Lost Like This

My sense of direction has never been fantastic. 

It is the real reason why a smaller campus is nice for me, though I'll admit that I've certainly gotten lost within small campus areas too. 

…Okay, within buildings.  I've gotten lost within a building or five.

Like, this one building on the smaller of my college campuses might as well be like that Escher painting. 
 



Once, as an undergrad, I got lost on the other side of campus because I had gone to the other dining hall. 

I had to call my friend from home, who had been there maybe once, to tell me how to get back to my dorm.
 

Of course, I had gotten stuck in my own dorm at one point before that… 
 

This one Summer, I was taking a class for college at my old high school.  

I figured, "Yeah, I remember this place.  It'll be a breeze getting around."

First of all, that saying, "You can't go home again" can mean a lot of things. 

In terms of my old high school, it means some major renovations were being made and the entire thing not only looked very different, but was actually being gutted at the time. 

So, after my class, I go to leave.  
I remember that the doors lead, you know... out. 

…And, technically speaking, they did. 

The problem was that "out" did not mean out to the parking lot. 

Out, in this case, meant out into a wasteland of mud and construction equipment. 

I like to think the equipment was just as confused as I was.
 

It was also raining, hence the dirt being mud. 

I turned to go back inside, but the door was locked. 

…

The door that I had just gone through was locked to the outside. 

I imagine I looked like this, trying to get back in:
 

With no other choice, I turned to see if I could some how climb may way out, back into society. 

I began to sink into the mud.

Not only was it really, super gross, but I also was working under the assumption that I was going to die there and be buried like some horrible time capsule. 

"This seems to be a college girl.  What was she doing back then in the 2000s wandering around a high school?  We may never know…" 

I actually don't remember how I got out, but I know that I was very distraught and disturbed when I went back to my parent's house. 

The sandals I had been wearing were given to the gods as sacrifice. 
 

I don't know why I thought that would be easy.  

I mean, even when I WAS in high school, I never knew where I was going.  

I'd carry around my schedule every day and ask my teacher EVERY DAY how to get to the next class.  

I was late most of the time, so I stopped going to my locker at all, except for before and after lunch.
 

I'd switch my school bag with my lunch box, then my lunch box with the other half of my school stuff for the rest of the day. 

Of course, this brilliant process is why I often did my homework, yet managed to not have it to hand in.

Middle school was even worse, because even if I had known where my locker was, (which I never did) I wouldn't have known the combination to my lock anyway.
 

I still have dreams where I'm lost and looking for my damn locker. 

I get lost in wide open spaces too.  I get lost in stores and panic the moment whoever I'm with is behind a display or something, thinking I'll be lost forever. 

Panic probably doesn't help the lost thing… 

I've learned to at least ask or pretend to know where I'm going until I figure it out, but I still feel like I'm always wrong about which direction I should go. 

…There's a metaphor in that, I'm sure.

Maggot Madness

 

 

 

So, the other night, I found myself rummaging through the refridgerator in a half asleep stupor:  

 

Soon after, I felt something strange. 

 

 

It took me a moment to realize what was happening. 

 

HOLY crud it was on my foot.

 

Oh ew.  OH ew ew ew.

 

 

You know, actually, it was kind of cute. 

 

 

 

But I was still:

 

 

 

See, in reality, there were two tiny wormy thingys. 

 

 

 

In my mind, there were thousands, writhing around in a pile. 

 

 



 

 

Actually, based on what my Knight said about what was still in the trashcan, that wasn't too far off. 

 

In any case, I responded to this by making a noise only dogs can hear and running to my Knight like the floor was made of lava because I'm an adult. 

 

The moral of the story is that if you ever eat chicken, once you throw away your excess bird-parts, you should really take the trash out as soon as humanly possible. 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Reader Question Two! Fear and Loathing... Inside My Head

This one will be in response to a reader question about my fears... Which kind of creeps me out on some level cause it was an anonymous person and what the fuck is this person going to do with the information once he or she has it and...

Okay, let's go ahead right now and add “paranoid” to the list of things wrong with me.

As for stupid habits that were originally based in fear, you can add:

Peaking behind the shower curtain, just to “check”

This is from a few random bad experiences and bad people doing stupid pranks (*cough*HIGHSCHOOL*cough*EXBOYFRIEND*cough*ANDMYSISTER*cough*) smooshed with nightmares and the fact that my trauma addled brain couldn't tell the difference after a while.

and...

Skipping the last step on a staircase

The stair thing is because of getting hurt a very long time ago. “Very long” being like twenty freaking years ago.

Though, that one is now limited to the main staircase in my parent's house, and I do the shower thing less these days. It's really all just habit now, with much less serious concern behind the acts.

Next on the list of things I avoid as much as I can: Dogs.

 

My issue with dogs is that if I don't know the personality of the dog, I don't know what the dog will do. Since I'm small, if a big dog jumps, that means I will go down and get hurt. If a little dog bites, that means I can't outrun it and I will get hurt.

I'm also allergic to dogs, so it's unfortunate that they are playful things that like to get REALLY CLOSE TO YOUR FACE.

I'm allergic to cats, but they mostly care less and we can leave each other alone.

Dogs are invasive and overly friendly, or overly invasive and aggressive. Very rarely have I come across a dog that would just leave me the fuck alone. Either way, they remind me of the traits I also don't like in human beings.

Dogs are man's best friend and I'm not particularly fond of either one.

Other allergy fears are more things I can't always avoid, like grass.

This isn't just a “oh no, my nose is running and my eyes are watering because someone just mowed the lawn” allergy.

To give you an idea, I was once laying on the grass (like normal children do) and looking at clouds with friends. I started feeling really nauseous.

I got up, and my entire back and arms and anything that was anywhere near the grass was covered in a giant, itching, fiery red rash.

A shower fixed it, but oh my dear fuck.

I'm not even going to draw that because of how sad and horrible it is.

It's the reason I went off to the other side of the country, and why it was incredibly heart breaking to learn that I still had bad (even worse) allergies out where there is no grass.

Well, no grass that grows naturally on lawns, anyway.

Now we get to the real meat of this answer.

I have a few fairly reasonable fears, or at least fears that were reasonable until I blew them out of proportion.

But! The two things that are completely irrational fears that actually have caused me extreme distress in my life for NO FLIPPING REASON are these:

Zombies

and worms

As you can see, they are kind of related in my head.

I have a problem with amputation. This is not to say that I can't talk to someone who has had something amputated, and the average limb removal in a movie just irks me a little. When there is torture involved, I will get sick.

But, my issue with amputation is a fear of losing my own limbs. Luckily, my arms have not so far gone the way they could have. I even gained back the feeling in my ring fingers after not having that for many years. Still, I'm deeply afraid of this.

It's also a matter of pride. There is something to be said about the fact that without an x-ray, the average person would not notice my bones. Even at my thinnest, I'm just skinny, rather than obviously deformed in some way. To remove a limb would be noticeable. I would be noticeably differently-abled, and the way I am, I would most likely not take it very well.

Zombies get limbs blasted off all the time and rip off the limbs of the living with ease.

...and it's the turning into a zombie that scares me. It's the being chased, and watching your friends die, and knowing you've been bitten and hoping you are immune and knowing you will turn and OH GOD what if you can still THINK? What if you are still aware, but can't do anything to stop yourself??

Worms are creepy to me because there are other kinds of worms that can get into your body, your brain and eyes and such... and do things. Bad things.

Earth worms are limbless things.

Faceless and limbless, they writhe around and look as though they are in agony. When cut in half, both ends still wriggle about and flail, searching for a way out.

...And they eat corpses.

Maybe that boils down to a fear of being dead. Not dying, but dead. Like the fear of having it all be a dream or some vivid hallucination and I've been in a hospital all along. That idea isn't so bad but for the fact that I would think, “It was all in my head. I had all that power and I could have done ANYTHING in my dream world, and I wasted it.”

My head isn't normal.

The worm issue is slowly going away. They just depress me these days.

But the zombie thing? FOO. You should have heard what I said to myself in my head after the “bath salts” stuff. I was honestly afraid.

This is so very stupid.

I was a key member of the ZDC (Zombie Defense Corps) at my old college, you know. Did important things. Mmyep. *Puts thumbs behind suspenders proudly*

But, I still absolutely fear zombies.

I don't even like normal, living zombies. People who are willing to just be so cut throat or people who are yes men and don't even care to strive for anything greater. These are both types of zombies to me.

Ghosts may also be a not-normal reason. I have no issue with the idea that part of us may wander about after death. If there are ghosts, I don't think most of them would be harmful to the living, and even those that are seem to be stories about an encased emotion, more than the whole person.

I think ghosts are just pieces of people that chipped off along the way.

But, if there are ghosts and if I could one day be one, I would hate to be able to see people and hear them and have them not see me. It would be like being deaf again.

Not being heard or noticed when you so desperately wish to be is like screaming inside a clear box.

So, again, ghosts are just depressing to me. Not particularly scary.

Cannibals?

I have no issue with cannibals.

Traveling, Communication, and Sponges

Moving across the country was a wonderful idea.  My health is better, the weather is nicer, I'm less afraid of walking because I don't feel like I'm going to get stabbed...

There is only one real issue with moving across the country.

Some of my shit and the people I like are mostly still on the opposite side of said country.

Now, my mother and I have email and phone conversations... And those are actually a lot of fun.  It's not so much what she says as how she says it.  First of all, the woman doesn't use periods as punctuation.  It is almost always an exclamation mark.  As a result, I can't help but read whatever she is saying in a very excited manner. 

Example:

Yes, all of my packages come with hand-written notes and the Sunday comics.  Jealous yet?  It's okay.  I know you are. 

My mother is the embodiment of cute. 

When I was a kid, I had a thousand food allergies (still do), and so I always brought my lunch to school, even into high school.  I had some kick ass lunch boxes featuring Batman, Beetlejuice, The Crow... Lots of things.  My favorite, however, was a plain metal lunch box. 

Why?

Because my mother would write notes to me in magnetic poetry.  I'd then try to send messages back using the same words.  It didn't always make sense, but I'd wind up with people crowded around me, all trying to assist. 

In any case, when it comes to communicating with my friends, I spend a lot of time online and texting in a somewhat failed attempt to keep contact.  I have one friend who I have begun sending packages to, and I hope that becomes a thing.

As for texting... I look silly whilst texting.
I wind up either melting into the seat or trying to dive into the phone.

SO!  Holidays are coming, and with Consumerism Day fast approaching, my boyfriend and I have decided to spend possibly a month on the other side of the country. 

The issue? 

...My boyfriend lives a very busy life, we both get flustered fairly easily, and he has no concept of foresight or planning in an effort to live in a "just in case" lifestyle.  For example, we didn't buy plane tickets a month ago when they were cheaper, just in case... something.  I don't know.  I'd like to believe that he had a rational explanation.
Or, at least, that he thought his reasoning was rational.  That's really all I ask at this point.

 Plans keep me like this:

Even stupid plans.  At this point, he could tell me, "Honey, we are gonna swim there!" and I'd be like, "YAY a PLAN!!!  WOOOOO!  Let's do this!"

Without a plan, I wind up like this:

And then like some horrible stress-made Katamari, I roll around collecting everyone and everything in my path.
Whoops, now that little screaming woman is kicking her legs and stressed out, because she is stuck in my Katamari-stress ball.  Whoops... There goes a sheep.

Like a terrible buddy comedy from too many years ago, we were making calls and trying to figure out if we are going to spend a lot of money and three days on a train, spend a lot of money on a plane, or drive... forever.

Because I suck at being an adult, I don't drive, so I can't help him with that last part.  I'd love to magically get over this whole thing, but Fate is a silly mistress.
The moment I got REALLY EXCITED about the prospect of driving, I got smooshed.  You can read "The Birthday Bashing" for more details there. 
I've been a little wary about drivers where I live since the 17th of November, due to that.  Horror stories haven't helped any.
"OH MY GOD drivers here are AWFUL!"
"You haven't got your license yet?  Well, good luck getting it here!  I mean, yeah, anyone can get one here, but that's the problem.  The moment you drive and you don't know what you're doing, DEAD."

Gee.  Thanks guys.

As for a train, that would be neat!  Like an adventure!  We could sing songs about traveling out East while I learn about myself enough to get the confidence I need to make a good impression on his family!  We'd have three damn days to do this, so why not?  Why not??  Because I have no money.  It's expensive. 

The last thought... The easiest, fastest, also pretty insanely expensive just because it's so late thought...  Is flying.

Morally, I can not bring myself to ask my parents for more money.  No.  I'm an adult.  I've been looking for jobs and everything, like a real adult-type person.
So, in order to make it so I can possibly see his family or mine or any of my friends, I've decided to cut down on some expenses.  (And cry hysterically in a corner about a $600+ charge I didn't know would happen from a car rental that went on far too long.)

I've also decided to see if I can save up for a trip to Aruba by July.  His friends are getting married then, and I figure if he gets sick of me before July, I can still go to Aruba.  Either way, I'm going to try to do that some how.  If I fail, no real harm.  If I succeed, maybe I can stop mooching off of my family like some horrible 26 year old leech wearing a Batman shirt.

This is what I look like in my head when I ask my parents for money:

 Apparently I can't draw a leech so much as I can draw a worm from Tremors or Dune... But you get the idea.
...And still, I find common earthworms a thousand times more terrifying.  Phobias are stupid.

Anyway, mostly, saving money means not really eating anymore. 
However, that is only because we eat out a lot and I don't really know how to cook anything.  The stove is about as frightening to me as the talking toilet in those "Look Who's Talking" movies. 

I assume I'm going to burn myself and die.

Or burn the house down and get yelled at.

EDIT: I've been told that my never-been-used-but-bought-in-2004 crock pot will be sent to me.  YAY!

The other issue with going on this hypothetical-yet-happening-in-three-days trip with my boyfriend is the prospect of coming back alone.  While I occasionally can hop onto a train just like I used to when I was younger, and feel proud, these days... Not so much.  I'll be ecstatic once its all over, but there is always this hint of a panic attack looming around the corner, waiting to pounce.  As stupid as my little irrational fears were when I was a little kid, the ones they developed into seem to be worse, and affect my life in a more negative way. 


Either way, he's pretty sure we'll get there.  ...Soooo sure.  Fine.  We'll see. 


...As for other very silly things that have terrified me over the years...

As a child, I had a lot of very irrational fears, as you may have noticed from other blog entries. 

The stupidest, I think, was the fear of a sea sponge due to an episode of "Goosebumps".  I looked it up.

It was called "It Came From Beneath The Sink!", and it scared the shit out of me. 
I had loved the books, and so watching the tv show seemed like a good idea.  I remember watching a couple episodes at a friend's house.  This one was one of them.  That same evening, (probably just that same week, really... but shh) my mother came back from a cruise.  Excitedly, she showed me what she had bought for herself.
It was a sea sponge, and it looked just like that fucker from the show.

In my mind, it WAS that fucker from the show.

As such, I refused to go anywhere near the tub until my mother removed it.
Even while peeing, I would eye that bastard suspiciously, assuming that it was just waiting for me to look away. 

This is all especially stupid because I loved horror movies, haunted houses and I OWNED the whole Goosebumps book series.  It's just that random things would hit me funny and stick in my weird little child brain, sitting there, taunting and harassing me for years.

These days, I do not have such an issue with sponges, although I occasionally do have issues watching Spongebob.
I find him exceptionally creepy... but I doubt that has much to do with that episode of Goosebumps.

How Minor Speech Impediments Make Snakes Terrible, and The Reason I Stopped Watching Barney

Recently, my 17 years old, decrepit, and not particularly functional cat Jackie was put to sleep.  
It was for the best.  
She was no longer happy or healthy.  
I'm sure she will rule kitty heaven with an iron paw.

Back in the day, she was playful, had ear mites, and in general was just a strange and adorable all black short hair.

When we got her, I was on the look out for a fluffy white cat, so I could name him or her Gabriel like the cat in The Crow.  

I was that kid.  
Yeah. 

But I found Jackie.  
I had heard stories of an orange cat named Pumpkin from before I was born, and I decided that since when I draw Jack O' Lanterns, the eyes, mouth, and nose are black, this black cat would be named accordingly.  

Basically, I named this cat after a cat I had never even met.  
It didn't even occur to me that she was a "Halloween" cat, but that would have made significantly more sense.

There are three other things you should know for this story.  

One, my sister loves all things snake related.  
We always had a snake or two.  
Being not a fan of worm like things, I was not particularly fond of snakes, but they didn't really bother me much at the time.  

They were just creepy green worms with heads.

Between this day and the time when my mom got bitten on the face by one of them, I'm not so keen on snakes now.  
My mom was fine.  

I was bothered.  

Years later, the Sandworms of Beetlejuice are fine... so that's a start, right?

Another thing you should know is that my bed was on the ground.  I had a box spring, a mattress... and that was it.  

This was my choice.

The idea was that my closet monsters were good, but my under-the-bed monsters wanted to eat my feet.  
Specifically. 

Eat my feet. 

So, I had the bed right on the floor to keep the monsters at bay/suffocate them horribly.

Lastly, I had a lot of trouble speaking as a kid.  
I had been almost entirely deaf until about four years old.  
It was just fluid in my ears, but I needed tubes twice, because the first time didn't work. 

So, a minor ailment that many people have did exactly what one would expect it to do to a child learning language early on.  

One day, I was awakened by Jackie mewing. 

 It was kind of annoying as I was trying to sleep, so I got up, picked her up and took her out of my room. 

After plopping her on the ground, I went back to bed. 

A few moments later, she was back, mewing even louder.  I tried to ignore her. 

Finally, I got up to get her out of my room again, knowing that this time, I'd shut the damn door.

Then, I realized that my head felt rather heavy.

The snake had gotten out of her tank and wrapped herself in my hair.  

She flew out of it when I ran the Hell out of my room screaming, "SNAKE IN HAIR!  SNAKE IN ROOM!  SNAKE IN HAIR!"  

No one had any idea what I was talking about, understandably.  

Still, I remember being quite frustrated.  

Eventually, I took my mother by the hand and dragged her to my room to show her the snake, who was happily slithering all over everything I ever owned. 

The snake's tank had velcro holding the top on from that day forward. 

...

As for Barney, this was another case of my poor communication skills, coupled with my very loose grasp of reality as a child.  Sure, having a vivid imagination is one thing, but not when it is horrifying. 

I loved Barney.  I had the doll and everything.  I think I liked that he was purple and green.  Years later, I developed a love for T-rexs, and I wonder how much of that is because of that dinosaur. 

One day, Barney was drinking a glass of "milk".
I felt very smart, knowing that there was nothing actually in that cup.

It was only pretend milk.
Knowing this, somehow the next part was not rationalized in a better way. 

In drinking, Barney tilted his head up towards the lights.  You could see the person inside of Barney, through the black mesh of his mouth. 

Instead of thinking, "Oh no!  Barney is just a dude in a suit!!  Childhood over!"  
I ran around the house, frantic, believing that it was of the utmost importance that I let everyone know Barney's dark secret.

Barney eats human beings. 

As though warning of the British arriving, I said "Barney ate somebody!  Barney ate somebody!"

I was told not to watch that show anymore.  I didn't argue. 
I even got rid of my doll, because it was forever on creepy to me. 

There was also an incident while watching the Ghostbusters cartoon.  

I loved that show... but when I was just a hair too young, there was something about ...a giant... ghost... chicken?  

Apparently, I was terrified of chickens.  
I don't know.

All I know is that I wound up running around the house screaming "BIG SCARY CHICKEN!  BIG SCARY CHICKEN!" because three word phrases are all I could ever muster whilst in a panic caused by television.  
 ...Or snakes in my hair. 

 

In all fairness, I still kinda hate chickens.