Hello, girls! It’s Monday! And I almost completely forgot that I hadn’t written a blog post yet today!
Alexandra - Thank you so much for sharing your wedding video with us! I love your outfit, and the ceremony was classy, nice and simple. I wish you and your husband much happiness. And hee hee hee! (Which was me cackling evilly and rubbing my hands together as a wicked overlord might be wont to do) Yes! A craft challenge! I look forward to seeing what comes out of it. :)
Carlyn - I hope your visit with Meghan went splendidly, and I can’t wait to hear more about grad school!
Casey - Good to hear from you! Try not to get too overwhelmed by life and school and such, yeah? Also, I love meeting people who also follow dearblankpleaseblank because that site is awesome.
Christina - Niagara Falls is amazing – just astoundingly beautiful. I highly recommend a visit if you ever get the chance. And wow! France is coming up fast, huh? Keeping track of that time change is going to be interesting for those of us carefully waiting to punish others . . . :)
Now for my fears.
My classic illogical fear is heights, and it’s also the answer guaranteed to have a wide amount of agreement (Although I feel like Terry Pratchett is tsking in my ear whenever I say that, for, as he rightly pointed out in his Tiffany Aching series, I do not actually fear heights, as I can look up at a tall building without any trouble at all. What I actually fear is depths. But for the sake of ease, I will continue to refer to my fear of heights). Now, people can tell me that the fear of heights is illogical all they want. It doesn’t make a difference. I know they’re right. I know that it is almost entirely unlikely that the balcony/observation deck/cliffside that I’m standing on is going to crumble beneath my feet and send me crashing to my death, but I actually have a very good reason for caution, and that’s that you can’t be sure that the balcony/observation deck/cliffside that I’m standing on isn’t going to crumble beneath my feet and send me crashing to my death.
I’m also not a fan of tornadoes.
As for the more abstract fears, it’s the one you’d expect from a perfectionist, really: failure, disappointing people I respect, leading a meaningless life. Things like that. Also, because there is a history of alzheimers and dementia in my family, I have a terrible fear of developing one or the other as I get older. But those fears don’t really affect my day to day life as often as one might think, and I actually deal with them better than the heights thing. I would call none of the above crippling fears.
My crippling fear is something altogether much more terrifying. I suffer from sanguivoriphobia. For those of you who enjoy breaking words down to their Latin or Greek roots and translating them to decipher meaning (and who doesn’t?), you might figure out that this fear translates roughly to “fear of blood eaters.”
That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. Monday is terrified of vampires.
I’m serious. It’s bad. Just the act of writing this post has me itching to find a scarf and wrap it around my neck, you know, just in case. Just thinking about them sends shivers and shudders up my spine. The first time I watched Jane Eyre, not knowing the story at all, and I got to the point where Mr. Mason is up in the tower room with bite marks on his neck and shoulder, talking about some creature who said she was going to drink all his blood, I had to stop watching because it was dark outside and I had no idea whether or not there were going to be vampires in this story, but if there were I wasn’t going to watch a movie about them alone in my dorm room after dark.
And yes, in case you’re wondering, I did read Twilight, and yes, it was excruciatingly difficult, especially as I got to the end, and yes, I did, in fact, finish the book with a scarf wrapped around my neck, you know, just in case. My brother keeps trying to get me to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I keep telling him it is never going to happen because hello! Vampires! It’s right there in the title. I once swore I would take any class my favorite professor offered because I loved him as a teacher so much, I said he could offer a class on the life cycles of dung beetles and I would take it. He offered a class on vampire literature. I didn’t take it. In his Sleeping Beauty class, he tricked me into reading a vampire story by telling me that “there’s a tiny bit of a vampire in it, just to warn you,” when, in fact, THE ENTIRE FREAKING STORY WAS ABOUT VAMPIRISM. I have yet to entirely forgive him for that. I will never read Dracula, let alone watch a film version of it, and even coming close to touching any part of my neck sends me into a legitimate spaz attack. You can ask my boyfriend. He’s been dealing with that for 18 months now.
*deep breath* Okay. Okay. I’m better now. I am. But I have started to freak myself out a bit, so before I go completely mental, I think I’m gonna say farewell, wrap this up, and go find a turtleneck to put on.
Alexandra, I’ll see you tomorrow.