Coffee and a Cigarette


Weird Things Creep Me Out

“It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems with just potatoes.”

Douglas Adams

 

I effin’ love potatoes!

 

By the way, I taught my little sister Algebra 2 using potatoes. It was a feat. She had already taken the class once. I succeeded not with books or computers, but with potatoes. I am a genius. Pretty pointless, I know, but I don’t want this blog to constantly be a source of misery and badness. I am using this blog as a sort of self-therapy tool, but I’m not a miserable person. Sometimes my posts will be dull, or funny, or make me seem like I have brain whimsy.

So usually when you say, “Weird things creep me out,” this is what you actually mean: “Those weird-ass spiders with the long legs creep me out.” Which they do creep me out by the way, but that’s besides the point.

When I say it, I mean things like when my husband touches my toenails, it really creeps me out. And he, of course, thinks it is hilarious. It also creeps me out when he blows on my arm (he sticks his mouth on my arms and just blows on it), but not when he does it anywhere else (except my toes).  Hand wounds creep me out. I seem to have inherited this trait from my father. I just cannot stand to see people’s hands get hurt. Even if it’s just paper cuts. Gaping chest wounds are cool though. Those are normal, right? I think crickets are horrifying, but grasshoppers are fine.

I know there are other things that creep me out, but I can’t recall any of them because I got distracted. My husband was playing with a laser pointer and the dog was trying to eat the laser. It’s the epitome of adorable.

 

In some other unrelated news, I went to a gun range yesterday. I was hanging out with my husband and his friends, and his manger. I shot his friend’s 9 mil. and was attacked by it’s bullet casings. When you fire the handgun, the casings are supposed to fly off to one of the sides. However, when I fired it (and I fired a whole 15 bullet clip) the casings flew back at me and went down my shirt.

 

This is what attacked me.

Now, once ejected from the gun, they are very hot. You should not touch them immediately after they’ve left the gun. So, I had hot casings jump down my shirt, get caught on my underthings, burn my hands while I’m trying to dig them out- ALL WHILE IN FRONT OF MEN. And men my husband works with no less. It was funny, for sure. But it also hurt like hell.

So much for being cool in front of the guys. That’s what always happens. I am the anti-cool, but not in any sort of cool ironic way. I am just not cool.

That is all, farewell for now!

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Fears
October 25, 2010, 9:27 pm
Filed under: Bad Days, Things About Me | Tags: , , , , , , ,

“The fear of death is more to be dreaded than fear itself.”

Publilius Syrus

 

I am afraid of dying. It keeps me up at night. Last night, while my husband slept, I held onto him and cried, because I knew that one day, I would lose him. Sometimes, it just hits me so hard it is absolutely debilitating. I am afraid of dying. I am afraid that the people I love will die. I think it’s irrational sometimes. Like a phobia. I have always been this way. I used to have (and I use this term hesitantly) out of body experiences. I would feel hell, I would see it. I was there. And it always scared me so tremendously that I literally could not do anything all day, but reassure myself that I have plenty of time to figure it out.

But what if I don’t? I could die right now. There are meth addicts in the area, what if one  breaks in and attacks me? (See how my root fear of death sprouts other slightly more irrational fears?) What if I have a terminal illness that has been slowly killing me since I was a child (and maybe I’ve been watching too much House)? Car wreck? Allergic reaction? Sometimes, I forget to breath, what if I forget how to breath for long enough to suffocate? I do realize that some of these may seem silly to you, but when you’re in the middle of a full blown panic attack, nothing is silly. It is all very serious.

I’m afraid of dying. I’m afraid of hell, I’m afraid that there is nothing, and I think I might be afraid of heaven. Is it because I don’t know what to expect? Maybe, or partly yes. I am afraid that the people I love won’t be there. Wherever I go after my heart stops beating, I don’t want to be alone.

I’m afraid that it just ends. What if I just cease to exist? Does that mean I didn’t have a soul after all? I think I have a soul. I guess I can’t prove it, but I still believe I do.

Every time I go through an episode, I start doubting everything I believe so heavily, it breaks my heart. I don’t know what to do? Do I seek professional help? I can’t afford it. But maybe I need it? I dunno.

I don’t have any answers, and if anybody, absolutely anybody has any input, please give it to me. Even if I don’t agree with your point of view, I would love to see it. Maybe it will help my perspective.