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You’re scaring me

Posted on Saturday, February 21, 2009 in humor, Me

Here’s what scares me…


Quimet CanyonI’m sure that if I get on a ledge without a sturdy and high barrier, I will just throw myself off. I went to Ouimet Canyon, in Canada, and had to literally crawl out on the decking to look down. I did this in full view of a family with children. It was either crawl out and take a look, or waste the entire drive out there. I looked like a fool, but I felt pretty damn brave. I was trusting in the carpentry ability of people I did not know and who live somewhere even colder than I do. The platforms looked new and not too weathered, so I told myself to keeping breathing and forged ahead. Breathe in; right leg and right arm. Breathe out; left leg and left arm. I crawled like a nervous bear.

When I fly in my dreams I do not soar like an eagle. I float like someone too scared to get out of the shallow end of the pool. I hover about 3 feet off the ground. No higher. I have to fly around trees and gravestones and such. I don’t go very fast either. You know if you fall in your dream, you die.


I’m never going. Nothing good happens there.  Watch any science fiction movie. If aliens come and ask me to go along with them, I’m not even going to stick around long enough to answer. HabMoo and I have a pact that neither of us will go. Because even if they say they are from Alpha Centauri, they might really be from Mars. I will go to That’s totally different. I like Skittles and the cats like Whiskas.


I learned to swim, barely. I have even snorkled. But I do not get out over my head. No, no, no. I’ve breathed water into my nose before. It hurts. I have no real reason to fear the water. I sort of like going out on boats. But I want to be able to see the shore. A lake is better than the ocean. A nice stream is really the best.

Contact with my eyes or my wrists

I have a friend with tattoos on her wrists. I can’t even look at them. They horrify me. You can see the blood from your very own body in those veins at your wrists. Just stay away. That’s really the only place you can see my veins, other than my eyes.

I’d rather go to the gynecologist than the eye doctor. During a pelvic exam you’re not asked to answer questions you just can’t answer. I don’t know if this image is more clear than that one. I’m sorry, but sometimes I just can’t tell. And I hate getting answers wrong. And I blink. You’re supposed to blink. It’s good for your eyes. I will never win a staring contest. I really try to keep my eye open during that part where they test your pressure or whatever it is they do. I don’t even want to think about it.

Black ice

I totally blame the news media for this one. They make it sound like some evil gremlin just hiding out where you least expect it. It looks like nothing special. But it could be the reason for a 12-car pile up. It’s like some sort of environmental land mine. It’s not even black; it’s transparent. There could be black ice in your shower for all you know. Even if your tub is pink like mine. You have to be ever vigilant.

Drawing blood

I don’t mind getting a shot. But I hate having blood drawn. I have tiny little veins and they collapse easily. I have had nurses give up on trying to get blood out of me. They’ve made me come back on another day when a more veteran blood-drawer will be in the office. So mostly I fear being stuck because they most often do it in my hand, dangerously close to my wrists, and because it produces so much stress in the nurse. I hate making people feel bad. But three tries is all I ever give them.

Coming back as a chicken in the same neighborhood as vampire bats

Just go look at the photos here. You’ll understand after looking at the photos. Although I might have to rethink this one. Perhaps a vampire bat could be trained to draw blood for medical tests. I mean the chickens don’t seem to be bothered.

Feb. 24 update.
Thanks to the people at Mind Hacks I’m now also scared of tripping and impaling myself on the keys left in the door. And thanks to unfabulouz I’m also scared of falling the shower (perhaps due to black ice) and landing eye first on the plumbing.

  1. Hey, am I the friend with tattoos on her wrists? Because it’s not really on my wrist, see.

    I am with you on drowning and Mars. I don’t want to run into Santa being enslaved on Mars, thank you very much.

    As for the blood drawing, I can sympathize, though I don’t fear it. Lots of time, they have to do the back of the hand thing to me, too. What I really hate is when they move the needle while it’s INSIDE your skin. That hurts.

  2. Nope, I have other friends with tats. One of the poodle girls has stars on her wrists. Yours are just fine. Yours are cool, in fact.

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