There’s a certain amount of woeful ignorance that’s to be expected when people get complacent in this world: our parents (yes mom, this means you), bosses (yes boss, this means you, too), teachers (there are way too many of you assholes to even name), and especially us. This makes it even worse when life throws a wild card at us.
Before leaving you, dear reader, up for grabs by the beast of confusion due to the lack of good explanation on my part, allow me to clarify a few things:
One, I’ve been away from my writing desk for nine months now.
Two, I didn’t die, but I did get hit by a police cruiser.
Three, I didn’t see it coming.
Well, I mean, I did see it coming because it was a head-on collision, but in all other ways, I didn’t see it coming.
Crapping your pants is an accident; sitting in it is the choice.
I’ve learned over the past nine months that people talk, and oh boy, do they talk often. They will give you all the solid advice in the world on how to handle your crisis. There’s only one problem with this epidemic, plaguing the minds of all those self-thinkers across the country, and that’s a simple truth: if you continue to indulge in all that attention, people will continue to talk.
After this incident, everyone was trying to help, and I used some of their help, too. But, after awhile, I started feeling like everyone looked at me like a helpless child, being at the mercy of this situation. This situation to which I refer was not laying up in a body cast or being left in the ICU for a few weeks while I made recovery. It was just watching as the situation unfolded itself around me. I was back at work the day of the accident, at school the following day as scheduled, and tried to carry on as normally as possible.
The wrong attention expels quite a bit of doubt when you’re trying to have a thought to yourself, and tragedy breeds a formulated gossip; that gossip breeds unrealistic expectations.
I’m introverted enough to know that my home is my castle. All the little conveniences I enjoy play a part in building this idea that I’m nearing completion just a bit more for every penny (or second) I don’t spend out in this world. This little construct, this delusional moat, surrounds my castle.
The confines of my home office are like a sanctuary, never to be broken by hither and thither that may come and go in this world however, there is always that off chance that something may happen. One cannot stay hidden in their shells forever, wild cards tend to make people stronger and more reliable, should something bad happen.
This just wasn’t the wildcard I was expecting.
“What do you do to get back up on your feet?” you may ask.
The answer is not simple, but can be for the sake of this small, potentially helpful little helping of dribble.
Do nothing irrational; do everything with tact.
Have you ever witnessed a hero who simply crumbles in the face of danger? At first, perhaps, but in time, just as with the development of any good story, the developing hero requires certain amounts of turmoil. This resistance to the goal they seek will harden them, better preparing them for what may come next.
So, who knows, I may get hit by a bus driver next time. At least then I won’t have to worry about all the legal red tape.
fingers crossed
Falling apart in the face of crisis is normal; giving up is the choice you make after falling apart.
Don’t give up, either. When you’ve traversed mountains, crossed oceans, or had to endure hearing about Janet(the office wench)’s bad line of boyfriends for the past six months, something even more sinister that could rock your world may be right around the corner. Don’t panic.
Ride the wave and leave Janet on the beach with her jaw agape; see the obstacle as just another thing that, no matter how long it takes, will only be a tick on the map of your journey.
As for me, I’m going back to my writing desk. I feel that atop everything else I must do, writing is something I have let go of too quickly. Besides, who else is going to roast the world?
And, just so everyone knows, the cop was fine. He got a medal of honor in the line of duty or a golden star or whatever cops get when they really screw up doing their jobs but somehow still did it right in the eyes of the government.
Quarterstories 
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