Saturday, August 17, 2013

Irrational Fears

I have a theory that writers can be cripplingly imaginative, which is a nice way of saying batshit crazy. We’re constantly thinking in hypotheticals and our minds jump from step 1 to step 20 in a matter of seconds. You know how when a kid is telling you about their day and you zone out in the middle of it and suddenly they’re talking about something completely different? That’s my mind all the time. It can be a good thing when it comes to writing, but a bad thing when it comes to life. For example, I’ve developed some irrational fears.


Skills I would need in case of a zombie apocalypse

I hated running for the longest time, but about a year ago I started doing it again and I SUCKED at it. I could barely run a block without feeling like I was having an asthma attack. Naturally, the first thing that went through my mind was “I would be screwed in the event of a zombie apocalypse.” Now, I know that zombies run at different speeds (depending on the movie) but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re persistent as hell. (Side note: it would be nice to not have the brain capacity to give up.) Luckily my running stamina has increased since then, but there are other skills that the paranoid side of me thinks I should learn. These skills include, but aren’t limited to: knife throwing, gun shooting, head decapitating (don’t know how I’d practice that), Chun Li-style speed kicking (nerds know what I’m talking about), opening a Swiss Army knife without breaking a nail, horse taming and subsequently riding.

Great. More skills I should probably learn.

Randomly being impaled in the eye

Any time I see a lone pointy object, I imagine it impaling me in the eye. Specifically a single, stand-alone pointy object and specifically the eye. It’s not that I don’t care about being impaled in any other body part; it’s just that the fear is greater because the eye is a very delicate spot on your body that leads directly to the brain so the impact would be crazy detrimental. I don’t know about you, but it seems like a design flaw on God’s part to do it that way. (I’d write an angry letter to Him but I think His inbox is full from, like, complaints about political upheaval and mom groups.) So anytime I see a wooden stake, a piece of lumber on a truck, or a unicorn, I avert my eyes. Which sucks in the sense that a unicorn would be a wondrous thing to be able to look at.

Having to explain something serious to a kid

I’m not good at dealing with serious things without cracking a joke. Close friends and loved ones know this about me and accept the fact that I’m going to giggle at least once during Les Miserables. My fear is having to have a serious moment with a kid who’s too young to understand humor or the situation is so serious that it’s inappropriate. I can’t couch things in jokes! I can’t be awkward on purpose to lighten the mood! I’ll have to just say a bunch of things that are true! THIS FREAKS ME OUT!

We can't all be cool like you, Lorelai Gilmore!

Secretly being watched

Sometimes a stranger looks at me like the recognize me and my mind immediately jumps to "What if there's a camera in my house and I'm actually on some sort of web show I don't know about?! How embarrassing, but also entertaining I hope?" The more logical explanation is that just look like someone they know (very possible. I'm Asian, after all), but that doesn't stop me from thinking about the web show thing. Another theory that's crossed my mind is that am or just happen to look like The Chosen One for some sort of prophecy for a cult or Scientologists.

Running out of creative juices

I mean, what if there’s a fixed amount of creativity in the world and we hit a cap? Or, more logically - I believe that part of being creative means being unexpected and innovative. So... what if we hit a point where we’ve done everything? Shouldn’t there be some sort of emergency creativity reserve for this kind of thing? What will I do for a living? I won’t survive! The courtesy chuckles of strangers fuels me!

Sooo...this is a thing that exists. Future party favor?

Joanna says:

Well I didn’t want Kristine to be alone in such a vulnerable place, I mean, telling the world how to scare the shit out of you is probably pretty insane.  And yet here we are.  So deep breath and here goes.


Death by shark is my greatest fear in life. Everything about them terrifies me.  They actually evolved into highly efficient killing machines.  They don’t sleep, they’re always moving forward, they’re lightning fast, they have ROWS of teeth and have no problems growing new ones.  Do you know how many drunken fools wish they had that ability?  Or kids that got beaned in the tooth with a stackin’ jack by their two year old cousin? (Shout out to you little brother!)  But probably the most upsetting thing about sharks is -  they don’t actually want to eat us.  Soooo once they bite you - enough for you to die slowly and painfully from blood loss or limb loss - they’re like meh, this is one gross ass seal. I’ll find a tastier one.  And leave you to bleed out and drown.  They’re like serial killers who get bored with murder.


Second greatest fear in life. Not because I’m afraid of drowning (although I am scared of that too) but because a Tsunami brings a shark right to your front door.  Ding dong! Who’s there? SHARK ATTACK TO THE FACE!  No thank you.

Horror Movies

This one includes but is not limited to movies about: ghosts, spirits, undead, cannibals, any sort of possession, demons, monsters, definitely torture porn, and of course Satan himself.  I am a gigantic baby. Like huge.  I once couldn’t sleep for two weeks straight after watching Sin City because I kept imagining little Elijah Wood looking at me with his cold, unfeeling sunglass eyes, thinking hungry thoughts. {Silver Lining:  My husband who was my boyfriend at the time, not only tried to stay awake with me so I wasn’t scared, (FOR TWO WEEKS)  he also didn’t break up with me!   So at that point I was pretty sure it was love.}

Needing to drive stick shift in a life or death situation

Ok I’m gonna take you on this ride with me: The big one hits California.  Half of LA is buried in rubble and the other half is now on a giant peak like hundreds of feet above sea level.  Not only is the city in chaos and ruin, but when the earth broke apart -  a toxic gas was exhaled from the earth’s mantle. It infected most of the surviving population’s mind and now  they’re raving lunatics who confuse people with Carl’s Jr.  There I am, alone in the rubble, when five or six big-ish guys who really want to pay six bucks for a stupid burger spot me and they’re like “Hey, there’s a Carl’s Jr. - let’s eat!”  They give chase- but ya know, this isn’t their first burger and their tickers aren’t what they used to be.  If I wasn’t asthmatic, I’d probably be able to outrun them no problem. But I am and I can’t.  So what to do?  Glory be- I see a car shining in the distance.  I run as fast as my untoned legs will take me, hop in the car and find a key in the ignition!  Amazing! I turn it and then realize “OH NO. IT’S STICK SHIFT.” I’m not going anywhere and I’m about to be finished like a medium fries after a giant burger.  It’s curtains for me.

Lilly will realize how uncool I am/Lilly won’t realize how uncool I am:

I don’t want her to ever be embarrassed of me (By me- sure- not of me) but I also don’t want her to be the girl from Saturday Night Live either. No matter how you slice it, there’s gonna be a day when Lilly’s gonna go her own way and think what I do is as silly as I think some of the stuff my mom did is. So what to do? Nothing.  Solid insight me.

No comments:

Post a Comment