Death By Cement Truck, And Others

Last night, I had one of those really fantastic experiences (Note: The sarcasm has returned) where I didn't sleep. I spent at least three hours staring at the ceiling, trying not to think of a few BIG things including, but not limited to: 

Impending Apartment Hunt 

What Do I Do With My Life?

I Am Poor 

I Need To Lose Five Pounds

And the ever popular: Will Well-Intentioned Ex-Boyfriend Re-Break My Heart? ...which is generally paired with Would I Let Him? and the unfortunate Yes, I Probably Would. Ugh, cue the self-loathing.

But that's besides the point. Essentially, I am sleep deprived. And caffeinated. And feeling it. My hands are literally shaking as I type, which makes this experience feel like an odd parallel to drunk texting.

This heavily caffeinated state of mine is not a side note though - it's actually the catalyst for this post. My head is reeling with all sorts of crazy thoughts (such as, "I'm moving at super human speed!") but one especially struck me as something that might be good blog fodder...

Irrational fears. 

I was walking home in the dreary rain this morning when I passed a rotating cement truck. My first thought, before anything else, was, "Gee, I hope it doesn't disconnect, roll off, and kill me."

Is that normal?

See? There's danger in everything! Even gates!

The answer is no... at least, I don't think it's normal. I see potential death in everything, every time I encounter it. I never stand on a subway platform without thinking I'm going to fall off. Or be pushed off. I never walk through the subway doors without thinking I'll fall through the crack (which, like, isn't even possible.) I never ride the subway without thinking we're going to crash and I'm going to die in a fiery ball of twisted metal and breakdancers and bad-tempered mouth-breathers. Every subway ride is my last... well, in my head anyway.

I'm also afraid of planes. I keep a white-knuckled grip on the armrests at all times. I glare at anyone who dares use their electrical appliances when they shouldn't. If your iPod is the reason we crash, I'll take it upon myself to kill you with my bare hands before we even make it to the ground. 

I'm afraid of big, scary bodies of water. You can thank The Perfect Storm for that one. I don't care if I'm drowning alongside a rugged, perfectly-stubbled Fisherman George Clooney. I don't want to drown at all, thank you.

I'm afraid of heights. And being shot (especially point-blank). Every time I'm in a car I think it will tip over, or I'll inadvertently fall off the bridge we're crossing, or someone will pummel into me, or a dim-witted woodland critter will decide now is a really good time to savor the plant life on the other side of the highway. I'm even afraid of the dark. I saw the movie Gremlins when I was a kid and slept with my light on for like 7 years because I was convinced poorly cared for gremlins were going to crouch in the corners of my bedroom while I slept, waiting to do scary gremlin things. (Seriously, what DO gremlins do? I don't even remember.)

But the odd thing about all of this is that I still do everything I want to do... I just happen to think, "Well, I might die doing this. That sucks." Every little hint of turbulence makes me jump, but that's not going to stop me from traveling. I take the subway every week, even though each screechy little bump makes my stomach churn. I just happen to spend a good portion of my thoughts accepting the fact that death might befall me in that moment. Trust me, it's sort of time-consuming.

And you know what? I'll take constant threats of death and bodily harm over all the stupid italicized fears above... because those are scarier. Bring on the imminent cement truck squash. That's WAY less scary than "Oh My God I'm About To Sign My First Lease On A Grown-Up Apartment." Plane crashes pale in comparison to another round of that super fun game called, "Oops! Turns Out I Still Don't Want to Date You." And you know, a subway pole through the abdomen is hardly as terrifying as the G word. (I shudder to say it, but here goes: Graduation. That one deserves to be capitalized, bolded, and italicized... but I'm very much anti-font-overkill.)

Now after all that rumination on fear, I'm sorry to say my caffeine high is slowly departing, leaving in its wake an overarching feeling of anxiety. Yikes. A literal buzzkill.

Maybe I'll go make myself another cup. Or four.