Thirteen stations of the cross to mark their fall

[cyrano]

Being ignored by ESP. I really hate being ignored. It fells me most irksome. Called and left voice mail--later I'll try to get an attendant and ask if maybe she's out sick. Crossed fingers.
Plus, a phone call from somebody named Jessica from a place whose name I couldn't make out on the answering machine who wants to set up an interview. More crossed fingers. My paycheques stop in two weeks. Left her voicemail as well. I am the king of the message machine.
Went all the way into Mountain View, testing the light rail, and got to go to Full House for lunch after far too long away. I got potstickers and a big bowl of wonton soup, and dinner stuff. (General chicken for me, and beef chow fun for the 'mate who has been wrongly convinced that FH doesn't have any.)
Took a spin by BookBuyers, a nice local used book store, and spent $20 on a book, which is about 500% my usual for a book. But it was this beautiful book about Shakespeare in film, up to and including the new Love's Labour's Lost and the version of As You Like it that Branagh is threatening to do in the Kyoto cherry forest. Lots of pretty pictures. I was disappointed that The Dresser wasn't in it, but they did include Forbidden Planet and Looking for Richard so it looks like a thoughtful work.
I had another talk with a friend last night where the dreaded phrase 'you need to learn to drive' came up. (Not the same friend every time. Just the same phrase.) I hate knowing that I have to learn to drive. Firstly, I spent 25 years living in Corvallis and not needing to drive. Secondly, I spent three years here getting by without a car and trying to convince myself that this place was not so fucked up as to require everybody living here to drive a car. After holding a position that long, it's hard to admit you were wrong. Thirdly, I dread the thought of sinking the cash of learning, certifying, and insuring me and upkeeping and petroling the Nissan. Fourthly, and possibly most deeply rooted, the thought of driving scares the living shit out of me. Wielding that much potential damage and destruction is overwhelming. As I drive, the possibilities clog my brain until I go tharn. Maybe I just need a good solid accident under my belt so that I've got one under my belt and discover it's not the end of the world. *sigh*

Comments

Re: Driving

[cyranocyrano.livejournal.com]

Oh my dear sainted aunt. I'm glad somebody else saw the resemblance. but I think the last thing I need is a thick necked bull moose blorting at me when I'm in the middle of roll-your-eyes-back-in-your-head anxiety attack in six lanes of traffic. (Plus left turn lanes, and sometimes right turn lanes.)