This is my second life and it seems pretty sweet so far, aside from the gnawing pain across the whole of my right torso and the occasional steak knife stabbing agony when I try to mobilize certain muscle groups.

At 8:30 a.m. this morning a Kia sedan became a little more excited than usual and plowed into the driver side of my car with enough vigor to tame a thousand female amazonian warriors should they exist. Apparently annoyed at this transgression my lightweight Satria absorbed the blow like a trooper and spun two complete circles, smashed into the curb, smothered a bush and probably frightened an entire ant colony whose queen upon staring at the sudden and totally rude appearance of my car’s front fender, predictably issued a royal decree that setting up shop at the corner of a deadly intersection seems like an overvalued idea (in hindsight), and proceeded to have three ministers whipped publicly, a thousand warriors ordered to assault said offending fender and had a dozen contingent of scouts recon for a more suitable nesting site.

(This is the part where I write “But I digress” but I happen to like digressing aand it will not kill you to noticed that I had DONE so)

I discovered that it’s rather annoying to have ONLY “FUUUUUUKKKKKKKK!!!!” screaming in my mind when I realized the increasingly high probability that I will die. No time dilation, no slo-mo flashbacks to my kindergarten sweetheart, just pure unadulterated horror. So much for dramatization.

When the spinning finally stopped, and when my faculties finally switched back on one by one I noticed that there was an acrid smell in the air (my airbag had deployed) that seared my throat. I then noticed two pairs of hands grabbing the frame of my door and trying to pry it off so that I can actually be extracted. There were a lot of disembodied voices asking if I’m alright, or where does it hurt and whether I can move. This prompted me to wave my left pinky weakly. There certainly was urgency in the air about all the getting out of car thing but I wasn’t feeling anything much if at all and my seatbelt was still on so things should be alright if I just take a quick nap, aight?

A small defiant part of my mind however was desperately trying to inform me that most (but not all) cars runs on internal combustion engine and those gulp down stuff that makes it combust. Licking flames hmm. OH SHIT FUCKKK (excuse my pathetic literary efforts during a crisis)

So I promptly unbuckled my seatbelt, yanked myself over to the passenger side, unlocked the door, stepped out onto the asphalt and immediately fell down on all fours, coughing. Wiggling my extremities to check if anything important was broken/maimed/smashed I noticed the lack of spilled blood, which was basically an encouraging sign. I then stood and stalked around my expired car, much to the relief of six men (how did they get here so quickly??), who are still asking the same questions save that they are now also asking me to sit down and rest.

It sounded incredibly absurd at the time.

What I saw when I got round to the impact site was even more incredulous:

In a nutshell if I had been a fraction slower I would bear the force of the trauma and would probably have a broken spine/hip/be playing D&D with Gary Gygax. If I had been a little faster my fuel tank may have ruptured and pose a great hazard, regardless of whether it exploded or not. Talk about providence.

Somebody handed me my spectacles at this juncture, which I noticed to be lacking the left lens but I put it on anyway.

So we fast forward to various men in uniform buzzing in asking questions, Min Chen swooping in and going postal on the offending driver (who was insignificant to me at the time as to how bedbugs are pretty insignificant to us -I don’t know why) and my Dad finally arriving to send me to the hospital for a checkup, which I found to be rather tedious at the time because my organs felt like they have been rearranged according to alphabetical order i.e. balls retreated into my abdominal cavity and heart dropping to where my bowels was.

I presently found myself on a wheelchair, waiting for a pretty cute nurse to give me a prelim check in the ER ward of a hospital. Both of us had to wait for a doctor and the X-Rays, and it was boring so I did what every self respecting dude would have done if he just had a serious accident and is waiting to find out if he’s about to die.

ME: So, how long have you been working here.
Pretty Cute Nurse (PCN forthwith): Ah…this is my third week and my second day in ER.
ME: Oh?
PCN (Blushing a little): Yeap, I’m a student still. From (Some Uni name lost in the haze of the moment).
ME: Ah. I’m a lecturer.
PCN: Really? Which university?
ME: Lim Kok Wing
PCN (Sagely): Ah, very expensive. Most expensive.
ME: Uh, nah it’s about the same really. How long till you graduate?
PCN: This semester. I’ve been posted to other hospitals for two months now.
ME: Ah so they rotate you around.
PCN: Err… yes
FANTASIZING ME: Tell me nurse, would you mind stripping together with me in the x-ray room so we can conduct a full body examination. With x-rays. And maybe some whiskey to numb the pain.
ACTUAL ME: I teach games. (Picture a burning fighter jet spiraling meteorically into the ground in a huge fireball)
PCN (Feigning interest and surprise): Wow, a game genius! (WTF is that supposed to mean?)
ME: Err…nah I just tell people about what’s fun.

At this point the radiographer rushed in and promptly abducted me into the X-Ray chamber. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. After a tense ten minutes the doctor called me into his office, stuck my X-Ray up on a lightbox and started pointing vigorously to blurish blobs of matter. Well it turned out that everything is where they should be and my skull (they had to X-Ray it FOUR times – yeah it’s thick) hadn’t sustained any fractures. He then gave me a prescript, told me to rush back to the hospital if anything starts to leak (figuratively) and shooed me away.

And so here I am, typing this away while refraining my self from chewing the Celebrax painkillers to save them for tomorrow when according to the doc “you just might get out of bed, good luck”.

That’s the name of my stillborn blog before I decided to splash my intellectual graffiti, weird jabbers and silly puns in what was Wilz’s equivalent of an e-lawn. I’ve pitched a solid tent and you can expect various posts on a myriad of subjects, most of which should be written with a certain legal amount of candor and the rest peppered luxuriously with either stolid observations about the world we live(d) in or casually impregnated with what you would call swear words but what I would assume to be a perfectly fucking normal way of communicating shite. Sometimes I go on a rampage and make an offensive cocktail out of them as thus:

Religion is an invasive but necessary form of informational virus which helps shapes our journey on this planet. This virus alters our initial form of “software” DNA and is primarily the reason why we are able to spread our civilizations across the globe so effectively, with legends and myths first providing an ability to store information that both guides us and reflects our state of being and then reprogramming our state of mind from the moment of birth. The question is not whether we should do away with this virus but what could do a better job.

Also, triple fuck that bitch who was texting and swerved into my lane this morning, nearly sideswiping me into the railing.

And similar rubbish jottings. I shall certainly have fun hammering the keyboard, and might even post some of the fiction material I have been working on should I suddenly decide that the public could use a few jolts of literature agony.

Cheers

Postscript: Due to the fact that I inexplicably lost a long post about the origin of surnames (which creatively contains hamsters, lego blocks and my personal flaws) to my blaise ineptitude with the wordpress interface and the ball-stabbing connection I proudly surf in, I have decided to cop out and write my first post about my first post. So there.