One of my favorite bands is Blood Red Shoes. I've gotten into two minor accidents while listening to them while I'm driving. The first accident happened while I was playing their first full length album. Their second album brought my second accident and that's when I decided I had to inflict a No Blood Red Shoes Rule in my car. I was too distracted when I listened to them. I've always heard that bad things happen in three's and I suppose I'm more superstitious than I ever realized. I became convinced that if I played anything from this band, but especially their third album, I would have a third accident. So I put that third album on and went for a drive. I did not get into an accident, so maybe there wasn't a curse. Although a couple of cars ahead of me in the lane did totally get into an accident. Nothing serious, but I kind of think it may have been my music. Maybe. It's irrationally possible. Regardless, I'm counting it as the third and final accident, so I can go back to listening to whatever music I want in my car.
Holy bundle of fear! This was definitely putting myself in an uncomfortable situation filled with opportunity to be judged. I did learn from doing karaoke and made sure that I was not sober for this. My stomach was in knots all night. Actually, it was in knots whenever I would think about possibly trying this long before that night. It ended up being incredibly exhilarating, but still turns my stomach thinking about it.
It can be a peculiar thing to know someone for a while and realize you've never been alone with them. There's a different connection that you make with someone when it's just the two of you. I always find myself worried the first time I hang out with an existing friend without any other buffer from our friendship circle. There's always a chance it can be awkward or dull or we discover our only common ground are the people we both know.
This experience was momentarily painful, but really not that bad. I wasn't emotionally traumatized by the woman who waxed me or anything. She was quite professional and incredibly nonchalant as she manhandled me. I was kind of hoping that maybe she would compliment it, me, the business. So, those dreams were dashed.
Oh man, this one is huge. When I was a young kid I was such a little people pleaser. I always struggled with being the person other people expected me to be and myself. It's something that can still be hard to shake at times now. I really hate letting people down, but especially my parents.
I waited until thirty years old to finally get a tattoo. I have thought about it for such a long time, but was so worried that I would end up regretting it. What if I no longer liked the design or the placement, or what if it didn't come out the way I wanted it? A lot times I felt too fickle to choose something for forever. But I went for it and I'm still feeling great about it. One of my favorite parts of the experience was when the artist was all finished, he looked at me and ominously said, "you're one of us now".
As soon as I see a cop car on the road, my entire body tenses up. And it remains incredibly tense until the cop turns or takes an exit…just gets away from me and lets me go back to driving in comfort. My natural state of recklessly. It felt so, so wrong to drive around looking for a cop car to not only drive near for a while, but then take a picture of, basically stalk. I was hunting down cops.
Whatever, I know I have weird food fears that I'm sure seem ridiculous to most other people, but I seriously almost vomited. I will continue to pass on sushi from here on out and instead of feeling like I'm not adventurous enough, I will feel great about it.
I just wanted to experience the rush of jumping out of an airplane. After driving for almost two hours, the jump was canceled for the second time in two weeks, and we were only 15 minutes away. What a disappointment. We were so close. So as a substitute, I decided to ignore my instincts, head straight for ultimate mortification, and publicly post a bad photo of myself. I chose my second grade school photo, because that was the first picture of me that I was embarrassed by and totally hated. After second grade I always dreaded picture day and they only got worse.
I was never someone who messed with guns. I don't really trust myself around anything too nice, because I know that I'm clumsy and there's a definite chance I may break it. So I certainly don't want to handle something that could kill someone or seriously injure them if I make the wrong move. That's too scary. The thing is, I found out that shooting guns in a controlled environment is really fun. It's a scary kind of fun.
I had to google the act of contrition. That's how long it had been since I went to confession. I can sit through mass and recite it entirely through muscle memory. But confession is so intimate partly because I don't have a congregation of people to blend into and of course because I'm supposed to divulge my secrets to this guy. Just walking up to a church can make me anxious, so having this one on one interaction with a priest is overwhelming. Waiting for him to absolve me and tell me I'm okay. I think I'm getting where my fear of being judged by people comes from.
It's absurd how ticklish I am. I never could handle anyone attempting to give me a massage before. It would always end up either tickling the hell out of me or hurting me. I was supposed to up the ante with the whole strangers and touching and judging thing and receive the first massage of my life, but something happened with the massage therapist and the appointment was canceled. So, this was the second day in a row where my fear plans didn't really work out and I was so bummed. The massage was rescheduled, but I felt like I still needed to do something to push myself out of my own comfort zone. I didn't want to lose momentum with the project. Honestly at this point, even though every day was nerve-racking, I was strangely getting used to the self-inflicted torture. I thought about what had been filling me with anxiety and I knew what to do. I was still waiting to hear from one last grad program. I had been rejected by all the other schools and I was so scared that I wouldn't get accepted anywhere, again. So I called the last school I was waiting to hear from to see if they had a decision made. After keeping me on hold for an obscene amount of time, I was informed that the committee still had my file and had not reached a decision. What a frustrating day! I really could have used that massage…
First of all, it was real weird to go to a support group meeting and have no one else show up. Not…very…supportive… I'm glad I wasn't on the edge of any type of serious breakdown, because I would have been screwed. It was like calling a suicide hotline and getting a busy signal. So messed up. On my second attempt, I was able to find a meeting that people actually attended and then things got intense. I know that I can be quite an emotional person and I guess my fear here was putting myself in a situation that could possibly open the floodgates. And it happened. As I listened to everyone else share how they've been feeling lately or a specific story, I couldn't help but get the same pit in my stomach that I would get when I knew my turn to read was coming up in English class. So I shared and the floodgates definitely opened.
Back in school I was the only photo major in my drawing classes, which meant I was the worst in the class. I was always so embarrassed hanging my homework up next to everyone else's. Especially since I spent hours, just toiling away on my mediocre drawings, and they could never compare to the awesome work my classmate's would rush to finish at the last minute. I was so jealous. I'm still jealous.
Three years ago, I applied to a bunch of photo grad programs and didn't get into any of them. The rejection was very intense for me. I had to take some time to let my ego recover from the beating and formulate a new project to pour my energy into. Two years later I felt ready to try again and I went for it hard. I was so focused on grad school and getting in this time, I changed a lot in my life to focus on that goal. I did not want to have a repeat of rejection across the board. CCA in San Francisco was one the schools at the top of my list. I flew across the country from Delaware just to go to the Graduate National Portfolio Day that they hosted, because I was serious. So, when I was rejected by them, it was hard for me to swallow. Reaching out to them to find out what it was that was holding me back was not an easy move to make. Honestly, I wanted to just bury myself in a pile of blankets and stay in bed.
I was really lucky, I made it to 29 with all four of my grandparents still around. I've lost people, but when my grandfather passed away, that was a loss on a level I had never experienced before. Going back to his gravesite, I was worried that wound would be ripped back open the way it was the day we buried him.
I don't want to be someone who can't imagine doing things on my own. I go to movies by myself, grant it'll be during the off peak hours, but I do. And I have gone to bars stag before, but only when I'm friends with the bartender or when it's inside of an airport. There's a stigma associated with a girl in a bar by herself that I find to be lame and frustrating. Once the better part of my beer was gone it dawned on me that the real reason I don't hang out in bars alone is because my friends are fun and I rather spend time with any of them then suffer through dull conversation with the random dude that sat down next to me.
Stranger danger. I guess I was all too obedient as a child. I absolutely avoid talking to people I don't already know. If I do find myself in a conversation with a stranger, I am usually awkward instead of charming. So, while I was giving my class a short break, I saw a woman looking mighty confused and decided to put on my well rehearsed restaurant server voice and be helpful. I suppose it was good to help someone out, but what a fear let down. Our back and forth was so lame I think I rather continue evading strangers.
I know that the random lady that probed me was a doctor and very used to looking at lady business, that doesn't really relax me. My over acting brain immediately starts coming up with awful, messed up things she could be possibly thinking while peaking under my paper gown. I have a tendency to stress out about things before they even happen, so of course I was waiting for a "…Well, this isn't normal…".
Far, far, far too sober! Yes, singing in public is utterly frightening to me! I've only done karaoke a few times in the past and my strategy was always to be incredibly drunk and to do it with other people, so they could sing into the microphone while I would pretty much lip sync. I am a killer at lip syncing! Not so much at singing… After going back and forth in my head, I decided to go with Dolly Parton's "9 to 5". It's high energy and empowering, the perfect kind of song for karaoke. I was still so freaked out and couldn't get out of my head. Towards the end of the song, when there was one last repeat of the chorus, I had decided I was done. I put the microphone back in the stand, looked out at everyone and announced, "I'm finished, this is done". But the song wasn't done, so instead I just stood there uncomfortably until it actually was.
