Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid

 

Like any good paranoid, there are many things that whig me out, make me suspicious and upset me. Naturally, little of it has anything to do with reality – just an over-active imagination.

But there are some things that really do scare me. Like:

• The noises I only hear when I’m at home alone, at night when the wind is blowing or it’s raining or there is a power outage. I never, ever, ever, ever hear these noises when there is anyone (other than my dog) with me. And no matter what the sound sounds like, I’m convinced it’s someone trying to break in.
• Getting any kind of terminal disease. In fact, I can’t watch those disease of the week movies anymore because I am simply too suggestible. Heck, I went to dinner with Zelda the other night and she wasn’t feeling so great, so I got sick to my stomach too, lest I be left out.
• Being eaten by a shark and/or drowning in the ocean. I never really learned how to swim. I can tread water and swim on my back sort of…but diving off the side of a boat or dock or pool and swimming with my face actually in the water? On purpose? No way! And the ocean is just way too big anyway. When I first came out to California from the Midwest (where they don’t have oceans) one of the first things we did was go to the ocean. It was beautiful, dark, swirling, deep, deep blue and oh so appealing on a hot summer day. I saw these other people wading out and sort of riding the waves as they came in – like a little hop and then the wave caught you and you floated for a second. Weeeee! What fun. So, I was out there too. Riding the waves and thinking ‘look at me, look at me, I’m not afraid.’ I turned toward the shore and saw my boyfriend waving to me and pointing and I waved back, happy as a clam. He kept waving and waving. Weird. Then when I turned away from him and toward the ocean there was a wave about 15 feet high staring me in the face. I shrieked and then it grabbed me and tumbled me (luckily) all the way to the shore. I was spitting sand and seaweed for hours afterwards. That was the last time I went into the ocean.
• Eating insects. When I was in high school, a classmate offered me a chocolate, which I took happily and popped into my mouth. When I bit down on it there was a crunch and a horrible taste. My classmate was rolling as he watched me have to swallow the chocolate covered bumble bee, because if I screamed the teacher would have sent me to the principle’s office. Damn him!
• Mystery noises from my car. It doesn’t matter what kind of car or what kind of noise. To me, any noise that comes from a car is a bad thing. Mostly because I don’t know what they mean. And what’s worse when I try to explain it to the mechanic I can’t find the right adjectives to describe it. Once they discover the problem (if there is one) their description is so far afield of what I would have called it, that it makes me wonder if English really is my first language.
• Being without computer access. If I am cut off from my computer and/or the Internet for more than a couple of hours I start to panic. Sweat beads on my upper lip and I begin to feel like a drug addict going through withdrawal. I get pissed beyond belief and have the urge to track down Bill Gates to give him a piece of my mind. I am seriously addicted people. Scary.
• Any food that smells funny. It doesn’t matter where it comes from, a grocery store, a fast food place, a fancy eatery, my Aunt Emma – if it smells funny, even slightly…it’s in the trash.
• Having no ideas. This has happened to me on occasion, I simply have not one idea in my head. I can’t think of a story, poem, editorial comment, rant or anything. Nuthin’! I immediately start to think that this is the end – I will never write again. I have used up all the creative juices God gave me and apparently squandered them because I’m still not rich and famous and now it’s all over. The thrill is gone. No more magic. I’m officially ordinary. I must do copious amounts of shopping during these periods.

So there you have it, my biggest fears. What are yours?

WC