One Less Bell to Answer

I've been writing for hours but I haven't written anything worth reading. But isn't that the life story of the English major? This sounds conceited, so take it at face value. I know I'll get an A on this paper. It's pretty good, and undoubtedly way better than most of the other papers that will be turned in tomorrow at 2:00pm. But I know the truth - it's mediocre at best. With time and a little more concern from me, it could be great. Right now, at 12:30am, if I have to write one more sentence about perfume I'll kill someone. So I'm taking a break. And writing something else. But isn't that the life story of the English major?

I haven't been much of anywhere. I fancy myself really cultured because I took art history in elementary and middle school and because I listen to NPR and because I read... but the sad truth is that I've spent most of my life tucked away into a corner of Alabama in a corner of Southern America in a corner of the world.

What I have done is driven down highway 280 about 100 times since my freshman year of college. Sometimes I talk on the phone, sometimes I listen to music. But tonight I rolled down my window and turned off my radio and I rode with my thoughts and the wind that rustled between assaulting my cheekbones with cold sharp jabs and gently brushing the front locks of my hair across my nose. I was somewhere between Dadeville and Alexander City when I saw a baby deer standing on the side of the road. I've heard that there are lots of deer in Alabama on the roads and such, which explains those deer crossing signs, but I don't think I have ever noticed one just standing on the side of the road like she was. I say she. Maybe he. But something about deer and her eyes that looked mournfully at me as my squeaking Nissan glided past and probably the American partiachal tradition of the powerful man and the innocent woman, with a dash of a childhood viewing of Bambi all make me think she was a girl. Although now that I think about it, I'm not entirely sure if Bambi was male or female. She was just standing there and by the time my heart jolted at the prospect of this deer escaping whatever made her eyes look that way by dashing in front of my car and dashing the rest of my semester... she was just a reflection in my 'objects may be larger than they appear' mirror.

The rest of my ride was uneventful, unless you count being tailgated by a Lexus SUV. I drove the speed limit. I tried not to text. I shed a few tears that I'll blame on the sting of the air as the time grew later and Mother Nature remembered that it's supposed to be February, even in Alabama. I sang a little, maybe outloud, maybe to myself, because it's all the same when the wind is covering your voice and only the occasional deer is around to listen.


Now I'm going to finish my paper. It will be done before 2am, at least the content. If not, there may be an addition to this post in an hour.

With Love