The Delights of Scary Things

So, I am fairly easy to frighten or startle, just ask my junior year chem. teacher...

But that doesn't stop me from going out and looking for things that scare me. It's kind of a sick obsession people have with that rush of adrenaline; your heart beat increases speed as the intensity builds, your body begins to sweat, you practically hold your breath as you fall into that instinctual defense mode right before fight or flight sets in.

Although I am not particularly fond of being scared, I, like the many billions of other people on this earth, still search for it. God only knows why. But we do.

An-eee-waaayyys

A resource for the frightening that I am particularly fond of is Creepy Pasta.

Yeah, some of the stories are lame and all of them are guaranteed to be fake. But that sick deep desire leeks out and I follow it.

After about an hour of reading stories about strange beings, haunted locations, cases of psychosis, etc. I finally decide it's time for a break and head up to the bathroom.

As I sit there I think about the stories I could write. Naturally my mind starts to go to things being in unexpected places... and I start to look around the room for these potential spots. My eyes fall upon the closed shower curtain and I am reminded of the story "In The Shower" (which I recommend you read it's quite chilling).

The curtain moves.




I let out a blood-curdling scream.




I lift the curtain.








It's my kitten, playing in the shower.

So if that is not testament enough of my overly skittish ways, ask any of my friends, family, or former classmates to regale you with tales of the many, many times in which I have been scared.

I promise it’s good for a laugh.

:D

Friends series: Intro

I was in the middle of writing a long sob story about my sister's injustices when I stopped.  I thought about it and weighed my options. First, I could finish what would truly be a long and pointless blog about all the things she does to piss me off...  OR I could focus on something positive instead.

I have choosen something positive.

So I have decided that I will begin a series of internet Thank-You notes to the friends who somehow manage to put up with all my bull-shit.  This will be done in no particular order but I should limit it to three.  So I will be writing on behalf of Ms. Lauren Miller, Ms. Joslyn Edwards, and Mr.Nathaniel Everett.

If you are not one of these people, don't cry a river.  No, it doesn't make you less important then them but lets be honest, what have you ever done for me, really? So suck it up and don't be offened, because that would totally ruin it for these three. If you aren't thanked by me, well, I am not everything.  Try looking elsewhere and see what impact you make on others' lives, because you can't touch everyone.

So, this is a preliminary announcement to Nathan Jos and Lauren that I am not doing these in order of importance or whatever, just in order of what I choose. :D

Surrounded in Measureless Oceans of Space

A NOISELESS, PATIENT SPIDER

by: Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

A NOISELESS, patient spider,
I mark'd, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Mark'd how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling them--ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you, O my Soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,--seeking the spheres, to connect them;
Till the bridge you will need, be form'd--till the ductile anchor hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

First off, please excuse my shotty higlighting this is my first time.
Secondly I would like to point out that it is interesting to me, that, when thinking of something to write about I should choose a Whitman poem. No, not that he is bad, the man was a genius actually... anyways my favorite poet happens to be Robert Frost (call him overrated if you must but I like him so fuck you) so it struck me as interesting that this poet and this poem would so perfectly fit my endevor.  A little background:
I came upon this work in a school text book, poorly cared for, with scotch tape holding it together.  As a group assignment a friend and I choose this poem at random.  We found that once again Whitman has hit us with unexpected beauty.

Anyways I have been feeling a bit lost lately.  By that I mean I am not so sure what has happened to the former self I used to know.  My friends regarded me as a bright optimistic person with a 'good head on her shoulders' and a 'clear path' to her future. Some how, Some time since September, that girl has lost her way or died.  So to make a long tirade short, I am embarking on a bit of a journey aimed for self discovery.  And as an introduction to, what I hope I will keep up with to chronical my thoughts musings and other listless efforts of the worded type, my blog, I give you this poem, offer no insight other than the words I have highlighted and hope you understand why this poem spoke to me.