My Biggest Fears

Sure I get nervous on a dark street alone, worry about the health of my family and friends, and obsessively check to see if I have something in my teeth, but for the most part, my biggest fears are all insanely irrational. And that's how I like it because then I'm never really forced to face them.

What kinds of stuff am I talking about?

Well, getting trapped in an elevator with a pregnant woman, for starters. I/d blame it on every 90s sitcom watched by my generation growing up that had this scenario in the plot line around season six or so, but I've talked to friends and apparently it's just me who's scared to death about the possibility of having to deliver a child inside of a metal box whilst suspended in the air. Even Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman would have a tough time in that situation! Good luck to them, I say. 

Then there's the phobia of a bird flying into my head, specifically my oral region. I mean, my head is quite sizable. I'm like a magnet for birds (I think they can sense my fear). And above all, I don't do a very good job of paying attention when I'm walking. It's a recipe for disaster, and way more likely to happen than the one above. Like, am I going to be expected to carry out living my life once I've been involved in a freak bird make-out accident? How am I going to get over that?  I guess moving out of pigeon-infested New York was a good thing, although Denver isn't much better. Literally a gaggle of geese is raising a ruckus in the park across the street. (Having been attacked by a swan on two separate occasions, it's no shock I can barely leave the house here. Or maybe it's just because I'm lazy. Oh right, that one.)

Anyway, in addition to these issues, I think a new fear has developed, or maybe it was latent all these years, waiting until now to come out.  

Marriage. The idea of it, doing it, having it, wanting it, all of it. 

Scary as shit.

Still, though, not as terrifying as snakes. It has nothing to do with poison and everything to do with the poor stereotypes and imagery with which society labels them. While I was raised not to be racist, I am a full-fledged snakist. (And SUCH a good pun-maker!)

What am I to make of all this? Am I a lunatic? (Rhetorical.)

I guess I'll just have to face each of these fears as they come along, and in the mean time, avoid the park across the street. There are so many of them.