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Traffic Jams and Brain Lock

Hi Sarah,

Brutal traffic jams this afternoon, Friday the 13th.  What the fuck! There I'd be again on the same f'n street, even more behind than if I'd just stuck it out in the first place. Accident on the 401 was why. What better place to learn how to program tasks into my cell phone than on Dufferin just off the highway. Couldn't see a cop. Kept track of that too. I was wired. That’s what happens if you try to do everything on your one day off.

 It's in the car that I have my most bizarre as well as my most enlightening moments. As soon as I heard Pie Jesu by Andrew Lloyd Webber there I was in my coffin. Especially where it went into the Agnus Dei. I began to see people blubbering, wiping their eyes, standing around talking about me. I know it is not uncommon for people to entertain such morbid fantasies (at least I hope it’s not). But I do think it's the height of self-indulgence. Who knows what goes through people’s heads when they’re jammed in a sea of cars, literally stranded, exhaust fumes blasting at them from all sides, seeping into their vehicle no matter what buttons they push. Just as I went to call my trainer she called me. We were probably a few car lengths apart. She cancelled. We rescheduled. The funeral music just kept coming. I noted the time on the car clock: 5:51. Silent Rain sounded perfect for music to exit by. It had that twangy, bent sound, conducive to helping people relax in stressful times. Ok Adria, don’t be a drama queen.

 And there was more. All sorts of sad scenarios crowded my thinking, sitting there in those lines of backed up cars. Some former students of mine have never really faded into the past and have left a strong imprint because of some unfortunate physical impediment or quirky behaviour. This day they kept popping up, one by one. There was the sultry, brown-eyed beauty whose nails were bitten down to the quick, fingers always red and raw. If I suggested she repeat each scale at least several times during her home practice session, she’d glower at me, never, never ask me to repeat anything! A case of OCD I think. Newt Girl, rather a bit of a loner, never went anywhere without her pet newt that she carted throughout the school in a fish bowl. Panic ensued when I once moved it away from the top of the piano using the excuse that the vibrations might disturb it. And I will never forget my chubby prepubescent, the buttons of her white blouse stressed to the max. It isn’t easy to cart around such big boobs when you’re only twelve. Unabashed in my presence, her eyes two half moons, she sang Kumbaya, all six verses, in the most angelic quavering voice imaginable. So soft and sweet. Around that time I began to toy with the idea of an introductory course about common mental disorders at CAMH and did eventually go for a 10-week session. I had never taken Psych 101. 

How did you like Hildegarde? Hopefully I didn’t rush you too much. Will you be dropping by for the Holly Berry Festival next week? Off to Niagara-on-the-Lake for tea at The Prince Hotel tomorrow and will of course spend some hours on the computer with Philomena. She's still using a walker but the hip is healing fast. It will have to, if she's to go to Florida next month!


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    That is the time for every person to go home that is working in the offices. You really don’t have to get angry for this traffic jam which is the part of our drive in the most likely way.

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