Irrational Fears and Irrelevant Confessions

You guys, I have one more class and then summer break. A much needed summer break.

Here are some bizarre little anecdotes about moi for your enjoyment. (Unnecessary French? Fancy!)

• I stay up ridiculously late. I rarely get anything productive done when I do this but that hasn't slowed me down yet. And, I would argue that watching a biography of comedy legend Rodney Dangerfield IS productive. (And now I'm arguing with myself. Great.)

• Sometimes when I am up ridiculously late I go on my front porch to smoke. It is always so dark and quiet, just before the birds have started their racket and decent people are all asleep. As I look around and let my eyes adjust to the dark I always half-expect to see Mothman or Bigfoot walking down the street. At least a zombie.

• Though I have yet to see any cool monsters around here, I have seen something strange. At least three times now when I am out night-smoking I have witnessed three different dogs just running down the street, each like he were on a mission. Why would a dog be running down the street at 4 a.m. by himself? They each followed the same path. It's weird. One happened just last night. A big white dog, just hauling ass down the street at some godawful hour. I think it is better than seeing Mothman, actually. Definitely funnier.

• I have recurring dreams in which I am escaping from grizzly bears that have inexplicably taken up residence in my childhood home. I am usually holding Violet and jumping from a window to get away from them. Care to interpret?

• When I was a child our neighbor had a horse that would sometimes get loose. It was tame and would come investigate things by looking in our windows. It scared the hell out of me, though. The wild eyes and huge head peering in the glass (probably at his own reflection). These visits seemed to only occur on days that I had broken an egg while playing around in the kitchen. Bizarre, I know, but my kid-brain correlated the two events. If I broke an egg I would sit around nervously waiting for the horse to come to the window. (What? I was a weird kid. We were poor, so we played with eggs a lot I guess.)

• I am scared to go to our basement by myself at night. Seriously. In my defense, it is a huge, spooky-ass basement with plenty of clutter for ghosts and monsters to hide behind.

• I have a phobia of getting bugs tangled into my hair. Locusts, moths, june-bugs, butterflies: any one of these strike fear into my heart if they get too close to my head.

• Okay, so this list has turned to "Reasons Why I am a Huge Scaredy Cat and Weirdo". Oh well. On I plow.

• I like tattoos but I am not a fan of getting one just because it is trendy thing to do, or because I need to commemorate the fact that I am a mother (um, that is what stretch marks are for), or any other such reason. I am really glad that I wasn't too impulsive when I was younger. I found a whole bunch of trace paper with bad tattoo designs I drew when I was sixteen. I planned on getting them all. One had two stylized snakes intertwined. I had wanted that one on my spine. Hahaha! It gets better: I had drawn some runes around them, too. No wonder only creepy dudes asked me to prom.