Thursday, January 29, 2009

Vehicular Masturbation

Today I am driving to a meeting with my head hunter, attempting to get back on the horse and get a job because my wonderful husband of only three months casually mentioned/threatened that if I did not find something soon then I would just have to get a job at a restaurant and back to waitressing. Gasp the HOROR. That is the problem with marrying your soul mate; they are superb at pushing the exact right buttons to get you to do what they want. So with the fear of donning an apron again (I have 8 years experience putting myself through college with waitressing) and taking other peoples crap with a smile I am off to the meeting with the head hunter to attempt to get a real job. I would be lying if I did not feel the allure of sitting at home for a while, at taking advantage of the fact that I am currently unemployed. It would be nice to just take some time off and decompress, because when in our society is that EVER allowed. A little part of me is rejoicing that the job market is crappy, at least it is rejoicing for now; it may be much quieter if I have not found a job in two months.

Back to the driving, today it was in uncomfortably bad traffic for a Thursday afternoon. I was on my way to downtown and I began to wonder and daydream what it would be like move back to Michigan. Live in the country where cars do not get within 20 feet of each other, where people let you over when you turn on the blinker instead of shaking their head at your stupidity of letting them know ahead of time that you want to get over and as they speed up and give you the middle finger you know to never do that again, where everyone follows the speed limit and I am not left shaking with rage at least twice upon a drive somewhere. If I could just take most of the cars off the street here I think I would officially dub LA the most wonderful place in the world (oops, P.S. God could you also erase the smog).

After a half hour of slinking through barely moving traffic I come upon the cause of the slowdown on the expressway. There is an accident, which is nothing new because it is just like very other day on the LA expressways, but today it bugged me more than normal. As I watched everyone and their mother press on their breaks and crane their necks to view the vehicular carnage that was being cleaned up I am left super frustrated because I cannot understand the horrible morbid curiosity that draws people to stare at the wreckage. That person who was in that car is someone’s brother or sister, mother or father and people flock their eyes to watch the wreckage like vultures feeding upon these peoples misery as if it was some show on CSI. Are we just happy it is not us, are we all just voyeurs at heart, or do some people truly get a kick out of other peoples pain.

Beside the fact that I think it is rude and inhumane to stare I also hate the fact that because of other peoples morbid curiosity I am delayed in getting to where I want to be, not because of the actual accident but because the fan club are slowing down to see everything they can in the two point five seconds it takes for them to drive by. If people would just mind their own business then we can all get on with our lives and let them rebuild their own.

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