Pantophobia

Mimes scare me. And don’t even let me start on clowns. How on earth people can find a person in pasty white makeup entertaining is beyond me. I know it’s crazy, but I’m always convinced that their skins are that chalk white due to some obscure flesh eating bacteria that causes the skin to flake and infect the rest of us in a manner not unlike that of anthrax.

The thing is, I have many irrational fears and I’d be worried about myself if they weren’t so damned amusing. Few things are funnier than when at a social event I explain to my table mates that I avoid balloons in the event they burst and shatter my glasses thereby driving shards of glass into my eyes. It’s funny because invariably: a) the decorations would consist of a ridiculous amount of air-filled rubber and b) the people around me would be wearing eye-glasses. Thus far only a few people have pointed out that bursting balloons are incapable of providing the force necessary to break spectacles. I am therefore secure in the knowledge that psychiatrists everywhere are turning a profit because of me.

Living in a country which has little to no regard for its animal population, whether stray or otherwise, has made me near phobic about crossing the Priority Bus Route. Especially during peak hours and at night. Especially in the three inch heels I am so very, very fond of. Every time I have to cross that stretch of asphalt, I am absolutely certain that my left heel will break when I am smack in the middle of the road. At the precise moment I realise I am thus incapacitated, the traffic light would change to green. Of course at the head of the line would be a bus. One of those articulated ones driven by the clichéd frustrated, underpaid, overworked P.T.S.C. drivers who being so intent on getting his cargo of likewise clichéd unruly, indisciplined school children to Arima would not have noticed my hobbling efforts to get out of the way. To make matters worse, since the earthquake, I’ve noticed that a once insignificant crack in the road has widened enough to catch the thin heels of my shoes. See where I’m going with this?

I recently found an online study which merely reiterated what my papa has been saying for years: facing your fears is the only way to release yourself from them. That’s all well and good, but I think that particular concept works only on pansies who are afraid of trifling things like snakes, and terrorists. And too besides, in the event I do get rid of these fears, more will just rush in to fill the space and I don’t think those will be as entertaining as the ones I have now. I mean, have you taken a look at the news lately?

Why Bother?

You know there's a saying : the more I know of people the more I like my dogs? Well the older I get the more I can relate to that statement. I like people less and less as time goes by.

When I was little I was a screamer. Yep. Man, I had lung power that would rival that of Pavarotti. And my "terrible two" tantrums lasted well into my pre-teen days. But I only displayed my talent when I was forced to "socialise". Everyone thought something was wrong with me. My aunts, uncles and cousins were convinced that I was possessed by demons. Actually they still are...

The truth is I was never too fond of people. Now that doesn't mean I don't get along with them. My interpersonal relationships with my co-workers and acquantainces are excellent, and I've never been accused of being unfriendly or unpleasant. However, if given a choice I would always choose solitude. It's less stressful. By far. Besides, lately I've been noticing an irritance I experience whenever I have to deal with people; especially those at my place of work.

Now I realise that my job is one that belongs in the top twenty (at least) of the stressful jobs list, but is it really necessary for the people who work with me to behave like @$$holes ALL the time?

And the issue doesn't stop at work. It's EVERYONE I know. I no longer call the ones I'm usually acquainted with because I'm really not interested in hearing them boast about who they laid, wants to lay them, how much money they're making and their job promotions; or whine about their job, their girlfriend/boyfriend/person they're sleeping with at the moment/their parents...

Of course I recognize that while I'm complaining about how people irritate me, others probably have the same grievance about me. I highly doubt that though. Didn't I just say that I've been avoiding any contact with everyone? It's just too much effort maintaining all these contacts. Especially when they are barely tolerated. I'm 25 and I have yet to meet someone I like enough to endure their presence for long periods without getting bored, annoyed or both. And contrary to what the aforementioned family members say, I know it's not me; it's them.

It's like this: I don't see the point of surrounding oneself with persons who cannot be relied upon. Why must I invest my time and energy into people who don't give a fat rat's arse about me and my welfare? I may as well be alone. Hence my present position. So I suppose I should revise my stance:- it's not that I want to have nothing to do with people. I would prefer to associate myself with those who are honest, sensitive to others' feelings and a host of other positive qualities which are too numerous to mention here.

Until I can find such personages, I shall continue to be irritated and exasperated with the shallow cretins I have to face day in, day out.