Late Life Or No Life

I usually work until five or five-thirty-ish. And since my father is also my employer, he'll try to finish up early if there's somewhere I need to be in the evening.

Today (well, yesterday) I had music practice at the church at seven. It's no big deal as long as I leave home by 6.30. But we were very nearly done the roof we were shingling, so we pushed the time limit... five... five-thirty... six... None of us thought to check the time. It was six-thirty by the time we left the jobsite.

My dad drove exactly right at the edge of the limit the entire way home. It's possible to do the drive to church in fifteen minutes if you go flat-out so if I could leave home by 6.45, I would still have a chance.

We got home. I changed, washed my face, grabbed the sandwich my mother handed me, and raced back out the door to the rattletrap.

Full disclosure: At the time of my story, I was doing five kilometres over the speed limit. It wasn't intentional; it was that thing where you know you're late and can't afford to go slower than the speed limit so you keep nudging the pedal farther down until suddenly you look down at the speedometer and go, Holy cow, slow down, Flash.

I had just noticed that I was five over the limit when in the sideview mirror I saw the minivan behind me pull out to pass. At first I was gearing up for a rant to share with my persnickety CD player -- I'm late too, so you can't make that excuse. Plus I'm already speeding. You're still going faster than the limit even following me. And you're STILL going to pass me? 

The rant was choked back when I saw the car in the oncoming lane. At first it looked like the passing minivan might just make it in front of me... but, oh my, were we closing in fast. Suddenly the car was almost directly in front of me.

As much as my pride wanted to keep my speed and let the Stupid Idiot Moron in the minivan have a heart attack and be forced to move back behind me until it was actually safe, I couldn't. I slammed on the brakes, if only for the sake of the poor guy in the car. As it was, he almost had to hit the ditch to avoid a collision.

The minivan slipped in front of me without even a touch on the brakes or a signal light. Just cruised on through as if she hadn't almost killed somebody -- or herself.

I expected myself to be angry, but I found myself strangely gutted.

How can anyone do something like that? We look in the newspapers at stories of murders and rapes and stabbings and violent kidnappings and ask how anybody can do such a thing, but taking a chance on the road just because the gas pedal isn't touching the floor yet is not that far removed. Someone almost died on that road tonight. It may have been the man in the car. Or it may have been the idiot driver herself. Yes, there may be enough room to pass, but are you willing to bet your life on it? Is getting where you need to be on time really more important than your own life? What good is being on time if you arrive as a newly minted corpse -- or murderer?

That woman in the minivan owes her life to me. I don't expect her to do anything to thank me, but I do hope she realises that. She gets to see another sunrise. And I could have taken that away from her by simply not moving my foot -- or by not even seeing her in my sideview mirror.

Just A Thought...

Isn't it ridiculous how no-one lets you do anything with your life until you've wasted four or more of the most promising years of it getting a piece of paper that says you are now 'qualified' to live your life now that it's four years shorter?

How To Spot An Idiot

'It's official... signal at 12:20 it even passed on TV. Facebook will start charging this summer. If you copy this on your wall your icon will turn blue and Facebook will be free for you. Please pass this message if not your count will be deleted. P.S. this is serious the icon turns blue, so please put this on your wall.'

Between 12.30 last night and 1.30 this afternoon, my Facebook news feed became flooded with this one post.
It's the official mark of stupidity -- the chain status/wall post/message/'like' page claiming that Facebook is going to start charging. It's full of misspellings, weird grammar, repetition, and things that don't even make sense (what does 'signal at 12:20' even mean? 'Your icon will turn blue'... what icon?)

First off, if Facebook was going to implement a major, major change such as charging money, they would send you an official message from the Facebook team through... Facebook (what a coincidence!). They've done it before; when they update the privacy settings for instance. If you log in one day and Facebook asks for money and you haven't heard anything about it, obviously you haven't checked your Facebook in like six months, therefore you don't use it often enough to bother keeping up the account, free or not.
Of course, a change like that would almost certainly hit the news, but I'm very sure every Facebook account holder would get the news directly from Facebook very far in advance.

Also, assuming this post was true, it would tell you which TV network it showed up on, wouldn't it? TV in this age includes thousands of channels. Just saying 'it was on TV' does not make your claim (or anyone else's) valid.

One more thing... no way on earth will posting a certain message on a certain webpage change an icon. It would require too much extra time to build the code to make that happen and then be able to launch it on several million accounts all at once. Even their message/chat integration thing was rolled out slowly over a period of at least six months. To write the code that would make a certain (unspecified) icon turn blue when a particular (highly unprofessionally written) status was posted would be more complicated then the message/chat integration and therefore would take at least as much time to roll out for everyone. It would not start working for everyone all at the same time as the status insinuates.

So next time you see one of these things and are tempted to repost it... don't. Think through it logically and then decide not to post it. Because if you do repost it, it will make you look a huge bumbling idiot to your family, your friends, your enemies who are your Facebook friends anyway, and that really cute, really smart guy (or girl) you have a huge crush on.

Another Rant

For the past two summers I have attempted to throw parties for varying reasons. Not a lot, usually only one per year. But a party nonetheless.
When I plan a party, it's all about the people. The more the merrier, even though I suffer from a hopeless case of social awkwardness. I love getting people together and listening to them talk and watching how they bounce off each other. Perhaps it's the writer in me, the people-watcher.
Since the object of the party is to get lots of people to congregate in the same general area, I tend to invite everyone who lives within an hour's drive of my house that I have any connection at all with. And I will use any means of communication that I can get my hands on that will get the message to them. If I had the self-confidence to do it, I would buy myself a megaphone and run through the streets at three am when people don't expect noise and are therefore more likely to hear it, yelling 'Barbecue party at Kate's on Saturday! One in the afternoon to eleven pm!' or whatever details are necessary.
But because I don't have the panache to pull that off, I use everything else that's available to me -- Facebook, email, cell phone, home phone, handwritten invitations, you name it, if I have their information for it I'll use it if needed.
Generally I start out with a Facebook event. Those who aren't on Facebook get an email. Those who don't have an email address (yes, those people do still exist) get a handwritten invitation with multiple ways of contacting me dropped by my own hand into their personal mailbox, or, in some cases, given directly to them. This is usually done at least a month and a half before the event is slated to take place, if not a month and a half before the RSVP deadline.
But guess what? It turns out everyone gets an email address, than a Facebook, Twitter, and Skype so they can stay in contact with friends and family (and of course to stalk every available redhead they meet who isn't me).
And then they never check the bloody things!
Do you see how stupid this is? Having a Facebook does nothing for if you don't check it at least once a week. Same goes for your email. And your cell phone. And your answering machine at home. I should not have to come personally to your house, sit you down in front of your calendar at gunpoint and demand to know whether or not you can or will come to the party. That's all I want -- a yes or a no.
I don't care if you say no. I might be a bit disappointed, but at least you had the decency to tell me you wouldn't be able to come instead of never saying anything and making me have to guess.
Because you know what?
It gets darn frustrating when every single person you invite has that exact same reaction. I can't plan to have a good amount of food (which is basically mandatory to all parties) if I have thirty-five freaking wildcards.
If you're not going to check your Facebook or your email and you're not going to reply to texts, voicemails, or handwritten invitations, you might as well go live in a cave because you're too important and self-fulfilled to need any other contact with any other humans and no, you're not allowed to bring your laptop with you because you obviously don't use it anyway no matter how much you say your life is wrapped up in it. If it was, I would have gotten a reply to my email/Facebook invite within a week of my sending it out.