Thursday, December 29, 2005


Avacious News and Notes
My RL sunglasses came in the mail today. They rule.
I finished my cute little knit coif's a little head/ear cover that ties under the chin. It looks very sweet, and I'm very proud of myself. Knitting project three will begin today or tomorrow. What will it be? I dunno.
For two nights running I have failed to take my desired bath instead of a shower. Tonight, I shall not fail. I *will* have a bath, it will feel amazing, and I will drink Framboise Lambic while I'm in there. There will be bubbles. I wish I'd brought my rubber duck from home.
Did anyone catch the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show? I have intentions to produce a luxurious set of wings, perhaps not of the $12,000 variety (that's the price of a basic pair...I asked at a VS store once, I believe the same day I was "promoted" to a 34-B), but a pretty nice pair nonetheless. I believe I shall also produce some awesome and feathery "sleepwear" to go along with it.
It would probably be easier if VS just hired me to be in the show.

On the Couch
Things I am afraid of:
Being chewed up by feral dogs. (I will never, ever watch the movie Cujo. Ever.)
Tornadoes. (Frequent topic of nightmares.)
Lightning. (OK, no one wants to be fried, but people who stand outside during thunderstorms really piss me off. If not me, someone someday is going to get toasted in front of me and I will officially lose my mind.)
Have you ever really tried to figure out why you're afraid of something? Those three are the triad of doom and they're things I can't really do anything about. If a feral dog is chasing me, or if there's a tornado reaching down out of the sky...well, short of suddenly achieving The Force, I can't do much. Does that mean that, ultimately, I am afraid of losing all control? It's true that I don't like not being able to retain at least some control over situations, or myself in situations (which is why I hate drugs, and why I've never drunk myself into a complete stupor). I don't know if that translates into fear.
Certainly there are occasions in which I have no control, but generally those are times when I have trust. Roller coasters, for instance. I trust the hands that built them and the engineers who designed them.
With tornadoes, on the other hand, there's only me and God, and uncontrollable weather. I'm not really the type to believe that God sends tornadoes after people, and while I am one to try to trust in God, that still doesn't really connect to an doesn't affect irrational fears. You can trust God that things will come out all right on the whole in the end, but that doesn't mean you're unscathed, or alive. In other words, I believe in God, and I believe God is with me, but that's not going to stop me being afraid of lightning.
What really mixes this up is that I don't fear death. I am very Eowyn that way, fearing neither death nor pain. So why do my three biggest fears represent those two things? That's what I've never been able to figure out. And why those three things, and not, say, sharks? I love sharks. I don't know if I'd love them as much if I was next to a Great White in the water, but I can watch a movie about sharks and not be bothered, or even be excited, whereas when I watch tornadoes on Storm Stories, I start to cry. (OK, I just gave too much away there). When I watched Gothika, I turned the lights off to enhance the scariness...I ended up having to turn the lights on, not because I was scared of the movie as the fact that it was storming outside.
And what about the dogs? The only thing I can imagine is that I must have some feline blood somewhere in my limbic system. I'm small, I'm not very strong, and an angrily barking dog I'm unfamiliar with gives me the shivers more than anyone else I've ever met. I don't know why. The sound is just terrible to me.
Irrational. That's the best part about fears. Some you can trace and some you can't. I guess that's how I've developed a recent...fear? distaste for?...indoor centipedes. I don't know why they make me jump on a chair, but they do. That moment in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where the regular, if enormous, centipede crawls under Kate Capshaw's hair is scarier to me than Jaws eating Robert Shaw. And I'm not even afraid of bugs! What's wrong with me?
I'm going to go home and watch a movie about wolves.

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