Thanking the Universe Just Feels So Impersonal

I have never mourned the absence of religion in my life. But sometimes when something amazing happens I am left without a direction to send my gratitude towards.

I spent the weekend in San Diego and my flight home last night was delayed. This meant that I was arriving to my car at the airport at 12:30am, in freezing cold weather and snow falling thickly and steadily. I was on my way to get onto I-70 when my pathetic excuse for a car stalled out on me. In my frustration and panic, I pulled over to the left instead of the right, so instead of sitting on the shoulder, I was stuck in the middle of a road with surprisingly heave traffic flow, considering it was the middle of the gd night. I waited a couple minutes before trying to start the car again, and of course it didn't work.

I nearly started crying before I remembered that I was an adult, not a 16 year old clueless new driver, and I had my trusty AAA card with me. Also, I was wearing 4 thick layers and was more in danger of suffocating than freezing to death. I got my card out and just as I was reaching for my phone to call for a tow, something happened that restored my disappearing faith in humanity in general, and men specifically. (When you're in a program like mine, its hard to maintain the attitude that people are inherently good. And if you are unclear on my frustrations toward men, refer to my earlier post re: assholes).

Someone knocked on my window and I looked up to see a guy in a mechanic uniform pointing in front of my car, where he had parked his tow truck without my noticing him. I told him the problem and he was very friendly and didn't act at all like I was a brainless twit, even though I bet that's what he really thought. I told him he was welcome to try to start my car if he liked. And of course, even though I had tried to start it to no avail, as soon as he climbed in and turned the key it revved up like some new model right off the lot. Embarrassed but greatly relieved, I thanked him profusely and got back in and started back on my journey home.

But to add to my feelings of incompetence, my hazard light button had frozen so I couldn't turn them off. My best bet was to pretend it was on purpose so I stayed in the right lane and tried to drive slower than other people, so they might think I was being a careful driver, instead of a dumbass. About 10 minutes later my car finally warmed up enough that I could turn them off, at which point a truck behind me sped up and passed me. It was the tow truck driver. Not only had he saved me in the middle of the night and in the middle of the road but he had stayed behind me and made sure I was really ok before going on with his own business.

That was so god damn nice of him, and I was too flustered to even note the name on his uniform, or the name of his company! I remember thinking to myself Thank you god, for sending him to me. And then I was like "hold on mate, you don't believe in god" and then I went back to my standard thanking the universe in general when something lovely happened (I also blame the universe when something shitty happens--what was that 8 year Bush Administration thing about, UNIVERSE??) but it didn't feel quite as satisfying. I wish I could thank the actual tow truck guy.

Thanks, guy who saved me. I hope you get some sweet sweet karma coming your way soon.

A Small Voice

I wrote a note on facebook this morning because I wanted to frame an editorial I was posting that my dad wrote. Out came some anguish I've been carrying for the past few weeks and now I feel compelled to post it on my blog as well.

My thoughts on this subject are short but concise. Confused but heartfelt. Posted below my comments is the editorial my dad wrote.

This article doesn't even begin to go into the unfathomable treatment of the Palestinians at the hands of the Israelis. I have spent the last couple of months reading about the Holocaust and the fact that a people who claim the worst genocide in history could turn around and subject another people to decades of oppression baffles me to no end. I ache and ache for the Palestinians, and hope with all my heart that this "conflict" will be over soon. But I also hurt for the Jewish people of Israel, who have become so twisted and fierce as to believe that something constructive might come of their blowing other people all to hell. How do they not see the parallels between them and the Nazis? How is useless killing ever different, ever honorable and right, no matter what guise it is under?


http://www.dailycamera.com/news/2009/jan/06/going-blind-in-gaza/