20050728

Vocabulary

I just wrote an email to Ducky (hehheh, I remembered the name I've given him for blogging purposes). In it I used the word "liable" as in "right now I'm liable to accept a card board box." In other words, my mind is mush right now, too much going on in there even for me.

Well, after I sent the email, I realized that "liable" is actually another word for "accountable." So I thought, "But, that doesn't make sense in my sentence then, does it?" So I looked it up and as usual, I'm sitting here using words without thinking about it, wondering if I used them right, and then finding out I did.

Also, I never thought about it, but liable, apt, and likely are also stored properly in my head. I wondered if "apt" was a better choice but thought no, because I'm not always like this, usually I think better than this and wouldn't just go around accepting cardboard boxes. Yet, I didn't understand why that made a difference until I read Dictionary.com's Usage Note about the word 'liable.' And I didn't want to use likely (even before reading that usage note) because it didn't seem to have the same "negative" connotation associated with it in my head as "liable" did.

Amazing how we learn language and don't even realize it... I don't know where a lot of my vocabulary really comes from, either, unless it's because my mom uses big words a lot. Or maybe just because I used to read the dictionary. I dunno, but I don't exactly read a lot these days, and even if I did, that wouldn't explain my excellent spelling skills, because today's literature is FULL of typos. Where does my vocabulary come from? Where?! It really isn't that down there, for sure... otherwise, I wouldn't have to constantly repeat myself in new terms with so many people who don't know what the heck I'm talking about. The worst part is, I've been talking in "big words" for as long as I can remember - even in elementary school, I recall teachers and students commenting that my vocabulary was fairly good for someone my age.

Anyway, the Dictionary.com entry I'm referring to:

Usage Note: Liable, apt, and likely are often used interchangeably in constructions with infinitives, as in Zach is liable to lose, Zach is apt to lose, and Zach is likely to lose, but the three words have subtle distinctions in meaning. A traditional rule holds that liable should be used only if the subject would be adversely affected by the outcome expressed by the infinitive. The rule therefore permits Tim is liable to fall out of his chair if he doesn't sit up straight but not The chair is liable to be slippery, though constructions of the latter type have long been common in reputable writing. ·Apt usually suggests that the subject has a natural tendency enhancing the probability of an outcome and that the speaker is somewhat apprehensive about the outcome. Thus apt is more naturally used in a sentence like The fuel pump is apt to give out at any minute than in Even the clearest instructions are apt to be misinterpreted by those idiots (since the instructions are not at fault) or in The fuel pump is apt to give you no problems for the life of the car (since there is no reason that the speaker should regard such an outcome as unfortunate). ·Likely is more general than either liable or apt. It ascribes no particular property to the subject that would enhance the probability of the outcome. Thus, while John is apt to lose the election may suggest that the loss will result from something John does or fails to do, John is likely to lose the election does not. Nor does it suggest anything about the desirability of the outcome from the point of view of either the speaker or the subject. See Usage Note at likely.

20050718

How our lives change!

Duck and I briefly chatted about how our lives have changed since we've met each other. (From this point on, "Duck" will be a pseudo for my boyfriend.) He thought perhaps mine changed even more than his, and I agreed. However, I had to admit it's not just him that has caused my life to be so awesomely modified from its former existence. I did, after all, get a new attitude months ago, and I also got Dante about the same time as he and I were settling into this wonderful relationship. The attitude means freedom from the world's judgements and demands, and Dante means freedom from my apartment. I can go anywhere, do so much more, now that I have a vehicle. BUT... Duck pointed out some places I could go: Hiking trails, his place, table tennis, and long, scenic drives around the area. Previously the only real places I knew of that I could go was rock climbing with my friends and visiting people and going shopping and to local concerts. Hiking was on my agenda, but I had no clue how to find the trails and was barely asking people when lo, Duck's into hiking of all things!!

And as I've become interested in all sorts of new things, I've slowly begun to feel as if I not only exist, but that I'm... actually... acting... normal! Yes, ladies and germs and geeks from all walks of life, this geekchick is somehow depriving herself of her computers long enough to walk out into the open airs of normalcy and put herself on display for all to see as she hikes through rocky trails, slurps ice cream in the park, dances at concerts, eats at restaurants, goes through drive-thrus, plays table tennis and miniature golf, climbs rocks, and drives around to her heart's delight!! I've joined... /activities/!!

Perhaps the scariest thing about my life now is that Duck himself seems normal. I mean, he's dating ME, so there must be something abnormal about him (*giggle*) but he's been into all sorts of activity stuff for so long that it's all just fun to him. He's simply (?) added me to the mix. And I'll tell you, with me around, you never know what's going to happen! So I'm sure he thinks HIS life has /really/ changed, even though I'm only one person and for the most part, it's probably safe to say his activities haven't suffered too much. Imagine, though, how enhanced my own life has become since he's been in it. Words don't dare to describe it for so many reasons!

So earlier today I was sitting here staring at the computers, critters, and plants, and thinking, "I feel different. I've been feeling different. It's a free feeling, and a happy one, and of course there's the Duck-related feelings. But there's something else. What is it?"

I feel normal. That's it. For the first time in my entire life, I understand how it feels to be normal. (Or at least close to it, lol.)

Imagine, me feeling normal. How strange. But that's what it is. It must be. Not that normal has any definite meaning, but to me it means going out into the world and doing things, whether trivial or large-scale. It's working for a living, knowing people, doing stuff, hanging out, and figuring out what one's life is all about. And this year, I've been doing that. I'm no longer hiding behind a monitor, and what I've endeavored to do has come to fruition. It's now time to set even higher goals for myself. Haven't figured those out yet of course, but I know I'll be able to attain them, whatever they are. LOL.

Here ends this overly-thought-out post. Happy Harmonies, everyone.

~nv

20050717

Sports... suck?

My overall opinion of sports was formed by three things: Mom's opinion that only smelly, sweaty, dumb jocks played them; my experience with people trampling me whenever I was in gym class; and an utter lack of understanding for any of them. The few sports I /did/ watch were mostly "minor" ones: Figure skating, skateboarding, car racing, tennis, and the one Mom /really/ hated due to squeaky sneakers on slick court floors - basketball. Still I knew nothing much about the actual sports I watched, just that they held my attention much more than things like Hockey, Golf, Football, and Baseball.

Fast forward over the past decade. All these years I've continued to hold the opinion that sports suck, and what do I do? I start dating a guy who's into sports!! At first I didn't fully understand how he could be since he's not smelly, sweaty, or dumb - not by a longshot. He isn't loud, boisterous, or the stereotypical womanizer going after cheerleaders. What gives?

I figured my opinions were grossly misinformed and unfair. So I followed him to a table tennis game. He explained the rules, the skills needed to make the ball do certain things, and the physics behind it all. Interesting enough. He jumped into the game then, and as I watched the concentration on his face, and the movements he made, I realized that despite the game's simple appearance, this was not a simple game of pass-the-ball. When I got a chance to play also, my realization was settled. This was not as easy as it looked! It is, however, quite fun. I was hooked.

Next up was golf, one of his favourites. Golf is one of the few sports I had actually thought about before judging it to be stupid. I could never understand why people would want to stand outside beneath the hot sun and chase after little balls they attempted to hit into little holes in the ground. But after seeing how fun table tennis was, I figured my boyfriend must have his reasons for enjoying the whole experience. And, I do admit that I'd played MINI golf once and really enjoyed it. Well, I won't ever get into regular golf. I now appreciate the physics behind it, and I can now watch it on TV and enjoy the skills I see. I also share in his excitement over how he and his buddies do on any given day. However, that's as far as it will ever go. I still don't like the idea of walking miles under a hot sun or chasing after little balls, and that happens to be what the game is all about! Miniature golf, on the other hand... an hour, maybe two, on a little tiny course with all sorts of interesting holes... yeah, now THAT is my idea of a fun outdoor sport!! I get all the perks - some time outdoors, the challenge of aiming the ball, hitting it just right, the strategies required to get around the astroturf's inconsistencies, curvature in the ground, and seeing through the hair that's always finding its way into my eyes. FUN! And luckily for me, he enjoys miniature golf also. It might not offer the same types of challenges to him as the other form of golf does, but he enjoys the creativity behind the various holes, and the newer challenges introduced by them. (This is one of the things I really really love about this guy - he's into so much with so little bias that we can /always/ find something to do together which we both enjoy.)

Another of my favourite sports (at least to watch) is car racing. Most people know it as Nascar. I don't care if it's Nascar or something local. The idea is this: A bunch of vehicles race around and around for a while at rather high speeds and attempt to pass each other to gain the lead without smashing into each other and causing accidents. Even before understanding the physics and reasons behind the aerodynamics, tire pressure, sheet metal, plastic-filmed windshields and mesh windows, I was attracted to racing. This is actually kind of ironic to me. First, they go around in circles, over and over and over. Second, until recently, I was probably one of _the_ most nervous drivers on the face of the planet. Watching cars race at high speeds is like watching a suspenseful movie where some guy hijacks a school bus and is chased by a bunch of police cars for an hour. I can barely go around a gentle curve at 40mph. How can I endure the sight of cars travelling around tight corners at speeds in excess of 100mph?! Yet it's exhilarating! And now that I drive, I can appreciate the subtleties in speeds, steering, and control. And after we went to a local race, I found it a hundred times more exciting. Being there is far better than watching it on TV, let me tell you. You get to feel the rumbling of the tires pounding over the ground. The smell of rubber and spins is everywhere. Engines pour their sounds into the airwaves. Smoke occasionally kicks up and fills your nostrils. The barely-audible booming of the loudspeakers rattles your eardrums. You get to eat Fried Dough and french fries. You can focus your attention on any part of the track, not on whatever part the cameras decide to show you. Indeed, TV doesn't do it justice.

Finally, there's baseball. I've yet to watch a full game, but since I've yet to learn the rules and skills behind it all, I know that one day I'll fully appreciate baseball, too.

It seems, then, that my previous views about sports were pretty much unfounded. Perhaps some or even many jocks fit into the stereotypes I was exposed to, but I now know that sports are not only for people of that type. There is actually a lot of science, skill, and excitement involved in many of these things. Perhaps this is why us humans have included sports and games in our lives for so long.

20050715

Leave the singing to the stars

I've been listening to Martin Page today, since yesterday I had the inclination to do so but for some reason never did ever get around to it. I forget exactly what spawned my interest in his music again. It had been months since I last thought of his CD sitting in that drawer. I only know that it was something that occurred while I was with my boyfriend.

Well, there's a song Martin did called "I Was Made For You" and it /almost/ pushed a poem out of me. While listening to the soulful emotion in his voice, I heard him sing, "What are these arms for if I can't hold you through the night? What does this heart beat for if I can't lay by your side? You must know, I was made for you." The lyrics themselves never struck me as so absolutely beautiful before! They're so simple! Yet it dawned on me today how simplicity is often the only necessary means to express something so profoundly emotional. I've been struggling with my own poetry, knowing that no matter what I write, it doesn't fully express how I feel about someone so special in my life. There are no really illustrious words that could ever convey these feelings to anyone who did not already understand them.

Martin Page couldn't convey them, either. His simple, yet concise, choice of words came across to me only as a strong feeling that invoked tears within my heart until today. The only hint of emotion I could fully grasp was the reverberations within his voice. This alone was so powerful that my heart would always attempt to catch up to them, saddened that it couldn't understand how they could be so heavy yet float right past as if in their own world.

But I do understand now. The only reason I understand is because I've been experiencing the feeling first-hand. If I could sing and sing well, my own voice would soar above the skies and carry on it the emotion of love. It would convey everything Martin's voice does. And I know that the only people who would fully appreciate it would be the people who have had the utmost pleasure in finding themselves caught up in the same feeling.

"What are these arms for if I can't hold you through the night? What does this heart beat for if I can't lay by your side? You must know, I was made for you." How often in the past few months have I "heard" these lyrics in our eyes? How often have I felt the need to crawl into his chest and snuggle up next to his heart, knowing I cannot (for obvious physical reasons), settling for laying by his side instead, resting my head upon his chest, listening to his heart calling to me, thumping out my name? How often have I felt so close to him as he's simply held me late at night, under no pretenses or guises? How often have we noticed the "perfect fit" between us, like interlocking pieces of a two-piece puzzle? There is no doubt why my mind finally caught these lyrics for what they are. The emotions began to grab. I heard no words at first. And then my memory kicked in and the emotions attached themselves to the words more and more until I finally heard those three simple lines. The song... is... us. Right here, right now. No longer does my heart soar with the song part-way until it loses the scent of the chase. It has found the cause behind it. My heart sings its own song. Yet I realized in a split-second that we are not exactly great singers ourselves. As Martin sang those lines, I thought briefly that it was my boyfriend. Definitely not his forté, I'm sure. For a briefer moment I was slightly disappointed that he could never sing to me like that! Yet upon this very thought, I wondered why I'd entertain that thought at all. Am I happy with him as he is? Absolutely. Do I love him for who he is? Yes, I do. Am I glad to spend every possible moment with him? Yes, I am. Is there more than enough personality in him to pique my interests time and time again? Yes, there is!! He is the most interesting, happy, honest, funloving person I have ever met. He knows himself very well. He's smart. He's kind and sweet and caring and interested in so many things I can scarcely keep up. He does not compete in any of his sports. He plays for fun and to better himself. He gets excited when he does well and is happy when others do well, too. He's positive and upbeat. He's demonstrated to me the value of each sport he loves, not by arguing any points but by inviting me to be open minded and watch his joy. No, it does not matter to me whether his voice can soar into the skies or not, because his whole being is already there.

Well, Martin's song /almost/ pushed a poem out of me, I said. Truth is, as I thought all this in a split second, I came up with but a fleeting single line. The shortest "poem" I've ever written, it was all I needed to express myself at that moment in time: "Leave the singing to the stars."

I now end this post with the song's complete lyrics.

I WAS MADE FOR YOU
by Martin Page
(copyright 1995)

Take this man who comes to you, take me to your side.
I throw away my soulless days; I need you in my life.
In the doorway of my heart, the presence of you shines.
So put your face to my window; trust what you see inside.

What are these hands for if I can't bring you fallen rain?
What are these eyes for if I can't see the moon watch over you?
What are these arms for if I can't hold you through the night?
What does this heart beat for, if I can't lay by your side?
You must know, I was made for you. (Yeah.)

I'll meet you by the wisdom tree and I'll hold you so close.
Come on out of the wilderness.
Let love free you from your ghosts.

What are these hands for if I can't bring you fallen rain?
What are these eyes for if I can't see the moon watch over you?
What are these arms for if I can't hold you through the night?
What does this heart beat for, if I can't lay by your side?
You must know, I was made for you.

We'll walk upon the hill, so high above the city, and count the rooftops down below.
Lay on the grass, dream out loud.
Catch runaway trains, dance in the rain.
Someday, you'll take my name.

Kneel down in the moonlight.
Let your hair fall down around.
Blow out all your candles tonight, and I believe you will see I was made for you.

What are these hands for?

What are these arms for if I can't hold you through the night?
What does this heart beat for if I can't lay by your side?
You must know, I was made for you.
Ohhh...

Gonna bring you fallen rain.

20050712

credit sucks, but trucks RULE!!

I was denied credit again by citibank due to, what was it they said... *reading* Ah. Here it is: "no revolving accounts with a balance." Whatever that means. So after dickering with the transunion site for a while and being denied a credit report because I don't know where I work (whatEVER) or what my toyota account is (repeat: like, whatEVER), I called for the third time and finally figured out there was a final option I kept missing due to impatience.

Impatient? Me? Nahh... *nodding vehemently despite negative assertion*

SO... I'm getting a copy of it within the next couple weeks. Meamthinking that next time I stop into my bank, I'll also ask them how the heck I can establish credit for myself. Maybe I'm just being too impatient. (Maybe?) My Arian and/or geeky nature doesn't understand gray areas when it comes to numbers. It's either on or off, a one or a zero! But anywho, I /am/ going to figure this out, that much I've decided.

AND

I called the autobody shop where Dante is right now and asked about an oil/filter change. The guy told me they'd do that and asked what I had over there. When I told him my name and what the truck is, he said, "Ohhhh, yeah, I know that one." I thought, "You know Dante? Oh! You mean you've seen Dante in the shop... prolly drooled on him, no doubt... these guys..." but I didn't say anything, I was just happy he didn't sound discouraged when he said that. It was a happy tone, not one of doom, so no matter what he was thinking it wasn't like the truck was in deep doo-doo or anything which of course is good.

Oh! Anyway, they're going to change my oil and filter for me. I also asked them to look at the bumper (I put four little boo-boos in that over a month ago when I backed into a lowlying bit of concrete) and he said they'll call me back with an estimate on how much that might cost to fix for me. They are soooooooo super nice. I love that place!! Methinks I might have meself a garage. How lucky is that, to find one so quickly? Everyone's always told me that likable garages are hard to find. But imagine! Little me dragging my truck to a garage for service!! I was thinking on the way home how weird it is, me driving. Less than a year ago I was still kinda thinking maybe I didn't need or want a license let alone a vehicle. Now I wouldn't know what to do without both!! My decision to get it was actually a bit sudden, maybe around November... thought to meself, "Self, you're 27, you're going to get your license before you turn 28, and if you save enough, you might just get a truck for your birthday." Funny how that kind of decision just settles into oneself, huh? Nervous driver, I was, though. Now it's second nature. Amazing. I need to keep this in mind next time I get rattled about not being good at something immediately. Some things really do require practice!

Now... hopefully that woman who backed into me last week will practice HER driving skills a little bit more and not repeat her mistake...

I'm just sooooo happy that Dante is all right and will be all right and I'll be getting him back soon. I'm currently driving a little Dodge Stratus and, don't tell it this, but that car is NO comparison to my truck! It does have a few advantages, I admit. Such as its turning radius is much tighter than Dante's. I mean, the thing is WICKED easy to park. And being low to the ground does have one advantage over being up high - when a box truck parks in your line of traffic-view, you can see UNDER him and thus figure out when you can turn. I would have been there forever with Dante because he couldn't have seen over OR under that box truck. The tires also handle better, and it can corner faster without feeling like it'll tip over. Also, it's front-wheel drive, so the tires don't spin in the sand when I'm going around a certain corner near where I live.

BUT... I hate driving it at night and in the rain. At night it's too low and I can't see the lines on the road (exactly why I got the truck in the first place). Almost ended up going in a circle the other night because I ended up in the left-turn lane! And in the rain, the back window, when not covered in slowly dribbling rain, fogs all up. I can't see out of it whatsoever. To make things worse, the tail end is somehow higher so I have to use the rearview mirror to make SURE nothing's hiding behind the back end. Dante doesn't have ANY rear window visibility problems despite his long rear end. Like, ever. Then again, I guess I was prepared for backing issues with him, so I overcompensate and thus don't think much of it. The Stratus also guzzles gas - more than Dante in fact, and I'm serious... I /know/ this thing eats more gas than Dante does, I don't care if it's a car, truck, or what!

The front windshield glares more, it's harder to see through the rain (probably not treated with rainx is why), and accelerate means nothing to this beast. I tried flooring it just to see if it would respond to ANYTHING and found I already /was/ flooring it. I was only doing 40. The thing crawls along until it gets used to the idea and then it slowly builds up speed and becomes a bit more responsive. Weirdest car I've ever driven, now that I've gotten to know it a bit better. It's been a great experience but I can't wait to get Dante back from that shop. Man, I'm taking him for a nice long drive as a reward to both of us for putting up with this separation.

Okay, okay, even if Dante had any thoughts on the matter he'd probably be happy being doted on by those nice body shop people and not miss me one bit, but... egads, I sure do miss him. Best vehicle I've ever driven despite the parking difficulties!

Well, I got other stuff to do (not even writing-related, either) so I'm gonna skedaddle. Later laters!

~nv

20050711

Cool Program - PixResizer

Okay, now, this is THE program of all programs. Well, okay, so maybe it's AMONGST the programs of all programs. Regardless, it's awesome. The program is called PIXResizer, available at snapfiles.com and I'm sure others. It works!!

I was going through a whole bunch of pictures from my last vacation and was manually resizing the ones I wanted to eventually throw onto my website. There's a slight problem there. I have a _lot_ of pictures! If I wanted to really do right by my website, I'd have thumbnails AND somewhat larger images for people to open up if they WANTED to use up their (and my) bandwidth. This of course means that I /should/ be creating two new copies of each picture I wish to put on the site. Yeah, right! With MY photo editor?! I think not. I love it dearly (Photo Express, it came with my old Jazz camera), but resizing means opening every single picture, changing to pixels, typing in the width (luckily it defaults to locking ratio), applying, saving, confirming saving to lossy images, and closing that pic to get to another one. Ha. I don't THINK so.

Enter my search for a program to do it for me, quickly, efficiently, and EASILY. I'm not stupid, I know that. It's not that I couldn't figure out some alternate way to do it myself. But with all the computer stuff I /do/ know, I don't exactly have the time to do something tedious and waste my resources when there are more pressing, interesting, and/or fun things to do (such as writing about cool programs in my blog and eating peanut butter creme Oreo's out of a cup full of milk).

The program is indeed easy. You open it up, select "multiple files" (at least for my purposes), select the folder where the pics are you want resized (it even has an option for subfolders! yikes, be still my beating heart!!), select a folder to put the new ones in (you can even make a new folder there!) and then specify what size you want them to become.

Not ONLY does it do everything for you within a minute (I resized 510 pictures from 1280x960 pixels to 640x480 pixels in approximately 30 seconds), BUT... get THIS... it's so smart, it even made sure that my portrait pictures (960x1280 pixels) were resized proportionately - i.e., to 480x640!! It realized the pictures were not all oriented the same and simply swapped the numbers around for me!!

The best part of this program is that it's FREE.

I've often been impressed by free programs, and this one is certainly one of them. It's going into my list of staple programs and onto my specialized CDs full of goodies. Gotta keep these things readily available, you know! :)

Perfect Pictures,

~nv

20050703

That b*@&% hit my truck!!

I had a friend over for the evening, he left around 10pm, bf called around 11:15pm to say his racing games were over, and I was finishing up some diskettes so I left around midnight to go see him as we were planning a morning bike ride and it would be easier just to stay over his place.

But as I was driving through the parking lot I happened to see movement to my right front and glanced over to see this little white Nissan Ultima backing out. I thought, "What the... hello? I'm right behind you!" Then she kept backing out! It all seemed like slow motion but it must have happened so fast, my thoughts were all jumbled, I'm thinking, "What the F*@(? Why are they STILL backing out? They're not supposed to do that, they're supposed to stop, they can't keep backing out, I'm right behin--" *smack* DAMMIT!! So much for my assertion that they can't do that...

So I'm like, ripping mad, and I stop Dante, and park him right there, and after two seconds of collecting myself time I get out, and she's already out of her vehicle, and I'm already muttering to myself, great, just great, this sucks, three months old and he's already been in an accident. I walk around the truck to the passenger's side and there's this huge splotchy short streak of white all over the bottom of Dante's half-door. And a rather noticeable dent. (Of course my innards are screaming but I held my cool while my legs were shaking out from under me and I was trying to think of what to do.) So I open that side and grab all my information out of the glove compartment or whatever and my gas mileage book because I'd written down everything you're supposed to do in an accident in the back of it. So while she's writing down information for us, I start calling police (that IS what you're /supposed/ to do, according to my book) and she's like, "What are you doing?" I tell her and she starts getting all hissy and is like, "Look, I've got a little daughter in the car, she's very tired, she needs to go to bed, can't we just exchange information?" I protest, and she keeps at me about it, so I say, "Okay, fine, one second, I'm calling someone else." So I call bf, explain the situation, and he agrees I SHOULD call police, it sounds to him like she's being unreasonable and I should protect myself no matter what she's saying. So I apologize to her and say I really do feel I need to call them and I do so while she's still arguing that it'll take them an hour to get there and we'll be there another hour and her daughter's tired and... it dawned on me she had a DAUGHTER in the car and I'm sitting there thinking omg is she all right but I figured she must be otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation and WTF? That bi*#( hit my baby!! Who the he** does she think she is, telling me what I should or shouldn't do when she's the one who backed into my baby?! She HURT him!! And she's a mother of all things!! And while we waited for police and I was still checking the book to make sure we got everything covered, she went over to her car and her girl was crying about being tired and she says, "Please don't do this, we can't leave yet, we've been in an accident." I heard the girl mumble something about "Why aren't the police here?" and she replies, "They've been called." (almost as if the girl's used to this sort of thing?)

In the meantime, bf said he'd come over. So I was waiting for him AND the police. And this big white vehicle pulls in, stops in front of me, and finally turns around. I figure I'm in the way (I tend to drive near the middle of the road in this parking lot so I can see kids running around vehicles better, which makes this even worse - she STILL hit me with all that space!!) so I get back in the truck and move Dante into a very close parking space. I get out and this other woman, apparently a friend or relative of the woman who hit me, comes over and seems all irritated and mad and says, "Oh, are you supposed to move a vehicle from the scene of an accident?" I'm like, "If you're in the way you are, so long as it's safe to do so." She laughs and says, "At MIDNIGHT? Who the h$%# is gonna be in a parking lot at midnight?" I look at her, getting really really irritated, and say, "Us and that big white truck that was just trying to get through here." What a fu*(#^% moron, you know? Then the police showed up. HE was very nice and calm, just asked the facts (funny how the other driver was so nice to HIM) and he asks for our licenses, registration, insurance, etc. and you know, the whole thing was over in like a half-hour, it didn't take forever, the police were very quick about getting there and filling out the report. It could have been over even sooner if they'd just let me call police in the first place instead of arguing with me about how simple it'll be to fix the door (actually, both doors, as I found out when the cop shined his light on the truck - there's TWO dents, one smaller one on the passenger door and a larger, much more obvious one on the half-door).

Stupid people, I was really right in what I did, I know I was. The cop thought it might be between a grand to a grand and a half of damage, and I know that you ARE supposed to report that much damage to police. If it were a little bumper scrape I may NOT have called 'cause I could have just used touch up paint but a freakin' white smudge with a dent in it? I don't THINK so...

And the whole attitude from both of those women... when I told them I asked police their opinion and they said it sounded like they should come down one said, "Of course they're gonna say that! They need something to do!!" Which totally went against the whole, "Oh, we're gonna have to wait an hour for them to get here" concept because if they're so bored why not come right down? Huh? And they were acting as if it were my fault even though the driver said she knew it was hers. AND when we were talking to police and he told her that because she was backing up it was automatically her fault, she asked if she was going to get a ticket!! Of course he said no, but I began realizing she probably /really/ didn't want police involved, not just because it was midnight. I was just horrified to think that this woman had a little kid with her. And it was dawning on me that she really was being disagreeable because a) I should call police for this sort of thing and b) it shouldn't take THAT long and c) granted Dante's black and it was late but her windows were heavily tinted (bf noticed this) and SHE backed into ME!! how the heck can you back into something so much bigger than you?! and d) what if I were a short ways before her and she backed out faster than she had and I didn't stop in time and hit HER passenger side door, where her daughter could have been?!

Gosh, you know, these things all were running through my mind, and finally bf got there as police were wrapping it all up and he was soooooooo reassuring, and finally he's like "You better get over there, it looks like he's almost done." We just walked around the parking lot for a while after everyone left, and I was still shaking and didn't know how much of it was the cold and how much was the continuing effect of being so scared and angry. I feel kinda bad, too, I mean, my very first reaction was anger, and I never even thought to ask if she was all right, but then again I also knew it wasn't that bad because we were going like 5mph if that and /I/ was all right, the sensation of her hitting me was only a slight vibration, like, what was that? I'm just glad I was in Dante and not some little rinky dink car. I'm sure his size probably had a lot to do with how much she was able to move him, and despite the damage to the doors he held up well and both doors latch fine. It really is minor damage compared to what could have happened if he'd been out on a highway in a pileup or something or if she were backing up any faster or if I was pulling out any faster. Speed definitely affects things, thank GOD we were in the parking lot and not elsewhere.

Still, my baby's been in his first accident (me too) and I feel horrible, like, what if I'd left just a little sooner, or a little later, just a couple seconds!! I know it's not my fault but I still feel bad. Of course, as bf said, "You know, Dante's probably thinking, 'What was that? Is that all you can dish out? I'm a TRUCK!!'" If that's the worst thing that happens to him, I guess I'm lucky. Then he pointed out all the other dents in so many of the other cars and trucks in the 'lot. Shit happens, is all.

But the weirdest thing, which I recalled while I was telling bf later what happened, is that I never saw her tail lights or backing lights on. Her car had been parked so that there was a space between her and a truck, and it seems to me that I should have seen her backing lights from the point I was passing that truck to the point I got to her, and I never did. I do recall seeing someone's tail lights at that point, but not backing lights. Usually I give right of way to people who are backing, in case they do NOT stop for me, it's automatic instinct. So I wonder if there was something wrong with those lights, I mean, it was dark out, I should have seen them. That's why I kept wondering why I didn't do something different, even if I didn't see her ahead of time mentally, I should have seen her on some level and my brain would have been processing quicker than it did. But truthfully, it's possible she started backing out as I was out of view of those lights, too, since they'd have been a bit lower than that side of the truck. And since she hit the middle-rear of the truck, it stands to reason I was either going too fast or she backed out a bit quickly and suddenly. Maybe her daughter distracted her. Who knows. I would certainly be upset if I were her, but I'd also feel horrible knowing I was at fault in hitting a brand new truck in the middle of the night when I should have been watching where I was going! Even if I did less damage than a thimble would have!! Her bumper was dented in a bit - it had a little black streak on it - DANTE'S PAINT!! waaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!

Evil woman. She HIT my BABY!! *inward crying*

But no one was hurt, and even Dante and the other vehicle weren't heavily damaged, so here ends this rant.

~nv