summer comparrisons

In IL it meant:
Bonfires and nights covered in mud.
Fireflies and lightning bugs in jars.
White Sox games and hot dogs and beer.. (oh how I miss the real baseball games)
Accents.
Going to the lake and watching spiders weave webs.
Dinners with tons of family.
Grilling outside.
Ghost stories.
Cheap beer cans all over the yard.
Bowling and then coffee and saganake.
Going to department stores because they were open 24 hrs.
White castle sliders after a long night of drinking.
Sex out in the long grass with the hot wind blowing.
shooting at the range.
Tents and giggling.
Stealing road signs.
Days at Navy Pier and the Sears Tower (I miss a real city)
Mosquito bites.
Trying to cover the scent of bug spray up.
The sound of a bug zapper killing a huge one.
The glow of a bug zapper.
Water wings.
Calling the filled in coal mine “a beach.”
Dairy Queen.
Secret rondevous.
Dellwood park rituals.
Becoming blood brothers with someone.
Keggers.

In areas where my friends would have family, they were so in the middle of nowhere that there’d be nothing there but a Walmart and tons and tons of condoms for sale. It’s those things that make me dread going back to IL.. even though where I grew up may have been suburbia, it wasn’t completely horrible. It’s kind of like here except they get bad weather back home and a few other things.


In San Diego, the weather is nearly perfect year round. Not too hot, nor too cold generally. It’s like Hawaii but more stateside. It’s relaxed there but not as much hustle bustle unless you go downtown to the Gaslamp district.

Summertime and concerts..
smoothies (heh)
the most divine fresh picked berries.

freshly cut grass.
dandilion sunbursts and wishes galore.
the sight of a some hot toned boys & girls with a bit of sweat on their brows and tight tummies…

surfer boys.
skater rats.

taking pictures with a telephoto lens.

the most melt in your mouth tasting sushi.
midday cocktails.
walks on the beach.
dancing with the warm wind around you.

fear of santa anas.
praying for rain so there won’t be fires…
then dreading driving/walking/waiting around in it, but still splashing in puddles with long yellow rubber coats and gloshes.

and sometimes the rain is hot enough.. and you can just dance… and the clothes come off because its hot outside too and its perfect and should be filmed and you should be in it.. and you and you and you and you…

Going to the Children’s Pool and looking at the seals that used to be there.
Fireworks over the bay.
Coy fish in Balboa Park right in front of the free Botanical Garden.
Nights out in LA looking for that perfect club no ones heard about.

Tagging random places and photographing the not so nice neighborhoods.
Candelight and sidewalk chalk.
Camera tossing.

Bike riding.
Horror movies and popcorn.
Complaining about the really bad foreign food you ate…
then raving about it an hour later.

The lights that never go down.. in the city where I wouldn’t want to sleep anywhere but in his arms if only, if only I were there…

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So today I got hit by a car again…

Sad to say that I’m serious.
I was riding my bike on the way to do the one errand I had to do today, and some guy in an alley did not see me. It was pretty scary. I was riding and saw no one there so I didn’t slow down. Then I see this car coming at me.

I’m fine. He just tapped me. Guy felt really bad about it. I have one little scratch but nothing major.
I tried tweeting about it when I hopped the bus but Twitter was down.
Little things like that seem to happen to me. This isn’t the first time I’ve been hit by a car outside of a “normal” car accident… it’s actually the first time I got hit by a car that wasn’t mine.

Yes, you read that right.. I was hit by my own car once. It was a long time ago, and that accident was a bit worse. I actually ended up getting the emergency treatment and nearly broke my legs.

Backing up, here’s what happened before that:

My friend Robin is the angel of death to the series of cars I had when I lived back home. Why? Because the only and every time I had car problems there, she was in the car when it happened. Sure they were not the best of cars to begin with. Sure, my uncle thinks he really knows about cars but might not be the best at it. Sure it could purely just be coincidental. But 3 transmissions and every single one? Yeah right!

I went to 3 different high schools back home. I knew most everyone. If we went somewhere, I knew someone. It drove her nuts. We were trying to figure out plans for the night and couldn’t come up with anything. I reccomended winging it, thinking we’d go out and run into someone anyway who might know of something to do. Tonight, at last minute, she made it clear that she wanted to go somewhere specific.

It wasn’t far from home. And I love to drive. (I miss driving so much) So we got in the car and headed over there. At this point, she’s rushing me. I’m speeding anyway, and then I hear a thud. My transmission dropped.

Robin gives me this eye and I just shrug. I have to get this taken care of. I have to get it out of the middle of the road. I don’t have insurance and couldn’t afford to get it towed. I told her to get out and help me push the car into a parking lot. She huffs and moves.

Now, unbeknownst to me as to why she did it, she locks the doors. So little 4 ft nothing me and tall string bean blonde her are pushing my Lebaron out of the road. It’s night and the streetlights are on.

We hadn’t really thought about it, but the parking lot that we were pushing the car into was at an incline. So when we started pushing, of course it started to roll down the hill. Robin was at the top, and had stopped pushing. She saw the light shine on my car and screams “It’s going to hit another car!”

I tried to open my door to step on the brakes. However, she had locked the damn door. I was thinking oh fuck, I’m going to have a mess if my car hits another car… what do I do?
Logically, the only thing for me to do was jump in between them.
So I run in front of my car, and stand in front of this parked one. The car bounced off my legs and stopped. It did not hit the other car.

Robin looked at me shocked that I’d just done that. There were people in a place eating looking dumbfounded at me.

“Are you alright?!” she screamed at me.
“Yeah, what are you talking about? I’m fine.” I said. And then my legs gave out.

They called an ambulance and had me checked out. Miraculously, I did not break my legs. I’d just sprained them or something. The doctor gave me some Tylenol 3 with Codeine. I was wheeled out to the waiting room to my parents, Robin, and her parents.

Now as a sidenote, but a relevant one, Robin and I were regulars for Cosmic bowling every Saturday night from 12-2. We’d go there and then hang out at a 24 hour coffee shop and smoke ciggarrettes and have pie and conversation with a group of other friends. Most everyone that lived local and was in the circle went. We knew all the business owners by first name, and they noticed if we were even late, let alone didn’t go. Hell, they hit on us. We were 19 though, so it was a given.

When I came into the waiting room, Robin’s immediate reaction was “Oh man you’re not going to be able to go to Cosmic are you?”
Not- “Are you alright?”
“Glad that you’re alright.”
“Did you break anything?”
etc.
No. It was her whineing that I couldn’t go bowling that weekend.

I was still living with family at the time. Dad was house sitting for a friend who had a big property. There was a jacuzzi inside the house (a big deal for in IL). Robin called on Saturday to ask me how I was, and if I was even going to go. “You could always just getting a walking band and not bowl you know? Just tell your dad that. How are you feeling anyway?”

How was I feeling?
I was quite enjoying the medication and the hottub… my response was “I have no legs! I have no legs!” I was buzzed off my mind.

I called her back later and told her I’d figure out a way to go though. My dad was still overprotective then… hasn’t died down yet… probably never will. I told him I was just going to sit and watch and hang out with my friends. I’m sure my dad knew better, but he let me go anyway, so long as Robin was the one who drove this time and I didn’t bowl.

I dressed the way I normally do for the meat market, minus the wraps on my legs and the crutches.

Oh and for those people who think it’s “hickish” to be going bowling and call that a meat market, out in the burbs where I grew up, there weren’t those types. I lived about 30-45 mins away from Chicago.. not the boonies thank you very much. There were a few cute boys there.. I was a frequent dater there too. But those are different stories.

I went to get my band for the night and they asked “Playing or walking.” Then they looked up and saw my crutches. “Geezus what the hell happened Jen? Guess you’re getting a walking band then eh?”

I handed him my crutches, and said “No, fuck that. I’m playing. I’m not a sissy girl.” And I did.

People knew a little bit about what had happened. They came up to our table afterwards and asked me if it was true.
“Did you really get hit by your own car?”
“Yes, and I didn’t break my legs. That’s what’s makes me hardcore.”

Man was I such a dumb kid.
That stuff only happens in my family.

However today was scary. Thankfully it wasn’t that bad though and I’m fine.
/rant off