Becoming a Ghost

I used to have nearish death experiences for a long span of my life, but this past year has been mildly uneventful. I think it is because Sel keeps me distracted from myself. Two incidents this week though have made me wonder if my little spark for disaster is still kindling.

On Friday, I had my very last meeting with the professor I have TA'd for for the past two years. It was kind of sad, but mostly awesome because Dr. Crandall always provides pizza for his handful of assistants. Anyway, I decided to walk home in the rain instead of calling Sel because it was only a light drizzle when I left campus. Suddenly, a huge onslaught of rain and hail decided to annoy my short sleeved, skirt wearing self. I picked up the pace only to be stranded at a corner waiting for the light to change. Cue rapist van driver. This blue, beaten up van rolls on up next to me and a heavily bearded man (aka pedophile beard) asks me if I want a ride. At that moment, I was just touched by his kindness. I knew I likely resembled a wet kitten and he was just a nice guy who liked to save drowning mammals. I politely declined his offer and told him I lived right across the street as I pointed my finger in that direction.

Rapist: Which one?

Me: What? (The hail was getting louder)

Rapist: Which house?

Me: Um, the gray one. (Lie)

Rapist: See you around

See you around? Hopefully whoever does live in that random gray house does not get a visit from pedophile beard.

Now on to the serious business. The business that can't be mistaken as a weird dude just being nice.

Sel and I went on a walk last night and visited an old LDS church from the late 1800's. It was absolutely stunning! I wish the architecture of the past was apart of the buildings we use today. On our way down from the second floor, Sel suggested I take a picture of the beautiful spiral staircases. I wasn't even thinking and started walking backward to get them in the frame. Suddenly Sel's face turned ashen and he reached out for me. My foot hit the wood paneling barely reducing the momentum that was about to throw me backward over the railing to the first floor. I wish I could describe better how it happened, but just know it was terrifying. The rest of the night was spent talking about what would have happened had I died in front of Sel. (My number one thought was that maybe my functional anatomy prof. would agree to put a fancy A on my transcript in honor of my deceased memory) Cheerful, eh? It would have been pretty poetic though to die in an old church in front of man I love.

On a more joyful note, ONE FINAL LEFT!!!