy window cleaner and everything sucks. So now ... my car is clean and smells like Bounce fabric fresh ... stuff. You know, like Febreze, only made by Bounce and smells better? And tomorrow ... I do the trunk. Because I ran out of daylight today and the parking lot isn't exactly well lit. Oh well, we'll be moving sometime in the future ... to a bigger apartment, you know, expecting a baby and all. Oh! When I went to unplug the vacuum cleaner from the extension cord, I created a mini-electrical fire in my hand and dropped it. It went out - but no one was hurt. Just felt like a warm breeze against my right thumb. I think the cleaner might be shot, though. It's as old as I am, if not older. In fact, I think it was a wedding present to my parents. It's certainly been around for as long as I can remember, and it definitely looks like something from the 70's. But, anyway, I didn't get burned or electrocuted, so all is well! Melissa's gone home and now, I'm kicking back, writing in my journal, smelling like Windex and Mr. Clean. Fun times. Oh, the fun, fun times. Oh, the humanity. So, I said I'd talk about my Mustang wreck, right? Yeah. So, anyway, when I was sixteen, I had this 88 Mustang, midnight blue, 2-door, 4 cylinder - so it wasn't one of those really sporty Mustangs you see. I named it Nataku KITT - A) Because I've always wanted my very own KITT from Knight Rider and B) because I was an avid fan of Gundam Wing at the time, and my car was my Gundam ... and a she; it seemed fitting. (Kurama, the car I have now, is a he; why? I don't know.)Anyway, I had this up until I started college, then I wrecked it. And that was not fun. This is what happened. Freshman year of college ... 18 September 2000 I was sick that day. I'd just paid toll at the Hartford toll booth - maybe gone a couple of miles toward Owensboro before I start to pass this car. So I've just finished passing the guy when something happens - I don't know what - I might have coughed, sneezed, blacked-out, I don't know - but the next thing I know, I'm on the median, in the grass. So then I try to correct myself, but I end up OVER correcting myself and am suddenly going horizontal, speed across the two lanes, and run, head-on, into the hill ... The state trooper said that I flipped three times. I only remember two. And all the while I was screaming - and I remember screaming for my mother. (My mother has been dead for six years. Her and Dad were killed by a drunk driver. DON'T fucking DRINK AND DRIVE! EVER! Don't ride with drunk people, either. GET THE KEYS or a SOBER Designated Driver. PLEASE.) Next thing I know, my car's upright, on the slant of this plateau-ish hill; I'm grasping the wheel like it's the only think that's saving my life, and I call out for Mom ... ... like she'll come ... And what's the first thing I do? I put on my flashers. Then my emergengy brake, so I don't go rolling back down the hill. Did I roll down the windows? No. Did I unfasten my seatbelt and get out? No. Did I take the key out of ignition? No. I'm stupid. I admit it. What do I do? I look around the car and wonder if it's okay enough for me to finish driving back to school ... because I have to fucking get to school. I don't want to be late. I'm such a freak. Anyway, this guy comes running up the hill to me, opens the passenger door, and sits in the spot where the passenger seat used to be - which is now where the back seat used to be ... which is now in the rear window - which is still in place, believe it or not! And the guy is like "are you okay? that was quite a show" trying to be all smiles because good humor and positive attitude really help in situations like this. (But then, he might have been in some sort of amazed stupor at the fact that I was ALIVE.) And I'm still grasping the wheel like there's no tomorrow and I'm leaning back in my seat - and, amazingly, there's nothing wrong with the driver's side, save a bent door - everything's in place - and I'm just sitting there, clinging to the wheel, and I answer the guy: "How fast would you say I was going?" And he said "65, 70." (65 is the speed limit for the road.) And I'm like "oh." I pause, then ask " Think my car's okay enough to get me to school?" ((Remember that scene from the first Harry Potter movie? Where Hermione says "You could get us killed, or worse, expelled;" and then Ron says "She really needs to get her priorities straight" or something like that? Yeah. It was like that. I put academics over my own well-being. What's wrong with me? I don't know, probably the need to succeed drives me. But ... I'll get into all of this another time.)) And the guy says, "You know? I think you better let go of that steering wheel and breathe for a bit." And I hear this other guy from below yell something, and the guy next to me says out the door "I think he's okay." And the guy tells me his name - but I don't remember it. I barely even remember his face, but he was nice, name started with an "S" I think ... I can't remember the whole thing, though. Turns out, that the other guy was an EMT that was driving to work in Hartford when he saw me flip and took the U-Turn back to help me. His name was Mike. Funny guy. I found out later that his wife went to nursing school with my mom. Small world. I kept telling him "no, that's okay, I can crawl out on my own" - but he makes me wear that goddamned brace ... Not like I could move my head anyway. Felt really, really heavy. Whiplash. Woohoo! I came out with a few bruises, three bumps on the back of my head, and a seatbelt burn. I came out practically UNSCATHED. Now, how many people can tell your that's NORMAL for someone who'd just flipped his car THREE TIMES? No one. Seat belts save lives. I'm living proof. Buckle up, Earth. You know, it never occurred to me, when I was correcting myself, to slow down. Never occurred to me to put on the brake. But you know? Maybe the speed is what saved my life. What if I had been going any faster, or any slower, and both of those speeds had killed me, but because I didn't think to slow down, my life was safe? Anyway - I don't know how I survived. I don't know how it was possible - and, other than the seatbelt, I don't know what saved me - but something did. I'm still trying to figure out what ... And why I'm still here. And not dead. Or maybe, I did die then, and my soul spread on to another existing me in another dimension ... and I'm still living ... I don't know. Too much thinking going on. Kind of makes me want to watch The One again, though. Anyway, I'm a tired Seth right now, and I think I've talked enough for this entry - especially considering I have no dreams to tell of. This is what happens when a tired Quiet Seth rambles ... Oh, and I got the results back from my Rorschach test this afternoon. Apparently, there's nothing wrong with me. In fact, I have a peaceful unconscious mind. A week ago - maybe two weeks - I got the results back from my IQ test. I have an IQ of 129. So ... I'm a peaceful intellectual. That's good, right? Too tired to talk much about this. I'm going to go back and study the seven pages that are the Rorschach results ... and maybe look back over the 20 pages of IQ results. *sigh* I feel indifferent about this. Very blah. I'm doing hair-tugging now, though. I need sleep. Oh well ... Quizzes ... Just for Ms. Sklar, and not for my own selfish, whore-like addiction ... Seriously.
youre an artist.
youre extremely creative and like anything thought-
provoking. you probably write poetry or
stories. its possible youre depressed, or it
could be that others just think you are. and
most likely you cant stand airheads.

let me judge you.
brought to you by Quizilla ((Oh ... you flatter.)) ________________________________________________________________________
well how about that, youre 'dude, youre gettin a
dell!'

just because they have the new interns doesnt mean
we forgot about you. that slogan will be
remembered for years to come, as will you. now
go make your mark on the world.

the greatest quiz that ever existed.
brought to you by Quizilla ((Mmm hm ... well ... yeah ... I don't know.)) _____________________________________________________________________
you are GARFIELD!

you are the 'star of the show' - someone who loves
the simple things - sunbeams, eating, sleeping,
and kicking odie off of the table. you dislike
spiders but always find a crafty way to squash
them.

what garfield character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla ((Actually ... I like spiders. In fact, I can't stand to kill them unless they bite me. I'm always finding crafty ways of getting them outside, though ...)) _____________________________________________________________________________ SLEEP NOW!!!! Blessed be.