Tag Archives: Buddhism

Why I Get Honked at A LOT

It all started in third grade PE.  This is when the other kids realized that they should not pick me for their kickball teams.  When kids got stuck with me they usually smacked their lips and stomped their feet in disgust.  The truth was, and is, I don’t give a rat’s behind about sports or winning.  The kids in third grade found out when I ducked from a flying, red playground ball instead of catching it and getting whoever that kid was “out.”  Even then, I would have rather stayed in the classroom and read than gone out in the South Florida sun to “play.”  I always felt like Private Benjamin in PE.

Let’s face it.  I’m a little weird.  Aside from being a sedentary introvert, I’m also not a Christian.  I’m more of a Buddhist thinker, which is where the lack of enthusiasm for competition comes from.

Around here, they even have OSU sandwiches.
Around here, they even have OSU sandwiches.

I didn’t know this, the Buddhism part, until I took this quiz. So, anyway, as the sole sorta Buddhist hermit wherever I go, people often look at me funny, stop talking to me, or, if they are in the car behind me, honk.

Late last fall, I did something I rarely do, I went to Kroger on a Saturday. It was packed, so I assumed that people were stocking up for an early snowstorm that was headed our way.  Having grown up and spent most of my life in the hurricane belt, I could relate to stocking up for a storm.  As I was standing in the deli line, waiting to buy some white American cheese for my cat (that’s another blog entirely) and some low-salt deli meat for my husband, I got bored and decided to do something I also rarely do.  I talked to a person I did not know.

I looked at the woman next to me and said, “I guess everyone is stocking up before it starts snowing.” She said, “Probably for the Bucks’ game.” To which I replied, “What?”  I didn’t hear her at first.  When she said Bucks I thought she was talking about hunting, another thing I don’t care about.  Then, I caught on, “Oh, does Ohio State play today? I’m not a fan of sports at all.”  The lady turned her head and stopped talking to me.  Yep. Not one more word.  No, her number at the deli was not called. It was like horns grew out of my head when I said I did not care about sports.

I work from home, so my schedule is somewhat flexible.  Because of this, I’m usually not in a mad, crazy, homicidal rush when I leave the comfort zone to run an errand or pick up lunch.  Therefore, I REFUSE to be an aggressive turner.  If I am attempting to turn left, and I do not have a green arrow, I wait until it is actually safe to turn to move.  I don’t inch up into the intersection so that I can get to my destination 48 seconds quicker.  It’s just not that important to me.  It’s not a race.  Even if it were, we all know I would not care about winning.  Even when some super aggressive driver honks at me, and this happens often, I will still not sit in the middle of the street so I can scoot quickly in front of a semi.  What does the honker think I am going to do, smile and say, “Oh, are you in a rush? Please allow me to risk my life to get out of your way.”

That’s why I get honked at a lot.  And this is why I should just stay home.

The Lizard King Club — My Next Novel

My husband and I were riding down Easton Way, on our way to the airport to pick up our son. The satellite radio was set on the Classic Vinyl station, and the Doors’ “Light my Fire” was playing. I started to think about Jim Morrison and how he thought the spirit of a Native American entered his body as his family drove past the accident that killed the man. If you haven’t seen the movie The Doors, or read any biographical material, that probably made no sense.  I offer you these lyrics as clarification.

While I was lost in this thought, my husband said, “Look! Look at the donorcycle guy!”  My husband and I often say that motorcycles (AKA donorcycles) are organ donation machines, and this guy was a great example. I looked over to my right, and I saw a motorcycle rider standing up on his seat and doing a wheelie, while going at least 80, if not faster. I stared at him as he passed us, and I watched him weave in and out of cars. I told my husband, “Stay back.  I don’t want to see it.”  I was wiping my sweaty palms on my pants because I thought for sure we were about to witness the cyclist’s horrible death.

As I stared at him, I could almost hear the motorcycle rider say, “I am the Lizard King. I can do anything,” which is a line from one of Jim Morrison’s poems. The combination of witnessing someone who is that unafraid to die, and hearing Jim’s voice made me start thinking about reincarnation.   As a wannabe Buddhist, I have read about how the Dalai Lama is found.  Each Dalai Lama is believed to be the reincarnation of the previous Dalai Lama. What if all leaders, whether they are artistic, spiritual, or both, were reincarnated?  As I thought about the people I would like to see reincarnated, I realized that most of them were members of the 27 Club, musicians who have died at 27.  So, I thought, what if some of the most famous members of the 27 Club came back, and it was completely normal and expected? How would we recognize them? Could they complete their missions this time around?

So, I have begun writing The Lizard King Club, my second YA novel. While it will still be realistic fiction, for the most part, it will contain more fantasy than anything I have previously written.  I will post excerpts on my blog as I write.  I hope you enjoy reading them, and I would love to hear from you as I write.

Creative Commons License
The Lizard King Club by Lisa R. Petty is licensed under aCreative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.