Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Irrational Fears Are Fears Too!

So, it was late last night, and I had a paper that I didn’t want to write and a midterm for which I didn’t want to study. Naturally, I was IMing a friend and browsing Youtube when I was suddenly struck by the memories of some of the things that I fear most in life. Not the regular fears like bugs (yes!) or fire (yes!) or clowns (nope), but the ones that most people have no real cause to fear or were never bored enough to concoct. So, I thought about it, and I realized that perhaps I could exorcise myself of some of these irrational fears by writing them down.

It didn’t work.

1. Falling down stairs. Okay, there is no denying that no one actually wants to fall down a flight of stairs, but one would think that I would be at least somewhat ready to face the possibility. I fall down often enough as it is, and if bones could be calloused from impact, my bones would be rock-solid from all of the times that I have run into things. But stairs are a whole other deal. I’m not afraid of heights, but the idea of tumbling down, step after step after step, just scares me. That’s why I always have to maneuver myself closest to the railing along any staircase. But even railings do not always fix everything; I do not understand why people insist on picking carpets that camouflage the steps, as though you have to prove your balancing merit in order to advance to the next level. It’s not my fault if I get blood on their rugs. Steps should be distinguishable from each other.

2. Breaking my nose. This one is actually connected to my fear of falling down stairs. I’m not particularly vain about my nose or partial to its structure in any way, but I always imagined that it would hurt like hell to break…and you would be so ridiculous looking as you healed…I’ve had black eyes, bruised temples, and cut lips (see #1) and looked a little worse for the wear, but I do not want to have to walk around with a big purple broken nose. Everyone would ask about it, and knowing me, it would be an embarrassing story, so I’d rather just avoid the situation as a whole.

3. Oompa Loompas. All right, I’m not even sure if this one should count as “irrational.” I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m watching Willy Wonka clips on Youtube at 3AM or that I’m six hours away from a midterm in one of my classes, but I have just realized that those little creatures are terrifying! They sing and dance in perfect unison without ever having rehearsed, apparently rejoicing in the demise of the candy-loving children. Now, I’m not talking about the weird midget guy from the new “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”—I’m talking about the little troop of orange Oompa Loompas from the old school version with Gene Wilder and some sky-high writers. And why are they so acrobatic? I feel like they’re just following me around all day, waiting for me to fall into an incinerator or something so that they can sing a death song about me while doing cartwheels. It could happen. We don't know.

4. Fish. Sharks, trout, catfish…I hate them all. They’re just slimy little wrigglers that are only good when dead. I trace this fear to my oldest brother, who seemed to enjoy telling me stories as a kid. So he told me about the freshwater bull sharks that swim around Lake Erie, and the huge sturgeons that came into the shallows to attack little girls. Which is why I now don’t like swimming at the beach when I can’t see the bottom. God only knows what’s down there. And it didn’t help when I spent half an hour floating in the Cuyahoga River when I was 16. I could only imagine what mutant things were swimming around me. So, naturally, I spend a lot of time researching these godforsaken creatures and, between Wikipedia and the Discovery Channel, I have ruled out most of the watery regions of the globe because of the types of fish population.
Oddly, I love eating fish. It’s the best part of Lent.

5. Accidentally missing classes. I prefer to do that on purpose.

6. Word problems. They seem just like innocent paragraphs, sitting there on the page, until it turns out that you’re supposed to figure out how long it takes Stanley to ride the train from Houston and Quebec. It’s a nasty trick.


Say what you will about me. This is some scary shit.


ORIGINALLY POSTED: MARCH 3, 2009

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