Something I don't understand

My mind plays a very strange trick on me that's getting more and more noticeable every year. When I watch a movie or TV show (something I rarely do) and the main characters are in their early-to-mid 30s they seem so young and vibrant. It seems like the prime of life! But whenever I tell people my age (which is not yet in the early-to-midarly 30s range) I suddenly feel haggard, hoary* and hag-like (alliteration - get on that train!). Especially when said people are like 23 and I realize that they were still in middle school my freshman year of college. When I tell them my age they get this look on their faces as though all of the sudden wrinkles are going to explode forth from my face to smother them in ancientness.

Look out! It's old age and it's coming to get us!!

I know logically in a tiny part of my brain that I am a spring chicken; a wealth of youth and vigor or something. I'm not even as old as those people in movies/TV who are depicted as being the *it* age. So how can I overcome this worry and paranoia that makes me want to be a cliche and start lying about my age?

*Okay, this is not normally a word I use but thesaurus.com promised me it was legit.

Hair and gone

After writing that post about zombies, I stopped having zombie nightmares which was awesome. No more waking up, heart pounding and feet ready for running because I was half-convinced there were zombies under my bed. HOORAY! But then a new type of nightmare emerged: finding that large chunks of hair had fallen from my head!



Now upon waking I'm forced to check the mirror every day, glaring fiercely at my scalp and trying to decide if I have the same amount of hair as I did yesterday. I've become convinced that it's falling out and I have no idea what to do. Am I being paranoid or just aware? Is worrying about it a self-fulfilling prophecy? Maybe if I am losing precious hairs it's because the stress of worrying over my potential baldness is causing them to fall.


So I'm trying to decide on a course of action. With zombie-related fears one can come up with some sort of plan, but how does one plan for baldness? I could cut my hair way short so it's easier to fluff out or leave it long so I can do a comb over. I could dye it blond in the hopes that if scalp is showing through it will blend in better with the color or dye it brown in case there are just a whole bunch of very light-colored hairs that can't be seen now but will all the sudden appear when darkened. I could even go drastic and buzz/shave my head like a preemptive strike. After all, Demi Moore and Sigourney Weaver have already rocked that look and they weren't half bad!



In the end I'm just not sure what the best route to take is. Oh well, at least I have all those hats and wigs if I should go bald. I can be like Princess Di and make the giant floppy hat fashionable again. I'm sure I could start a fashion trend, since after all - who wouldn't want to be me?

I could totally pull all of these off.

Zombie Apocalypse keeping me up at night

Lately I've become increasingly concerned about a pending zombie doom. I'm not sure if it's because of the recent flood of movies, books, articles, comics, etc. all about zombies; or if I deep down in some ancient and primal part of my soul I sense that it's inevitable. After all, even the Bible talks about the undead (or "differently alive," if you're being politically correct). True, the Bible also includes The Song of Solomon, arguably the giggliest and funniest book of scripture ever, but I’m pretty sure the zombie part is for reals.

This is doctrinal, guys.

Most upsetting about this obsession with zombies are the torturous dreams I've had about trying to survive in a post-zombie-apocalyptic world. It got to be too much, watching all my dream loved-ones either get turned or eaten. Never mind that upon waking I realized none of my actual friends and family were portrayed in my dream (obviously I just love them too much to think of them that way; that, or my subconscious has an outside casting director and my real friends and family didn't make the cut), it was still horribly depressing and what's more, my dream self is always woefully unprepared for the attack. So it's clear to me that this is a warning from a higher power that I need to get in gear and get a plan - a good one - for when the zombies come.

My childhood home had the perfect setup. Conveniently located in a basement room where we kept our dried goods, candles, matches, water, etc. in case of emergencies was some sort of giant cement alcove with a small opening. While I always imagined that there might actually be bodies in that opening (seriously, what else was it for??), it would also be the perfect place to hide my body until the zombies got hungry and went looking for something else to eat. There was food, light, and a few impenetrable feet of concrete. But my family moved to Idaho, and our new basement has no such impenetrable fortress. Even worse, there’s a sliding glass door! I ask you, how will that keep zombies out? I’m surprised that my parents didn’t take that into account when they bought the house.

Oh hey, we *love* that movie! Can we just come in and watch with you?

So now my plan has been forced to change. After reading this brilliant article about how much everyone else’s awesome plans suck, I’ve carefully thought out multiple different scenarios and then one by one rejected them all:

• After my folks’ basement, WalMart seemed the next best thing. But again there’s the glass door problem and also I’m sure that’s going to be a lot of people’s plan. While having lots of people around when the zombies come is good for tripping others and running while the zombies get them (also good in dinosaur attacks), it’s not so good for making the food last. Also, all of those people would just have the potential to suddenly become the enemy, and this enemy multiplies like crazy.
• I could try to find some ancient monastery or convent somewhere. After all, they’re usually isolated, they tend to have a food storage of some sort, lots of books to read, and maybe a really good garden out back. But here’s the problem: already populated with either nuns or monks – possibly *zombie* nuns or monks. Also, those are usually only found in Europe.
• I secretly buy dozens of guns, lots and lots of ammo, and a motorcycle. I become the badass superheroine from the movies, strap all the guns on, and always keep riding. The problem with this is funding. I have no such money for guns, ammo, or bikes. And where would I get gasoline when the zombies have eaten all the gas station attendants? Too bad I'm outta gas, cause I look totally awesome.

So finally, I came up with the only realistic solution: I just give in, find the least aggressive zombie and allow it to bite me so that I become one of them. After all, there are going to be billions – what’s the point in hiding? It’s not like they can’t outwait me since they're dead and have nothing better to do. I’ve already tried out the look, and it’s not too bad. I think I could pull it off. But just know: I’ll be coming for your brains first.

Come into my parlor...

I used to be a peaceful person. I used to try and embody the idea of "all God's creatures got a place in the choir" and "do unto others..." etc. by being kind to all living things, even ants and slugs. Then one day all that changed.


My parents moved to the edge of the wilderness, or at least the edge of a gully that leads to wilderness somewhere. While this means some really sweet vistas, it also means that a doggy door might be a stupid idea (oh hello Mr. Coyote!), and that we get tons more bugs. At first, I was inclined to reluctantly welcome the one or two spiders I started finding. I mean, yes they were disgustingly, fear-inducingly HUGE,
Think this but bigger. And maybe less whiny.


but they showed up around the same time that like a zillion flies moved in. I figured that all spiders do is be incredibly creepy, whereas flies poop in my food and laugh while they do it; and since spiders kill the flies they're an improvement right? Oh how wrong I was. SO WRONG!

It turns out that there weren’t one or two spiders, and they weren’t the plain old wolf spiders I knew from my childhood home of KY. These were in fact dozens of hobo spiders (note: not the satchel carrying, rail riding type of hobo my sister Rachel pictures), and here are some little facts – or at least soundly believed ideas – about hobo spiders:

• They came into my house, not to build a tiny campfire and cook tins of beans, but to do the nasty. Yes, it’s mating season, and nothing puts them in the mood more than hiding out in cozy basements and terrorizing innocent girls who climb on chairs screaming, while uncaring brothers laugh raucously from the upstairs.
  




• All hardware stores and aisles that contain insecticides stock up on sticky traps, because hobo spiders can hold their breath, thus rendering normal spray useless against their super powers. Also, I totally got stuck in a sticky trap and it took me like five minutes to get free. Those are no laughing matter!
  




• They are extremely aggressive and will chase people rather than run away. And yes, logic would point out that humans are a thousand times bigger, but click here at your own risk (these are really gross) to see the possible results of a hobo spider bite. Also, they have eight legs. EIGHT LEGS!! We've all seen Arachnaphobia. I'm not sure which of these two is scarier.

Upon learning all of these facts (or widely held beliefs that I’m not prepared to question) we decided that flies or no, the spiders had to go. We first attempted just to suck them up with the vacuum hose, but while the thunking sounds they made were really satisfying, there were too many of them. So we figured that despite being able to hold their breath (how creepy is that? It implies intelligence high enough to recognize aerosol spray cans!) no spider could withstand a few dozen bug bombs set off all over the house. Take that, suckas!

So, let this be a warning to humans that the hobos are coming, and a warning to spiders: stay out of my house, biotches. We’re afraid to get near enough to squish you, but not afraid to fog your many legged butts.

Helpless

Despite the fact that I've lived somewhat successfully on my own for a few years now, these last few months I've gotten quite comfortable living at home. I won't say I've been waited on hand and foot, but setting the table and doing dishes is a much easier burden than actually cooking edible meals. However, I didn't realize just how dependant I'd become on someone else's kitchen know-how until my mom abandoned us this weekend.

Before she left she stocked the fridge and freezer with all manner of digestibles; fruit, vegetables, pork chops, chicken, and tons of pre-cooked frozen junk. I scorned the idea that we would not be able to fend for ourselves, that she *needed* to buy all that stuff. After all, she was leaving behind my adult brother, my adult father, and me - the epitome of self-reliance. Oh, how my scorn was in vain! OH HOW WE NEED YOU, MOM!

All of the sudden I open the fridge and feel completely helpless when I fail to see a salad, side dish, and main course of some sort. There are no caseroles waiting for me. Who the heck knows what to do with pork chops? NOT ME. I suddenly remember that when I'm on my own I rely mainly on spaghetti, Burger King, and the Chinese Buffet.

Guys, I think it's possible that if my mom stays away for the 3 weeks she planned... we may die. It's been nice knowing you.

HORRORS!

This article about a 43-foot long prehistoric snake is terrifying. Absolutely TERRIFYING.


Not because I think a giant snake is going to pop out of the sewer or drain and eat me (although that idea opens up whole new avenues of fear), but rather because it lends a hint of credibility to all those Anaconda movies.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

(Incidentally, have you ever tried saying "horrors" out loud without giggling at what it sounds like? Try it, you know you want to!)

Oh great.

Something new to add to my list of totally rational and really scary fears (courtesy of postsecret):

Peacocks - angels or demons?

I'd like to discuss an animal that fascinates and creeps me out: the peacock. Without doubt, these birds fire off every "oooo prettyyyy" neuron in my brain. They've got these awesome glisteny feathers that have all the colors of an oilslick (you know you love those as much as I do),




they have a little crown of tiny feathers like some awesome Marti Gras hat on their heads,





and they can make their tails into a fan of gaudy glory.




What more could I ask in a bird than this? How about that they also come in delightful white?

Done!







But then there's the dark side of peacocks. I don't know how many of you out there have actually met peacocks, but until I went to Europe a few summers ago, I had only dreamed of meeting one. That dream was torn apart when I found out that, like supermodels, peacocks are only pretty from far faaar away.







Up close those glorious fanned tails snap shut, the feathered bodies narrow into sleek bird-arrows, and they beging hunting unsuspecting and mistakenly delighted tourists like a pack of raptors, bighting at ankles and screaming in fury.

Even worse is when the peacocks hide in the woods and make a cry that sounds a lot like "Help! Help!" One can only assume that their purpose for these cries is that they have a relationship with a pack of nearby wolves (much like the ravens of Yellowstone) and they are pretending to be a lost child so that you'll foolishly leave the safety of the tourist trails and be lured away to a waiting wolf pack. Who knows what the peacocks get out of it, because I'm pretty sure they only bite people out of spite and not hunger.



So while they are beautiful and fabulous, I think that peacocks might just be the devil in bird form. And I suppose that would make pigeons their small smelly demonic minions!

Childhood fears - still FREAKIN' SCARY

Okay, these are the things that scared me during my childhood. After some recent reflection, I think you'll all have to agree that these things are really horrifying for adults as well, and that I was wise beyond my years.

The dog-beasts from "Ghostbusters".

Also, the librarian ghost from "Ghostbusters".


These HORRIFYING goblin things from "The Hobbit" (they sing! And swirl around in trippy and bizarre fashions!).


The Jabberwocky from "Alice in Wonderland" (live action).

image could not be found, instead click here for terrifying video footage - but fast forward to minute 3 because the rest is hecka boring

Carol Channing.


The illustrations from the Scary Stories books.

Any iteration of Tim Curry.

The Skekis from "The Dark Crystal". Maybe just "The Dark Crystal" in general, and we'll throw in "The Labyrinth" for good measure.

Of course, since then I've added a few new phobias. I guess I should really just find a small cabin in the middle of nowhere and hide, because this world is just too crazy frightening for me.