Scary Things
Not long ago, my girlfriend D-, (aka free_flying ,) and I had a conversation about how we each pursue a good adrenaline rush. We concluded that she seeks her thrills with her body. Her summer will not be complete without several trips to an amusement park. She drives fast and confidently, even in weather conditions that force me to tuck myself under a blanket on the sofa. She knows how to water ski, snowmobile and back up a trailer. Her career goal is business management and she’s moving along that track with astonishing speed. She’s straightforward and, occasionally confrontational. Her life is about action, achievement and movement.
My lifestyle, in contrast, flows slowly and deliberately. My character is cautious and rather calculating. I do not leap before I look. Ever. In fact, I rarely leap at all, even after careful consideration of all the potential variables inherent within a given situation.
In my childhood, neither my nature nor my environment encouraged physicality. Of course I sampled some adventures. I remember climbing trees I wasn’t supposed to climb. I remember a golden week of vacation when I taught myself to dive into a pool headfirst, even though I couldn’t actually swim. (I just fearlessly bobbed my way back to the side after each dive.) I think we’re all born knowing that we can, and should, seek a little danger-fueled adrenaline.
With few exceptions, though, such thrill seeking resulted in ... discomfort. My body was strong enough to tackle any of it, but my psyche was not so equipped. When I “acted out” people looked at me. God, I used to hate that. The adults weren’t so bad; all they did was tell me to knock it off. School peers, however, were entirely different. They didn’t say much, but I saw contempt, whether imagined or not, in their eyes. No matter what physical activity I attempted in their presence, I failed. Strengths I’d gained from living on a farm didn’t serve me in the gymnasium or on playground equipment. I knew how to catch goats. Not murder balls.
It wasn’t only self consciousness that held me back. I always feared that I would be seriously hurt by derring-do. As a natural loner, I knew there would likely be no one around to help if I got into trouble. It just seemed best to skip the sort of stuff that other kids enjoyed and stick to what I was good at … and what I was good at involved animals and books, not adrenaline.
Much of my aversion to thrill seeking followed me into adulthood. I still suspect that others are watching, and judging, me. I still imagine I will be alone or, worse, in charge of someone more vulnerable than me, if there is an accident. Now I also fear shoddy maintenance in theme parks and road rage.
My caution and paranoia must force me to lead a boring life, right? Actually, no. I’m a mental thrill seeker, you see. (Though, I think, most people would just call me morbid.)
In my early teens, perhaps thanks to Stephen King, I found that I could get “high” on fiction. I could experience a neuro-chemically fueled rush without putting myself in any real, physical danger. I got to feel alive … without tempting fate. As an additional benefit, I’d found something that had the ability to make me stop thinking about the neurotic, nagging uncertainties of my adolescence. (All the usual stuff. And a mother with a disconcerting habit of creating beautiful situations, relationships and homesteads and then tearing them apart. I think she was restless.) Horror and the supernatural gave me thrills and distraction. I was hooked.
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A while back,
drunken_boatman posted a list of his fears. I hope he didn’t misunderstand when I commented that I was having so much fun imagining a similar list that I had to steal his idea and take it to my journal. Some of the following terrors are not fun for me…but most of them are. I’m strange that way.
That which I fear:
- The following sentence: Genetic modification of the smallpox virus would make any cases of the disease easier to detect, say some scientists. (A headline I happened to spot right after reading drunken_boatman ’s entry.)
- Global Thermonuclear War ... and “bad” A.I. (ala Wargames).
- Bats. (A couple of childhood traumas are to blame. These days, I make an effort to attract them to my yard but I bet I’d still scream like a little girl should one wander into the house.)
- Stranger abduction.
- The Zuni fetish doll from Trilogy of Terror.
- Karen Black.
- Being burned alive.
- Being buried alive.
- The Bush Dynasty.
- Corporate America. And, worse, Corporate Media.
- Cancer.
- The Jersey Devil / Mothman. (I believe I saw something similar when I was a kid.)
- Maggots. (Stemming from a true childhood horror-house.)
- Will-o-wisps.
- Ball lightening. (Though I’d love to see it before I die.)
- A specific werewolf that used to come to me in my dreams.
- War. Any war. And all war. Amen.
- Bogs & Swamps.
- Mediums & Spiritualists.
- Ouija boards. (You couldn’t pay me to play with one of these…even though I read tarot cards. Go figure.)
- Tornado warnings. (‘Don’t know if my heart beats fast out of fear or excitement.)
- Demons
- Exorcism
- “Bad Seed” type children.
- The Dentist
- Implements of torture.
- The creepy girl from The Ring. (That fast-advance-toward-the-camera trick gets me where I live.)
- Rats.
- Rat Kings.
- The Nutcracker Suite.
- Historical Sadists. (I can’t recall the correct name of one: “Giles De Rhys”???)
- Grays.
- Fundamentalists.
- Pod People.
- Zombies. (When I drive late at night, I become seriously anxious if I see a human figure walking along a quiet road. If I stop will I be a good Samaritan or a zombie snack?)
- Satanists.
- Feral Pigs.
- Pigs in general.
- Centipedes.
- Insects from “the south”. (From fire ants to writing spiders-okay, insects and arachnids that live where it never freezes…they are too fierce and too big.)
- Martyrs.
- Serial killers.
- Sideshow performers.
- Realtors.
- People who make their living by collecting delinquent accounts. I can’t imagine having to do that. No wonder they are so mean.
I suppose I have to draw this to a close. I might sneak in to add more as they come to mind.
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Here’s a little finale:
Years ago, I spent 3 days and nights creating a website called Dark Touchstones. (According to the guestbook, I likely finished on December 8th, 1998.) I may have been at the apex of my first full-blown mania … or, maybe, it was just the first time I noticed that I was acting very strangely. I remember that I was incredibly happy with my ‘work’ and that my home life had disintergrated.
The site still stands, though most of the links to the wider web are long-defunct. The funny thing is that I’d nearly forgotten about it. Only the process of putting this list together brought it to mind. It’s a fine place to read a little more about why I like to be scared, for anyone that is so inclined.
click here to go there
(I wonder if it will ever just disappear. I might grab the text and post it as a comment to this entry. I find it frightening, in a not-fun way, that I can’t imagine being that web savvy again. I can’t remember how I did it and wouldn’t know how to even begin.)
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I’ve spent enough time on this little detour; back to real life. (The stuff that really scares me.)