Everyone is afraid of something. Lots of somethings, actually. Myself included.
For one, I'm afraid of heights. My height phobia can easily be seen (or actually, more like can easily be heard) in this video from when I went bungee jumping in Queenstown, New Zealand. Hint: You might want to turn the volume down on your speakers before pressing play.
When the bungee workers pulled me up from this terrifying experience, I was shaking so much that I had to hold on to a pole in order to be able to stand upright. Tangent story: As I was shaking and clinging to said pole, the New Zealanders were making fun of me for all the racket I made. My response: "Yeah, I'm a screamer." There was an awkward pause and then everyone erupted into laughter. I confusedly looked around before a light bulb went off in my head that my comment was not being taken in the context I had meant it to be taken. New Zealand, Australia, America, the place doesn't matter. Wherever I am, I can always be counted on to make some awkward comment with a sexually-themed double meaning that never crosses my mind before I open my mouth. And the people I'm with can always be counted on to twist my words into the raunchier of the two meanings and point it out to the world. Thanks, guys.
Back to my original point.
My other fears aren't anything out of the ordinary: motorcycles, spiders, snakes, CLOWNS (I shiver at the thought), sharks, crocodiles, horror films, drowning, etc. etc. etc.
I also have some very specific fears about the future:
1. Being unemployed
I'm very much hoping this fear doesn't become a realization when I graduate in less than 3 months. I need financial support in order to be able to keep up my Chipotle burrito bowl obsession and regular Target shopping sprees. Then there's those other adult things like rent, utilities, car payments, bills...bleh.
2. Meeting my husband on Match.com
No judgment to people who meet this way. I'm very happy for you all. I would just much rather meet my hubby somewhere out there in the real world so I have a "meet cute" story to tell my grandkids (shout out to The Holiday, one of my all-time fav movies and the source--along with the Notebook--of many of my unrealistic romantic expectations). I saw a statistic the other day that Match.com alone contributes to two percent of ALL marriages every year. One website. Two percent of U.S. marriages. 20,000 people join everyday. Aren't you a little afraid, too?
3. Becoming a cat lady
Felix, obviously) this fear is especially nightmarish for me. The image of me in a house overrun with felines as I sit in my rocking chair knitting cat #23, Mr. Whiskers, a new sweater...I just can't even fathom. No. No. No.
Yes Valentine's Day is right around the corner...and yes I am especially aware of my single-status thanks to this commercial holiday...and yes I am currently curled up in bed watching a chick flick (The Wedding Planner)...and yes I did just buy my friend bridal magazines since she got engaged on Friday. All those things combined make #2 and #3 slightly more terrifying as of late, but I realize I'm only 22. Really I'm mostly worried about #1 at the moment. And also, my latest "I don't want this to be my life" fear:
4. Becoming a hoarder
Lately I've been noticing a few signs that worry me I could potentially be swayed down this very very dark path. Here are a few of the things I have caught myself hoarding:
--Mints. I went through a mint-hoarding phase in middle school. I would always take a handful of mints whenever I left a restaurant. This resulted in me designating a purse as the "mint purse." It was packed with literally hundreds of different mints. Of course, I couldn't carry around a purse that only had mints in it. So I never actually had the mints with me, and they never got eaten. I recovered the mint purse when I was cleaning out my closet the summer after my high school graduation. The mints all went in the trash. Apparently (and thankfully) I phased out of that one without even noticing.
--Moist towelettes. At Medieval Times about a month ago I didn't use my moist towelette and brought it home in my purse. Rather than throwing it away when I found it the next morning, I put it on my bedside table for later use. Last night I realized that moist towelette moments are few and far between in my bedroom. Not to mention, I do actually own soap. So the moist towelette went in the trash. Another win for Becky! Close call.
--Leftovers. I'm like a human vacuum/disposal/insert "she'll eat anything" metaphor here. I'm telling you, I just hate to see anything go to waste. My roommate's dad once wanted to ship half of a leftover sandwich to me (we live 200+ miles apart) because he had previously witnessed me taking all five of his family members' food home after dinner one night. (I mean, they weren't going to eat any of it...) On Medieval Times night, I took home three of my friends' leftover chickens. They give you an ENTIRE chicken as your main course. No normal human being can eat an entire chicken. No normal human being takes to-go boxes from Medieval Times either. I'm normal in the sense that I couldn't eat my whole chicken. I'm not normal in the sense that I took four half eaten chickens home in a to-go box. Here is visual proof:
--Boxes. I can't bring myself to throw them away! What if I need to ship...something? Or what if I want to do...something...with my laptop's original packaging? Or what if I can use that scrap of cardboard to make a sign for...something? Can't say I've had many "something" instances come along very often, but there's always that chance. Hence the large amount of boxes I have stored in three different closets and my room.
--Lotion. In middle school your typical pre-teen girl accumulates more Bath and Body Works merchandise than she knows what to do with. I was one such girl. Despite the amount of lotion, body glitter, body spray, soap, etc. that I owned, I refused to use any of it. I wanted to "save" it for special occasions. Special occasions are very infrequent in middle school. Around the same time I got rid of the mint purse, I cleaned out a mess of evaporated, dried up, and weirdly colored Bath and Body Works stuff that was no longer usable from under my sink. You'll all be happy to hear I now actually use all lotions and the like that I own. Feel free to use that as a gift idea for my birthday. Or even my half-birthday, which is closer. (May 25th--for those of you who were wondering)
--Tissue paper. I bought some colored tissue paper in Sydney for my final project in Contemporary Australian Arts (embarrassingly one of the most difficult classes I've ever taken--details on that will have to wait for another post). I had to cram everything I had accrued over the course of five months in Australia into two rolling suitcases and a backpack. Of course I couldn't bring myself to leave the tissue paper behind. It's currently in my closet. The next time I gift you something, you might get that something in a bag with tissue paper lovingly transported all the way across the Pacific Ocean. Good thing I brought it back, right?!
I think the line between being thrifty and having a hoarding problem is a very delicate one to tiptoe along, and I'm getting very nervous that my life will end up on the side of the latter. Do I really think things could get as out of control in my life as on the TLC show "Hoarding: Buried Alive?" Of course not. I'm just hoping I don't revert back to the mint purse stage. In fact, in writing this I've decided that maybe it would be a healthy decision to throw away a few of those boxes. Progress!
I've also noticed that this blog has just turned into me explaining all my oddities to the world. Thanks for not judging. (And if you are judging, thanks for not telling me you're judging.) All these random stories just make me cutely quirky, right? (With a little bit of weird and bizarre mixed in. I'm OK with it.)