Accidents, Illness, and More! Hooray!

Well suck my thumb and call me a pacifist, what a peaceful time to piss into the darkness. I hope they put that on my tombstone. I did almost die last weekend, so that’s pretty neat. I got T-boned by a Ford F-150 going 40 mph, sending my Subaru spinning into what I thought might be oblivion. I only saw the truck coming after it was too late, but I think being able to brace myself for just a moment helped me out a lot.

When a police officer came over and asked me if I was okay, I was shocked to say I was. I took inventory of my body and said “you know, I think so actually.” Luckily, the truck made contact with my car on the passenger side, and I was the only one in the vehicle. If I had a passenger in the back seat as I so often do, it likely would have spelled disaster. I was markedly sore the next day, but didn’t sustain any significant injuries.

I was obviously shaken up by the crash, but I never felt scared and more than anything I’m just grateful to be alive. Nobody wants to think about death, but I’m weird and my brain is weird and I think about everything too much, so I’ve thought about death a lot. I think it’s actually a healthy thing to do. Well, if you’re thinking about it with good intentions. It’s not good to think about death a lot if you’re thinking about creating it or something psychotic.

My point is, I’ve come to terms with my death, whenever it may be. I’m not afraid of it, I accept that I don’t really have control over when it happens, and I’m going to enjoy every moment of my life possible because you never know when it’s on to the next one. And I’m on to the next one. Somebody bring me back some money, please! This is a Jay-Z concert, now.

A lot of people believe that you only have one life and then you die and that’s it. I believed this for a long time myself, but even if it’s true I don’t find it to be conductive to a successful life. It’s too much pressure to try and pack everything in this one life and I think viewing at as a one-and-done scenario often leads us to taking ourselves and our lives too seriously. And that’s just no fun at all! Weeeeeeee suck my clit and call me Pam!

Section two of this blog post, written six days later: Well butter my biscuits and throw bread at my wedding cause this has been a week from hell. A couple days after the car accident I woke up with the worst sore throat of my life. I was shooting a new film called “Sucking Satan’s Cock” and all I can say is I did NOT recover well. I’m kidding, I didn’t shoot that movie, but that’s what it felt like.

I’ve hardly eaten anything in the last five days. It’s been a 9/10 on the pain scale every time I swallow. Drinking water is miserable. Eating is next to impossible. I have a bowl next to my bed full of mucus, because my body is producing so much of it that I have to constantly spit it out. I’ve been sleeping with a towel under my cheek because my saliva seeps out of my mouth like jelly from a cut donut. I squeeze raw honey into my mouth because it helps ever so slightly for a short period of time. I shove popsicles down my throat like a whore from the North. I never sleep for more than an hour at a time, struggling through the astral realm in a continuous sequence of ever-frightening nightmares. The pressure in my head never ceases, the pain in my throat continues on. The fever makes me sweat through the sheets and I fear being either awake or asleep because I don’t know which is worse.

ALLLLLRIGHTYYYYYYYY THENNNNNNN wasn’t that just a lovely description? I’d be lying if I said all of this had nothing to do with the accident. I’m sure the stress hasn’t helped my condition. I also have a habit of constantly taking the “I’m fine, it’s no big deal approach” rather than acknowledging the trauma I’ve endured. I convinced myself the accident wasn’t a big deal because I didn’t sustain any physical injuries, but mentally it was probably more traumatic than I care to admit. It was odd. It happened on a generally busy street, but on this day I appeared to be the only one on the road. Three lanes wide. Nobody behind me. Nobody in front of me. Seemingly no movement at all. It was quiet. Silent even. As if I was truly alone for a moment. Then WHAM! All of a sudden there were people around, asking me if I’m okay. I don’t know how they got there so fast. I don’t know where they came from. I don’t know if I was unconscious for a minute. It was peculiar to say the least.

I’m trying to figure out why this past week was given to me instead of asking “why did this happen to me?” I think everything happens for a reason and there’s a lot to be learned from this. I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s something. I think some part of me has to change. I’ve been feeling like I’m slowly pushing up against a wall of bricks and now it’s toppling over.

I have a habit of overwhelming myself and making things more difficult than they need to be. Couple that with being a highly sensitive person and taking on too much risk and I suppose you get this scenario. I definitely need more stability in my life. Comedy is as unstable as it gets. My work is unstable. I left all my friends and family to live alone. The person I’m closest to lives in another country.

Something has to give. I can’t have none of those things. I need at least one of: stable income, family, being with the person whom I’m most connected with… I’m proud of my inner strength and resolve but I’ve become too reliant on it. “It’s not a big deal, I can take on anything” can take you far, but often times there’s a big crash waiting for you. Maybe that’s what I’m supposed to take away from this. The crash was a warning sign.

I’m being reminded of a movie I watched on Netflix a couple months ago called “The Alpinist,” about a legendary mountain climber named Marc-André Leclerc who eventually died after being swept away by an avalanche. I was watching the film in awe of how this man was so fearless, taking on impossible after impossible task, continually pushing himself to do something more insane at every turn. At the same time, I knew how the story ended before I even got there. There’s just no way someone can survive that level of risk over and over.

I haven’t put myself in near as much danger as free climbing the most difficult mountains in the world, but I think there’s a lesson to be learned about balance versus risk. We can’t constantly be doing nothing but risk-taking. At the same time, we can’t constantly be doing nothing but playing it safe. There has to be some give and pull.

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