How's "life" going?

Two years ago, something very interesting happened to me while I was jogging down the side of the road. Usually, this wouldn't be a very exciting thing, as I did it every day, but this was a Saturday that would permanently change my life--and cause a debate over whether the word "life" was applicable.

As I was rounding onto Elm Street (isn't it interesting, I was thinking, that so many towns have an Elm Street?), I heard someone call my name. I turned my head to look, and failed to see the car that was swerving out of its lane and into incoming traffic.

However, there was no incoming traffic. There was only me, and that car, operated by a twenty-something woman who had had a seizure at the wheel and lost control of her car, hit me going some fifty miles an hour miles an hour. I died, of course.

But not for long--because, as my friends (the ones who had called my name) will tell you, I opened my eyes an hour later, under a white sheet.

Pardon the dramatics. I just wanted to tell you my story before I begin to blog about my "life." Perhaps you've heard of us--the American kids rising up from the grave (well, usually we aren't buried; it never takes us long to get back up) and going about our business just as any normal people. Some of us function much more slowly than others. Some, like Tommy Williams and especially Karen DeSonne, of internet and book fame, function perfectly normally. You'd barely notice they were zombies.

Me? All I have is a hitch in my step. I still talk as quickly (and as infrequently) as I ever did.

Welcome to my "life."