Writing Challenge Q&A: Silly Things

Hello, hello!  Welcome to another installment of my impromptu Q&A session.  This week’s topic is brought to you by my friend and fellow Stonecoaster, Veda Boyd JonesShe chose number 28, which is “Post five things that make you laugh out loud.”  Only five?  Okay, I’ll see what I can come up with.  I guess the first thing people should be aware of is that my sense of humor isn’t exactly nice.  If you’ve ever seen the following diagram (or something similar) floating around social media sites, then you know what I mean.

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That about sums it up.  Although, maybe the overlap should be bigger.  Just saying.

 

1.  Mildly inappropriate humor.  Fart jokes, sexual innuendo, that kind of stuff.  Because, yes, I am an immature fifteen year old boy at heart.  I must stifle giggles when people talk about keeping abreast of things (haha… I said “breast”).  I adore the candied pecan seller at Scarborough Faire who encourages women and men alike to put his nuts in their mouths.  I have a filthy mind.  Sorry, not sorry.

2.  Stupid puns and joke memes.  One of my favorite memes is the three panel picture of the dog with his chew toy who tells the stupidest punny jokes ever (see below).  The tearable puns are usually amusing as well.  And I must admit that some of my friends are kept around in part because of their ability to pun.  You know who you are.

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That face gets me every time!

 

3.  Old cartoons.  Things like the Animaniacs and even Disney movies.  Mostly because they have a tendency to combine all of the things my inner immature fifteen year old loves.  Plus, I’m old enough to catch the jokes, now.  I laughed when I was a kid, but I do so even more nowadays.

4.  One of my favorite things to do is show off my favorite bands and their beautiful members.  The reactions of people who find out that the gorgeous women are actually men are hilarious.  Whether it’s a hanging jaw or some kind of denial, I always get a good laugh out of it.  My favorite reactions come after guys run their mouths about the attractive ladies, though.  Protest all you want, that person is still a man.  Okay, maybe I’m a little cruel.

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Tell him!  Or let me.

 

 5.  Most horror movies.  Despite my love of reading horror, I don’t watch many scary movies.  This is mostly because I find them more funny than anything.  I’m all like “Yes!  Run up the stairs instead of out the door!  Go greet the axe murderer!”  I just find the stupidity of the characters amusing as all get out.  Don’t tell me you’ve never laughed when the cheerleader got it.  I don’t believe you.

So, now you know the kinds of things that I find amusing (or at least some of them).  What about you?  Is my sense of humor too immature?  Or are you right there with me?  Please, feel free to send me your own lists!  I enjoy a good laugh.

Writing Challenge Q&A: First Love

Hello once again!  It’s time for the next installment of the impromptu Q&A.  This week’s topic is brought to you by my Minion (Joel Rede).  He chose 19, which is “discuss your first love.”  Why the Minion is interested in my lack of a love life is beyond me, but whatever.  This is actually something I don’t really talk about with anyone, so forgive me if it gets a little weird.

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Replace the house thing with Interwebz stalking.  Also, it’s always creepy .  But you accepted that.

So, what exactly is a first love?  I could tell you about my first crush, or the first boy I loved like a sibling, or I could simply say I’ve never had one because I’ve never dated anyone.  All of those stories would be true, but at the same time, they’d be a lie.  I think first love is something we have to identify for ourselves.  Each of our experiences are different.  Some first loves are amazing and some are heartbreaking.  Then, there’s the kind that’s neither breathtakingly beautiful nor Earth-shatteringly horrible, it simply is what it is.  That’s the way mine was.

Don’t get me wrong, my first love was a lot of things.  It was unconventional (back before “we met online” became an acceptable meet-cute outside of the nerd circle).  It was terrifying.  It was beautiful in its own way.  And, ultimately, it was probably unrequited.  But I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world, because it was exactly what I needed at the time.

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When I met First Love (the person), I was eighteen, maybe nineteen.  I was hanging out in the Yahoo chatrooms when I spotted a screenname that intrigued me.  After a few minutes of stalking him, I got bored, pounced on him, and stole his boxers (it was this whole running joke between my friends and I back then, don’t ask).  We goofed around and talked in the chatroom for a while, then he eventually PMed me and the rest was history as they say.

Back then, I was in a really dark place.  First Love was the first person I felt comfortable enough showing the darkness to and he accepted it.  He never tried to tell me I shouldn’t be having those thoughts or feelings.  He didn’t try to change me.  He simply supported me when I needed it and talked me through things when I needed a dialogue.  It was terrifying, because he was the first person to see all the parts of myself that I hate and claim to love me for it.  Even when I pushed away, he was there.  Granted, he lives in the UK, so I never had to deal with any of those “let’s meet” conversations (which I probably would’ve shut down right away), but for many years, he was there just to talk to and be sweet talked by.  Like I said, it was what I needed at the time.

Not to mention his influence on my music tastes and the like.  I was mostly punk and metal before First Love came around.  Ugh.  The things we do for love.  But, eventually life started getting in the way.  We both had University (his word, not mine).  Our chances to talk faded away.  I’m glad I got to know him, but I’m happy he got a life outside of the Interwebz.  He deserves so much better than talking to me all the time.

Feel free to discuss your first love!  You know where to find me.

Writing Challenge Q&A: Struggles

Hello, hello!  As you may know, last week I decided to do a writing challenged turned Q&A thing (see it here).  If you haven’t chosen a number, but are still interested in doing so, feel free!  I discussed day 29 last week.  Day 8 is up today.  And days 19, 28, 12, 15, and 26 are coming up in that order (it’s a first come, first served order).  Today’s topic is courtesy of Dallas Funk.  She chose day 8, which is “share something you struggle with.”  Her only stipulation was that it be about more than my struggle to meet my writing goals, because she wants to learn something new about me.  So, I guess I’ll write about the fact that I struggle with expressing myself.

Untitled-1 It’s kind of like that.  But don’t get me wrong, it’s mostly just a face-to-face and/or an emotional thing.  In face-to-face conversations, I mostly just feel awkward when I’m asked for my opinion or whatever, so I end up uh-ing a lot while my brain plots out a response or I just go with the old standbys “I don’t know” or “I don’t care.”  Then there’re those moments when I give a way too concise answer and people look at me like I’m supposed to say more because apparently conciseness isn’t conducive to small talk.  That’s why I like the Interwebz and texting.  I can still have a real-time talk, but I can take my time to think through an answer without feeling like I’m being put on the spot.

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“Uh… I don’t know?”

 

Even worse than all of that, though, is when I have to express myself emotionally.  I laugh, I smile, I cry.  That’s about it.  It’s not like I can jump up and down when I’m excited.  I can’t scream or punch things when I’m angry.  So, negative emotions come out as tears (which only manages to piss me off more because crying is weak even though I know it’s really not).  Positive emotions come out as a smile or a laugh or whatever.  And I’m not blaming this entirely on the fact that I can’t do most of the physical responses, it’s actually mostly because I’m a bottler by nature.  I push emotions deep down into the abyss of my soul where they belong.

The weirdest part is that I don’t have much trouble expressing these things in my writing.  Granted, most of my main characters tend to be fairly reserved with their emotions, but they’re better at expressing themselves than I am.  Maybe it was all of those psychology classes I took that helped.  Who knows?  But I can say that I’m trying to work on learning to express myself better, whether in day-to-day conversation or with my emotions.  The latter is proving the most difficult.  And my hermit-ness doesn’t really help with the former.

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Maybe watching Inside Out would help.

 

What about you?  What do you struggle with?

Until next week!

P.S. I’m debating on posting a poem I wrote in undergrad one of these Fridays.  Anyone interested in that?  After all, it’s National Poetry Month.  But if no one is interested, I won’t do it.

Writing Challenge Turned Q&A

Hello again!  It’s that time of year again, where people start posting those weird “30 Day Writing Challenge” things.  They always sound like a fun idea and every time I see one, I say that I should do it, but then I read the “challenges.”  Honestly, they’re rarely creative and most often read as a list of Q&A topics.  So, since I’m running low on things to ramble about, I thought I’d post one of these challenges here and let you guys pick a number between 1 and 30 (only one number per person, so choose wisely)!  Each week, I’ll do one of the challenges you guys pick.  I can think of a few people who will participate, so this should keep me busy for a few weeks at least.

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It was the first list Google came up with.  Pick a number and I’ll do the corresponding exercise!

 

To start this off randomly, I asked a friend to pick a number, but to be fair she had no idea why I asked and hadn’t seen the list, so she gets another number if she wants.  Anyway, she chose 29.  I suppose that means that I’m talking about my goals for next month!

Honestly, I don’t really plan that far ahead.  I have trouble making up weekly goals, let alone monthly.  I have my writing goals (which I’ve been struggling with).  I’m trying to write at least 4,500 words a week, so I’m aiming for around 18,000 words for April.  Otherwise, I want to post consistently on my author pages and of course do the weekly blog.  I also want to finish the book I’m reading in the next couple of weeks.  That’s about it, really.

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Maybe I should use a Daruma doll for my goals.  I have a blank one somewhere.

 

If you’ve been stalking me, you know that I’m also trying to be better about keeping in touch with people.  It’s not an easy thing, but I’m going to keep working at it.  I did talk to someone last week about creating a daily goal calendar, though, so socializing does help!  I already keep track of my word count, but it hasn’t been a big motivator lately.  The daily goal calendar involves using stickers to denote certain achievements depending on what you want to accomplish and creating a key  (example: gold star = 500 words, blue dot = half an hour of reading, purple heart = an hour of family time, etc.), then marking down what you do each day.  I’m going to try to create a computer version for April to see if something visual like that helps me.

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The example my friend sent me.

 

Anyway, my goals are basically the same as usual, but with a new way to keep track.  That’s all I really have to say on that.

What do you guys think about the whole picking a number thing?  If you’d like to choose one, comment here or find me on social media (Facebook, Twitter, or G+).  I’m looking forward to seeing who chooses what!

See if you next week!

Murphy’s Law for Cripples

Howdy, howdy.  Yesterday (actually, it’s today as I’m writing this) was (is?) one of those days.  It’s always nice to wake up to one of your key pieces of machinery (naturally one of the few you don’t have a good spare for) being dead (again).  Yes, the hydraulics on my patient lift (the thing that transfers me from bed to chair, etc.) decided it would be fun to go out in the middle of the night.  I was stuck in bed until 4:00, 4:30, which didn’t really bother me aside from zapping any desire to be productive.  And surprisingly, the medical equipment company sent someone out to look at it right away.

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Life rises to the challenge.  Always.

 

Bad news!  The hydraulic pump is dead (you don’t say?!).  I’ve had this particular lift less than four years and this is the third or fourth time they’ve had to replace the pump.  Normally, it gives us a little warning before performing a dramatic death scene, so we have time to fix it, but not this time.  Granted, I’d lost complete faith in this piece of equipment long ago (after all, at least two of the replacement pumps had the following sticker on them, so trust is an issue), but I have no choice except to use it (it’s like my relationship with elevators: hate/no choice).  Yeah.

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Front.  They couldn’t spell front.  How can I trust a company that can’t spell FRONT?

 

So, I was stuck in bed trying not to go down that “every bad outcome of this scenario” rabbit hole, and succeeding quite well with not panicking, when the “good” news came.  They (the medical company) had a spare that we can borrow until mine gets fixed or replaced.  The problem?  It’s electric, so it’s not great for me in the first place.  Plus there’re weird boxes that get in the way of my feet.  And I’ve never used one before, so it’s a little terrifying.  When I get nervous, I ask stupid questions and point out obvious problems and all of that, which annoys the person taking care of me (namely Dad) because he’s also trying to figure out how to make it work, which makes him snappy.  On top of everything else, we were both a little hangry.  Needless to say, issues arose.

But, I made it to my chair (which has also been acting up) without getting anything broken.  I tried to figure out some Medicare problems I’ve been having.  Then I wrote this.  I’m officially done with today (yesterday as you’re reading this).

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So done.

 

So, what does all of this mean?  Absolutely nothing.  I needed to rant and I needed a blog topic.  You can take it as a glance into cripple problems if you want.  Feel free to send me a rant since you’ve made it this far!  I’ll gladly listen to your woes since you paid attention to mine.  Fingers crossed tomorrow is better.  Have a wonderful week, everyone!

Date With A Dentist

Hello, hello!  I have nothing to ramble about, so this is probably going to be shorter than usual.  I suppose I should say that I have been writing again the past couple of weeks (only four days a week so far, but that’s better than nothing).  I’ve been trying to socialize a little.  Had a movie date on Monday with a friend.  Go watch Kinky Boots if you haven’t already!  Anyway, yesterday I had a dentist appointment, which is pretty much the only thing I have to talk about (sad, I know).

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It’s on Netflix.  You have no excuse.

 

I go to Forney Wellness for my dental hygiene needs.  I totally recommend them.  At least one of the dentists and one of the hygienists have experience working with people in wheelchairs, which is pretty important to me.  Everyone is nice.  It’s a little expensive (though not the worst I’ve come across by far) and they have a tendency to tell me a different price each time.  But they’re generally great, at least for cleanings (I haven’t had to have any other procedures done *knocks on wood*), and I only see them twice a year, so it’s really not that bad moneywise.

Now, I fully admit that I hate going to the dentist.  You can probably tell by the fact that dentists are demons in pretty much all of my stories when they pop up.  I even bit one as a child (yeah, I was that kid, but she totally deserved it).  Despite all that, my dad and I have a running joke about going to Forney Wellness, which is totally worth the usual anxiety.  First, realize that they have this water pick scraper tool called a Lil Beaver 2.0.

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Oh, Internet.  You always know what I need.

 

So, being the perverts we are, we giggle like little schoolgirls a the prospect of me having a beaver in my mouth.  It’s even better when the fact that it’s wet comes up.  And that it’s expensive and never as pleasant as one would hope.  But we can’t be too loud.  There are usually children around, after all.  Yeah, going to the dentist as an adult is definitely more entertaining.

Anyway!  Not that anyone really wants to know, but I’m still cavity free.  There are spots to watch, but there always are.  What does this mean?  I can eat all the things guilt free!

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Like that.  Only without the makeup.

 

Wow, I almost managed to ramble the usual amount.  Awesome!  But, in conclusion, go check out Forney Wellness if you’re in the area and looking for a dentist.  Also, feel free to share your funniest/scariest/whateverest dentist story!  Do you have running jokes about your dental hygiene?  Share those too!

J-Rock: How I Became A Fangirl

Howdy all!  Last week, I asked for some suggestions on what to blog about, so Lew and Joe asked how I got into J-Pop/Rock.  It’s not really that long or interesting of a story, but they wanted to know.  So, please excuse me while I fangirl (get overly excited, squee, and babble on about a certain subject) over some of my favorite music and musicians while I relive those early days.

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And there are definitely some pretty men.  That’s Miyavi, by the way.

 

I guess I got into Japanese music the same way a lot of people do: anime.  I grew up with the Americanized version of Sailor Moon, then Pokémon and Digimon and Cardcaptor Sakura and all of that came along.  But it wasn’t until I was sixteen or seventeen (around the time I started looking to the Internet for friends instead of hanging out with my sister and her friends) when I began searching for fansubs and the original versions of the shows that I started my brief voyage into the world of J-Pop, then my descent into J-Rock.

It wasn’t just anime exposing me to the music, but also the friends I was making by hanging out in anime chatrooms.  (Do you even remember those?  The Yahoo chats?  Oh how I miss those days.)  It takes a lot for a theme song to entice me into looking it up, so I was a total n00b to the music compared to most of the people I met.  So, I listened to every song people recommended.  For example, one of the people I hung out with was a rabid fan of Neon Genesis Evangelion, so for a while, I knew every song (and every version) in that series because he would insist I listen to them.  It wasn’t that I enjoyed everything I heard, but I was open to the possibility that I might like it.

Then, I got into YouTube.  Back in the day, before Google and Vevo and all of the legal stuff, YouTube was a wonderland of obscure music.  Plus, it was great about recommending things based (no matter how remotely) on whatever you were watching instead of just suggesting whatever happens to be popular that week, which is how I found my way into J-Rock and all its lovely subgenres.  I had my first brush with bands like Dir en grey (awesome if you like metal), Buck-Tick (kind of an 80s vibe), Versailles (symphonic metal), and Miyavi (guitarist).  From there, I just kind of dug around on my own to find things that I adore.  It also doesn’t hurt that most of the beautiful women are actually men (a fangirl topic for another day).

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Versailles.  They’re all men.  Yes, even him.

.

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Exist Trace.  And they’re all women.

 

It was just something that happened.  There was no big plan involved.  It was just a new obsession stemming from an old one, like a slow descent into madness.  We all have these types of love, so tell me about yours.  What’s your random obsession that makes people wonder how you got into it?  And how’d it happen?

Can’t Get Through The Portal

Hi there!  Today, a friend asked me what I had read lately and suggested blogging about that, but then I realized that I haven’t read anything since late November.  Not even manga.  It was actually a strange revelation.  I haven’t read anything since I started getting disgusted with the whole writing/feedback process.  The more I think about it, the more I notice a strange correlation between my writing productivity and how much I read (when one goes up, so does the other).  Is this a common thing?  Do reading slumps exist?  Apparently they do, so allow me to ramble for a bit.

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It’s kind of like that.

Don’t get me wrong… I’ve tried reading things off and on, especially when I wasn’t writing anything, but no matter how excited I was for a book, a few pages in and I was ready to quit.  It was like watching a movie or a tv show (both of which can be great), instead of stepping through a portal and living in another world (what reading usually does for me).  In other words, I’m seeing what’s happening, but I just can’t bring myself to care or participate.  And I can’t even blame the books.  It’s not like when I was an undergrad and had to slog my way through the “classics.”  These are books by my favorite authors, things I’ve been looking forward to.  I find it really weird.

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Pick a portal, any portal.

Part of me wonders if maybe it’s some crazy delayed post-MFA depression or something.  You know, the kind everyone warns you not to slip into?  The kind where you stop writing and reading and doing all the things you planned on doing because what’s the point without having that community to help you along?  I avoided it for about a year.  I wrote steadily and read regularly.  Is it even possible that it’s kicking in this far out from graduation?  Maybe it is.  But it needs to stop.  I’m done with wallowing.  Really.  I swear.

Was I convincing?  Didn’t think so.  I am, however, getting slowly back on the writing horse.  I admit that I’m not back to my usual schedule yet, but I’m getting there.  Hopefully this means that I’ll be able to step through a portal into a good book soon.  I haven’t had any trouble getting into the stories I’ve been critiquing, which I’m taking as another good sign.  I don’t know what else to do except to keep trying until I find that book capable of yanking me inside.

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It’s a portal… of books.  Get it?

 

What about you?   Have you ever hit a reading slump?  What book was the one that finally pulled you out of it?  If it wasn’t a book, then what helped you?  I’d love to hear your harrowing stories of breaking through the blocked portal!  Also, if you have any recommendations for books that I should be reading, please feel free to send some titles or author names my way.

Snail Mail: A Forgotten Art

Hello all!  Today, I’d like to talk a little about the forgotten art of letter writing.  Most of the year, I don’t really think about it, but around Christmas and family birthdays, the lack of snail mail becomes quite noticeable.  Each year we receive fewer Christmas cards.  For instance, this year we sent out about three times as many as we got.  We used to get just as many as we sent.  I’m not complaining, it’s just an observation.  It got me thinking about the yearly lack of letters (not that I can say much since I don’t send many either), so I thought I’d ramble a bit about it.

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I’m actually one of the lucky few.  I receive letters pretty regularly (granted, they’re from my sister in prison, so they usually say basically the same thing, but a letter’s a letter).  It’s a subject I talk about with my friends a lot, and we all agree that we should start writing to each other more often, but we never do.  Why?  When did writing a quick note, stuffing it in an envelope, and putting it in the mail become such a hassle?  People blame the Internet for making us lazy, but is that really it?  I mean, it takes just as much effort to send an email or PM or whatever as it does to write a letter, it’s simply a different kind of effort.  Don’t believe me?  Then you’ve obviously never taught someone how to text or anything.

In a lot of ways, social media makes keeping in touch easier, but it’s really superficial.  Don’t get me wrong, since most of my friends live far away from me, I love that social media keeps me up-to-date with them.  I’m just saying that it also gives me the option of stalking these friends without actually interacting with them, like “oh hey!  He posted something today.  He’s alive.  I’ll check in with him later.”  But later never comes because it’s an endless cycle.  You can’t do that with letters.  In letters and cards, people often choose to let you deeper into their lives than “here’s a picture of my dinner!” or “look at my feet in this weird beach pic!” or whatever.  Letters are personal.

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Letters and cards also show that people are thinking about you.  They require forethought, especially for events like birthdays and holidays.  I love all of the birthday messages I get on Facebook (from the “happy birthday!” messages to the more personalized ones), but I always wonder what would happen if I turned off the notification.  How many people would actually remember without Facebook telling them?  A birthday card in the mail means someone put me in their calendar.  It’s just really sweet.

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Plus, it gives you an excuse to buy pretty pens.

 

Like I said, I can’t say much since I’m not very good about writing letters and sending cards and all that, but I do recognize that it’s a dying art form.  I think it would be neat to get back into it, especially with friends.  So, go out there and show someone you’re thinking about them outside of cyberspace.  Write a note.  If you don’t want to spend money on a stamp and they live close enough, slip it under their door or put it somewhere they’ll find it.  Bring back the letter in all its glory!  Or don’t.  Whatever floats your boat.

Irrational Fears

Hello, hello!  Happy New Year!  Is it everything you were hoping for thus far?  Mine’s been pretty peaceful, which is why I’m not entirely sure why I’m being plagued by irrational fears.  You know, when you get that weight right in the center of your chest?  That trembly feeling that invades every waking moment?  At least until the cause passes, then you’re fine?  Yeah, it’s been like that for the past few days.  I just don’t know the reason this time.

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Seems legit.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of odd fears, but I usually know what triggers them.  I’m not fond of things suspended in the air (bridges, elevators, and the like).  That’s probably because of recurring nightmares of driving off a bridge into the river below.  I also fear being around grabby people (I blame doctors and nurses who don’t ask before they attempt to move my arms and legs, which results in pain or worse).  Needles.  Large dogs (another recurring nightmare).  Storms.  The doorbell or someone knocking on the door (no idea why on this one).  The list goes on.

I even get a minor case of the terrors when we’re going somewhere where I’m not familiar with the roads.  Bumpy roads are a pain (literally), so of course my mind fills with visions of potholes and speed bumps and unkempt dirt roads the whole way to our destination (and that’s not including the surprise jolts of adrenalin brought about by Texas drivers).  That’s just the way my mind works.  Thankfully, however, Google street view has helped with this particular fear a lot.

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I guess “drive friendly” means try your damnedest to get your car to kiss another one in the most violent way possible.

 

But none of that explains the weight and trembles I’ve felt the last few days.  The only things I can think of in the near future are a trip to the DMV (I’ve already looked at the roads), my birthday (they’ve never bothered me before), and an event at a hospital (I’ve been there before).  Who knows?  Maybe I’m just freaking out because I’m feeling a little lost.  Maybe it’s something I’m just not thinking of.  Maybe I’ll never know what it is and it’ll fade away as mysteriously as it came on.  Fear can be a funny beast that way.

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Still haven’t seen this, but he seemed appropriate.

 

Anyway, this has been a glimpse into my paranoid mind.  I suppose it’s good practice, looking at some of the minor fears that can weigh on people.  They’re potential character traits.  Someone who faints every time the doorbell rings?  I could write that.  How about you?  Any fears that you feel silly for having?  What about the ones that terrify you?  Feel free to share some here or on Facebook or Twitter or G+.

I’m not sure what to post about next week, so feel free to send me some ideas or questions.  Have a wonderful week!