25 September 2010

Blogging a Drive Home From College

In one of my literature classes, we were discussing how difficult it is to write in second person. In my grammar class, we were toying with present tense. I have decided to combine the both of them in a story that is not the slightest bit autobiographical. No, really, it isn't. *shifty eyes* Okay, maybe it is just a little bit autobiographical . . .

You are going to drive home tonight, despite the fact that you've only driven the road once before, it's pitch-black, and you have no sense of direction.

You don't change out of your work uniform because you're in a hurry to get home. You think your uniform makes you look like a ninja, a Russian anarchist ninja from the early 20th century. You think you take Russian history a little too seriously. You even think that you may read too much. You decide you don't read enough. You make a resolution to read as much as you did before you moved away to college. You know this will not happen.

You turn on your car's interior light to find your favorite Pink Floyd CD before pulling out of the dorm parking lot. You didn't get to celebrate going back to school with your annual tradition of listening to "Another Brick in the Wall." You feel like a substandard Pink Floyd fan. You quote to yourself Roger Waters' sarcastic line about feelings from "The Trial" and feel like a slightly more functioning Pink Floyd fan.

You drive along, not paying attention to the music, convinced you will take a wrong turn and end up stranded at night in the middle of nowhere in a somewhat malfunctioning car. You tell yourself you're being paranoid. You count the prepositional phrases in your inner thoughts because that's what you covered in grammar class. You are obsessed with prepositional phrases. You distract yourself by reviewing your day. You analyze each social interaction you had and decide that your true calling in life is to be a hermit.

You wonder why your car seems so bright. You think it is perhaps the moonlight. You see there is no moon. You realize you drove for nearly thirty minutes with your car's interior light on and was totally oblivious to it. You ponder how you have managed to stay alive for 21 years.

You get distracted when you hear Pink Floyd's "Pigs (Three Different Ones)" come on. You sing along. You tap your foot along to it, as well. You get so engrossed in it that you look up and realize you have no idea where you are. You look around for road signs. You see no road signs. You think about how very dark it is. You think about how despite the fact you're on a major road, it is pitch black because there are no other vehicles on the road. You lock the doors on your car repeatedly. You hear a clunk in your car and jump. You tell yourself you're being foolish. You re-lock the car again, just in case. You relax and sing another line. You re-lock the car one more time because you're obsessive like that. You re-lock it another time because that noise distracts you from the unidentifiable noise. You start to re-lock it again when you see your exit is up ahead. You didn't miss it. You just have no idea where it is because you've only driven this road once before. You re-lock the car once more because it's now a nervous tic.

You're finally on a road that you drove every day for two years. You think that you should be able to find your way home with no problem. You forget that you only drove the road at night a few times in that two years. You forget how terrible your eye-sight is. You underestimate how different the landscape looks at night. You shrug off the fact that more than anything else you want to pull over and take a nap.

You see a cop car's lights flashing on the side of the road. You become alarmed and automatically slam on your brakes, though you're not speeding. You grip the steering wheel tightly and hope you're not violating any traffic laws, none of which you can think of because you're too terrified of being pulled over at night in the middle of nowhere. You realize what you thought were cop car lights are actually random light reflections off of a mailbox. You feel somewhat stupid. You wonder why you're so scared of cops. You think that growing up in an area with a nasty reputation for police vigilantism may have something to do with it. You remind yourself that your severe anxiety disorder means you're slightly paranoid of everyone. You feel like Wade Duck from Garfield and Friends--you're scared of everything. You think that driving home from college by yourself at night might help you become less paranoid. You reflect on your journey, which is bringing you closer and closer to home, and decide that view is giving yourself too much credit. You realize you really miss reading Garfield everyday. You decide to get a newspaper subscription at college. You don't really check your mail enough to justify buying a newspaper subscription.

You pull onto the dirt road your family lives on. You know that home is only ten minutes away. You decide that since you've listened to the Floyd CD twice already, you'll turn it off and listen to the radio. You turn the radio on to a classic rock station that barely gets reception. You hear commercial after commercial but no classic rock. You get annoyed at the radio. You shout "Shut up!" at the radio after listening to 9.5 minutes worth of commercials and a truly obnoxious dee-jay. You calm down as the station then segues into a song. You become irritated as you realize the singer is Tom Petty. You do not like Tom Petty. You suffer through the Petty song anyway because you're pulling into your family's driveway and will turn off the car as soon as you park. You made it home it home in one piece. You think this is a cause for celebration. You try to ignore how silly that sounds as you walk into the house.

My apologies for my absence! My homework has been quite unmerciful lately. I have realized that my school schedule is meddling with my blogging. I have decided to start rotating between weekly posts on this blog and my book blog. So . . . next week I'll post a book review, but the next week, I'll post something here. I'll still be posting weekly, just not for each blog. :)


  1. I take the bus home, so I don't need to worry about how to get there. That said, the route between my college and my house is rather direct, so it is rather hard to get lost, although Penguins could probably still manage it :).

  2. LOL Zella. I shall pretend that I do not know exactly what you mean by running over social interactions in your head later, or locking the car door repetitively when nervous. Nope, no idea at all how that feels. x)
    Writing in second person *is* quite hard, but it certainly does add that unique feel to the writing!
    PS. Are you too busy at the moment to keep up with CC messages? If so, I understand.

  3. @The Chairman: I wish public transport were better developed in the U.S. I would so take advantage of it. Alas, where I live is a rural area, so unless you're driving, you're not going anywhere. Poor Penguins! She can ride with me . . . if my navigational abilities don't get us lost. :P

    @Feathery: Hehe My dear nerd twin, I wouldn't know anything about doing those things either. (Do you by any chance also obsessively walk back to your car after exiting it to see if it's locked? ^^)

    Yeah, I am a huge fan of second person, just because I enjoy the effect, but it is hard to do it without coming off really awkwardly. I want to play with this technique a little more.

    I was a little too busy this past couple of days--homework, thou art so cruel--but I am back to normal now. :D (There may be a message awaiting you as we speak. ^^)

  4. @Zella, Nope! There is no chance *whatsoever* that I go back and pull the handle to double check I've actually locked the car door! In fact, there is also no chance that I curse the car's alarm on a regular basis because it beeps loudly if I choose to click the lock button more than once just because. :S Yep, idea what you're talking about.
    *goes to check messages* :D

  5. I've driven the road between my school and my house...about once in my life? About two weeks ago. I bought my first carton of Oreos. It was a very expensive package, and considering the friends who came over, disappeared completely within an hour of being opened. :)

  6. Hope you don't mind me commenting. I've been a "lurker" for awhile - I actually first saw you on Sparknotes. Anyways, hi, I'm Kat (Katherine.)

    I lock and re-lock my doors all the time. I'm always convinced someone's following me. :P