Thursday, October 20, 2005

You Can Look, But You Can't See

A few blog entries back I said, "I don't dwell on those things because if I did, I'd probably never leave the house. " I was talking about supposed "scary things" about life and the ultimate realization that we have less control than we think. My point was that we could all pretty much incapacitate ourselves if we put too much effort into focusing on how little control we have of certain things, or how many things we do despite the fact that there is a fair amount of risk involved.

I believe this to be true. That's why there is a fine line between brilliance and madness. That's why smart people tend to be a little neurotic. If ignorance is bliss, what is a lack of ignorance? Misery?

To me, it ultimately comes down to how much we dwell on "scary things." What is the difference between someone who is completely screwed up to the point of being clinically ill and someone like me who is sane, but has just enough mental quirks and obsessions to be a source of curious amusement for my friends? The difference is that I only pay attention to how screwed up everything is a little bit—much more than most, probably, but not as much as the guy who is a full-fledged basket-case.

But we are forced to do things all the time that are just not ideal, and it's kind of messed up. Here's another example that came to my mind on the commute home the other day, heading westbound:

Driving into the sun.

If you've ever headed east during sunrise or west during sunset, you'll know exactly what I mean. I'm not talking about when there's a little glare in your eyes. I'm talking about when you're basically forced to stare directly into the sun, or to look elsewhere while you're driving.

This scenario has to be familiar to others. You've got the visor down completely, and you're doing your best to raise your head up to such an angle that you avert the sun rays. But, of course, you find that that kind of thing permits you only to be staring right out in front of your hood. Remember the old drivers' ed. training? "Aim High In Steering: Get the Big PIcture." With that visor crap, you're aiming low and getting the tiny picture.

Then you get to a light and it's red. Damn! You've got to look up at that one. But the taxing beams are just too much, so you sort of end up shielding everything with your hand while stopped there, leaving only a tiny crack to glance through every now and then to see if the red light turned green.

If I'm second or third in line, fuck it! I just go through the light when the person ahead of me goes. I leave it to faith that he checked it to be green, and I trust that it must still be green since I'm right behind him.

Then, as you cruise along, basically squinting your way through, you get those moments of peace where the sun ducks behind a building or you go under a bridge. Wow. Those brief moments are like sex for your eyes. "Oh, yeah! That's the stuff. That's nice! Maybe we're done with this torment." But, of course, 2 seconds later, you're back in the direct sunlight.

Your vision is, at best, horribly compromised when this kind of sunrise/sunset stuff happens. But none of what I have described is representative of the worst case scenario. What's the worst? Well, everything describe above, but add in one more ingredient.: a horrendous film on your windshield. Yeah, you may not have even known you had such a bad film (or any film) on your windshield, until that sunlight hits it and the reflection basically make the damn thing entirely opaque.

When that happens, if you're anything like me, you fire up the washer fluid, hoping to whisk it away, only to find out that the film is on the inside of your windshield. Now, the newly glistening exterior windshield has become, almost incredulously, even more difficult to see through. In desperation, I poke around my car for 7-11 napkins, hoping to scuff away a small part of the film. As I attempt to find the napkins and carry out this task, you can add two more things to the equation that take away from my ability to see everything clearly.

Bottom line: maybe you think I'm exaggerating. "Get over it, man. You can still see enough." OK, whatever. But lets do the math. If "10" is driving in ideal visibility, and "0" is driving with your eyes shut, this sun stuff is like a "3." A "3" is not a good place to be when operating a motor vehicle.

And, just for an added bonus, consider that everyone else out there on the road is "three-ing" it up, too. Not just you. We're all like glorified Stevie Wonders cruising around.

But you know what? I've done this sun thing countless times, and I'll probably do it again tomorrow. And I don't really care and I'm not worried about it. Why? Because I am not quite as far gone as the dude who is so scared by life that he can't leave his house. If I spent enough of my mental energies on this topic, I could probably become him. I just focus enough on it to make for a (hopefully) amusing & thought provoking blog entry.

Oh, I admit it. I'm being completely tongue-in-cheek with all of this. But that doesn't mean that I'm not also speaking truth.

3 Comments:

At 9:40 PM, Blogger Susanna said...

First of all, you're closer to that full-fledged basket case than you are comfortable admiting. You think about things that probably only Paul does too.

I head west for my commute and I've often thought that if you work in the City and live on LI, assuming you're driving, it works out okay with the sun thing. I've been in the situation where I almost rear-ended someone because the glare was so bad, but that's not a dailly occurrence like it is for the poor bastards that commute from the west to the City everyday. So, there you have it, the only postive thing about commuting to the City from the Island.

And clean out your damn car! It's actually my car. Feel free to put some paper towels in there for when needed.

 
At 3:00 PM, Blogger Paul G. said...

[[[[[You think about things that probably only Paul does too.]]]]]

Hey!! I take offense at... no wait, you're entirely right.

 
At 11:39 AM, Blogger Spacegirl said...

Yet another reason why I'm glad I don't drive!

 

Post a Comment

<< Home