Or, if I may pillage the quotes file for the addendum:

Gabrielle: "Some people say the unexamined life is not worth living."

Xena: "Those people haven't lived my life."

A response ambiguous enough in its potential for dual interpretation, that it could warrant an essay of its own. But I think that stone is better left unturned. (Insert clever pun about that not being the only aspact of the show which allows for "dual" interpretation. It's been done before.)

Did I initiate this rambling so I could babble and reminisce aimlessly about a has-been tv show that is no longer on the air, has no DVD release in sight, and reruns not even being syndicated in the U.S. (at least not in a format that is acceptable for viewing)? Anyone who has read the crap I write for very long might rightly believe it would be well within my repertoire to do such a thing, but in this case, the answer is no. I did not. ("What was the question again?")

I initiated this rambling so I could write about my life. That is to say, so I could write about nothing. Nothing at all, except for the nothing that happened this evening.

After work, I went to Boulder to give Tobias a bath. (Uh oh, how many times has the phrase "give Tobias a bath" been used here before? It gets older and more stale with each iteration, doesn't it? The thought that it was already pretty stupid the first time makes it even worse.)

In a fresh clean car, having driven but a few blocks, I narrowly missed an accident by less than a meter. Had it happened, it would have been entirely my fault. But it didn't. I was lucky. And I felt very, very stupid. A micro-second lapse in... something. Where was my mind? That brief instant of incompetence could have been disasterous. (Physically? Not likely in this case, given the very low velocities involved. But in terms of property damage, insurance rates, and personal humiliation, it certainly wouldn't have been fun.)

Mentally stunned from what had happened, I cautiously let my adrenaline-powered nervous system guide the car a few blocks until I could park in a suitable spot, and allow myself to regroup mentally. I concluded that I was going to be fine. I was alright. Luckily, no loss had been suffered, excepting the heavy dent in my self-confidence, and the heavy self-questioning of my facilities which would follow.

I decided it would be best to wait a few minutes before driving again, and so I got out, and took a stroll down Pearl Street, where I had been thinking about going anyway. Ate a nice little supper at Panera Bread. I thought about what had happened, and concluded that the circumstances preceding the near-miss were unusual enough to send the lower brain (which runs the car while I think about other stuff) into confusion, and the conscious, decision making part of the brain didn't kick in quite fast enough to do the right thing. In other words, I was daydreaming, which would generally be OK, except the traffic situation was hectic enough that I really should have been paying more conscious attention than I was.

Satisfied that I at least knew what had caused the lapse, yet still disgusted with myself for it, I decided I was ready to get back on my feet, metaphorically speaking. With my nervous system mostly restored, I returned to the car, and was gratified to find that my driving ability was as good as ever. In fact, it was probably even better than normal due to a piqued alertness after the shakeup.

Details? Ugggh. It's so stupid and embarrassing that I'd almost rather not say anything further. But that would be poor content farming sportsmanship. If you build up that much, you gotta deliver, so... Here's the story:

Driving east down Canyon Boulevard, just past Broadway. I remembered that I needed to drop my netflix disc in a mail box, so I decided to swing by the post office on Walnut since it was so close by. Maybe I could also stop and grab something at Illegal Pete's on Pearl Street too, since I hadn't been there in a while. I got in the left turn lane in preparation to head a block north on 13th.

There was 1 car ahead of me turning left. No arrow light present, and lots of traffic coming the other way. I concluded that I might have to wait through a red before I could legally enter the intersection. (Unless I did like those nasty people do, and try to tail through behind the car in front of me as the yellow turns to red.)

"But wait, the vehicle on the other side of the intersection is stopping, even though the light is still green. Ahh, it's because traffic to the next light is so backed up, that they wouldn't be able to clear the intersection in time. (Welcome to Boulder.)"

The car in front of me took advantage of the situation, and proceeded to make the left turn while the car on the other side waited. I entered the intersection, with the light still totally green. The car on the other side held its position, since the traffic the was still backed up. I waited a moment to see if they wanted to try to squeeze through. They made no move, apparently letting me through, so I proceeded to accelerate and turn to the left.

I'm not sure whether I saw or heard it first. The screeching of breaks and tires on the pavement. Another SUV-like thing a few inches away from the side of my bumper. I slammed the breaks. No contact. It was a car from the other lane. Apparently, this one had decided it could make it through the intersection (was there more room ahead in the other lane?), and, perhaps oblivious, was not doing the same thing as the car who was letting me through. Well, he (or she? I don't know) did have the right of way. I should have paid more attention to both lanes.

Two cars, stopped inches away from each other in the intersection. The light was turning red. No contact between vehicles had been made, so technically, it wasn't an accident. I was in a more immediate position to maneuver. The other car was now stopped completely, and not making any move. So I gathered my wits, and proceeded out of the intersection. The other car did the same, and went on its way. (I suspect the driver was utturing a few curses, though I didn't hear them.)

Boom. That's that. Had it happened, I would have been at fault, since I was turning left, and the light was undoubtedly green for both directions. Much soul searching regarding my driving ability followed. A split second of lapse on a road travelling at higher speeds, and it could lead to fatalities. These are dangerous machines we barrel around in every day. The driver's manual is right. Absolute alertness is required at all times.

...

On a whim, I stopped at the library before coming home. No particular reason, except that "there's books there!" :)

I strolled through the shelves, and without consulting the card catalog or doing anything sensible like that, I picked out a book completely at random and started reading it. Given the quality of the title I happened upon, I almost have to wonder if some supernatural force was guiding my hand. (Or maybe it didn't matter, because all the books are that good. Somehow, past experience leads me to doubt it.)

Passion: An Essay on Personality by Roberto Mangabeira Unger. (Link for the interested. I might be.)

I promptly skipped past the 90 page introduction, and started to dig into the meat, having little clue what it would be about, except that the description on the jacket had sounded interesting.

In reading this, I found that frequently, the bottleneck to processing not reside in my visual language parser, but in other parts of the wetware. The grammer and use of words was thick enough that many paragraphs required a second reading in order for comprehension to take place. But the subject matter... fascinating!

I read, and I saw myself in those pages. I saw my life. What it is now. What it has been. I wish I had a copy on hand so I could quote a few passages. (I didn't check it out because (a) I lack a Boulder library card (lost the one I had a long time ago; I know, I should get another one, but...), and (b) my trips to Boulder are fairly infrequent these days, so returning it might be a bit of a hassle, and (c) sometimes, trying to read things at home just doesn't have the same magic as reading in the library. This may well have something to do with CRTs and potential for distraction, but this parentheses is running too long to elaborate further here.)

Reading and contemplating those pages, I found a sort of self-realization that I haven't experienced in a long time. Though sometimes, the truth hurts.

Time passed much more quickly than it should have, and it came time for the library to close. I jotted down the author and title of the book, knowing I'd never remember that name otherwise, and returned home.

I put in my Queensryche DVD, and decided that my taste in sound volume for the evening would be best suited for headphones (while I think it fun idea to induce the walls of my apartment to shake all the way to the building's foundation, I doubt the neighbors would share my desire to go deaf before the age of 30). I actively listened to various selections for about an hour. A wild unscientific estimate says that levels peaked at 105 decibals, confined to the highly localized area surrounding each of my ears. My soul drank it in. Afterward, my ears were ringing. They still are, just a bit.

Routine requires that I let go of consciousness in the very near future. I have had my diversion, and I shall have more before I have less. Of what is this freedom you speak? It is on the horizon. I can feel it. I can sense it. Always on the horizon. Always just out of reach. But not forever?

Maybe just one more song or two before bed.