Baby, You Can Drive My Car.

Blerg. That's the word of the day. Or blah.. Whatever floats your boat. I had a post typed up but balked when it came time to click publish. I think partly because I'm afraid of coming across as whining and complaining or negative. Plus it involves family, and I don't want to write about them without permission when anyone (aka one of them) could stumble across my blog and read it. Paranoid? Maybe a tad. I'm still considering posting it though. After all, this is my blog about my life, so why would I leave out a huge part of it?

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Here's one super exciting this that has gone down though ...... *Drumroll please* .... I got my driver's permit! Yessir, now this girl is legally allowed behind the wheel of an automobile with adult supervision. Considering I have no idea how to drive and have only recently mastered the can opener, I have a feeling it's going to be an intense next couple of months. Do you remember when you first learned how to drive? What was your first car? Any wise/funny/terrifying/motivating driving related stories you want to share? 

Can I have this car now.... Pretty please?

So what prompted me to take this step after approximately five years of dragging my heels? 

1. Realizing that the company I keep (family) and my home environment is majorly toxic and unhealthy, that being able to drive would make it easier for me to get away from the dysfunction. 

Think The Royal Tenenbaums minus the quirky endearingness and siblings having sex.

2. Multiple negative experiences on the bus as of late. I tend to have a sane until proven crazy approach when it comes to my fellow commuters. But when I spend 20 minutes sitting awkwardly as a man yells and babbles at me and only me, it's clearly time to find another mode of transportation. Here's two other annoying/hilariously creepy recent bus experiences.

a.) Man wearing a Rastafarian beanie tells me I'm so pretty I could hitch hike home, that the cars would stop for me. He then asks how old I am and is undeterred when I reply that I'm fifteen, even though he's clearly in his late fifties. Asks me to go with him on a date to the strip club down the street. I decline. He then keeps instructing me to "extend my leg" for him. Um. No.

b.) Guy named Daveon who at least this time seems to be around my age asks for my number. He says he doesn't have a cell phone because his broke when he threw it at his ex-girlfriend. Sounds like a winner to me! He then proceeds to show me the tattoos he has all over his body.... Except he doesn't have any tattoos. He's lifting up his shirt and whatnot but there's nothing there. Like not even an inky pen doodle of a rocket or to-do list scribbled on his palm. I then awkwardly try to avoid him by desperately texting my sister, begging for an explanation as to why the only males who give me the time of day areeither homeless or bonkers. Maybe it's the smell of crazy being excreted out of my pores?

3. I was sick of my therapist bugging me about getting my permit. After our session the frustration plus everything listed above culminated in me spontaneously deciding to make like a Nike shoe and just do it. I cracked open my Driver's Handbook for the first time that night and went to the DMV the next morning. To be honest I wasn't really expecting to pass, and the fact that I only missed one question after studying for no more than an hour is quite disturbing... Not that I'm complaining!

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Today I painted my nails for some self imposed discomfort tolerance therapy. Let's just say a career as a manicurist is not in my future. You know when your fingers seem fine from a distance but close up they are terrible? Mine do not look like that. More polish is on my fingers than the actual nail. You can probably see the travesty that is my sad attempt at a manicure looking down from the window seat of a plane. Helen Keller could do a better job. 

Speaking of which... Helen Keller. Holy mother of pearl, talk about overcoming tremendous adversity. Deaf and blind. Can you imagine? Yet despite the deck being stacked against her she went on to earn a Bachelor of Arts degree, be an author and political activist, spout all sorts of quotes which are now on inspirational greeting cards/magnets, and be included in the lyrics of a 3oh3! song. If Helen Keller was able to accomplish all that despite the unspeakable odds, I think I can find it in me to eat dinner.

P.S. I'm glad you guys enjoyed my first ever vlog! How are the dog hand puppets going? Once you master that maybe I'll whip out one of my hand twirly rave dance moves. Mind you I've never actually gone to a rave, but if I ever do I'll be more than prepared.

P.P.S. All pictures are from weheartit.com

P.P.P.S. Every single one of you is too awesome for words.