After doing work on my latest New Media update I have had to resolve myself to the fact that I'm not going to make the 8 o' clock movie. Well, let me blog instead.
New Media has been usurping my blogging time, and I apologise. I've missed writing.
On Saturday my classmates (well, most of them) and I went to PE on a 'paper-buying' attempt. We hopped in the car, gorgeous sunny day, and came upon a road block as the officials were attending to the most horrific accident I've ever seen.
The dead body on the side of the road before Colchester, the dead motorcyclist on the side of the road in Joburg with Vern, the two dead bodies on the side of the road on Saturday - all horrific, but not the worst, for one simple reason: the blue cloth covering their bodies and the bridge of cloth that rests on air between where it touches the peak of the nose and comes to rest on the unmoving chest, which lands on my eyes and tells them the body is completely underneath a clinical piece of blue.
The most horrific was the third body. I glanced for 2 seconds, knowing that more accidents occur at the scene of an old accident than anywhere else. I looked in the 'right' place. The car was still on its roof in what used to be my lane as I drove on the right. They were cutting away metal as they tried to free his body, but I knew he was dead. The slow pace at which they were cutting; the men standing back with their hands on their hips; and the brain matter that lay where his head had dragged on what used to be the top of his car (my memory tells me that there was an impossible amount of this, it was everywhere, everywhere); these told me he was dead.
The rest of the trip was long; I didn't want to be driving anymore. The girl in my class in another car who thought she was ahead of us sms'd us too late not to look at the scene. I could feel everyone else in the car tense up and wonder if I was a good driver. I really didn't want to be driving anymore. We were quiet and I switched the radio on and slowed my speed to 110 even though we were on an empty open road.
I really really didn't want to be driving anymore, but I kept it so so quiet.
PE was good, hot, sunny, ice cream day. But we all felt sad and tired and hopeless for the three people who rounded the corner at 8:30 on a Saturday morning. I don't know how many of the deceased were in the red Golf that might likely have been slowing down as it approached the corner, driving so legally and so well and living their lives out like good people, eagerly awaiting their morning trip to PE, when they came upon the white Merc going way, way too fast.
We didn't get the paper, the shop didn't have what I wanted.
It is pretty shit to be reminded of your mortality on a hot Saturday morning, when you wish you could go back to just feeling happy to have a break.
I hate the thought that I'll be under one of those blue blankets one day, whether it be through my poor judgement of speed or by no fault of my own.
This is a 
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