Hello to all bread-and-butterflies, bog monsters taking residence in bogs, melting snow and ragtag bands of people traveling through a medieval world questing for orbs.
Today I write to you on a sunny, blue, melty-and-springy March afternoon. I think it’s Sunday, but I’m not totally sure. I’m kind of out of the loop of generally society. Ah, that’s what I want to talk about. Society. People. Cramped restaurants where you have to sit next to living creatures. I’ll try to make light of this as absolutely as I can– okay. Let me try. It’s so much FUN to have these irrational fears! It’s not weird at all to skateboard to your friend’s house three blocks away when there’s still snow and lots of ice on the ground just so you can speed past any people and not have to exchange looks with them– and when you get to this friend’s house, your skateboard is wet and maybe somewhat ruined, but at least you didn’t have to walk on the sidewalks like those regular people.
And then, I had this thought.
I’m not much of a runner. I don’t like running. I can skate for much longer than I can run, being a hockey player and all, but running is not something I’m very fond of. However– if I had to participate in a marathon, even a full 42k one, I am very sure I would blow all their doors off and win. I’d even beat the crazy Kenyans who always win two hours ahead of everyone else. Why? Well, my inability to run next to all those living people would propel me into a glorious flat-out sprint until I was past all of them and at the finish line. Then at the finish line I’d grab my medal, take my skateboard, and skate out of there as quickly as possible. But anyway– that’s good, isn’t it? I can make use of my irrational fears somehow. If I was at sea and the ship crashed and tipped right over, and I was trapped in a dark closet with a bunch of terrified people, I wouldn’t probably last five minutes, so I’d be able to– harnessing all the powers of anxiety– find some way for us to escape, either by tipping the ship back upright, kicking a hole through a metal wall, etc. I could give you lots of other instances. Say the world was ending– great fiery cracks were opening up, ash choked the sky, and so on– and I was in charge of the last group of human survivors, post-apocalypse. I wouldn’t be able to live among them, and that would drive me to be able to venture out and find food and water while everyone cowered in our underground bunker. I’d be very helpful there. Also, my irrational fears would give me some serious lone-ranger cred in the Old West; I would live aside from the towns, and there’d be legends about that mysterious girl riding away into the distance. Legends I say.
I’m not proud of these irrational fears of people, but I just thought I may as well get it out there.
Sometimes, I think the world would be a much better place if it was only me and my cat, and Cudgel. But then I might point out to myself that without people, there isn’t a WordPress; without WordPress, there is no blog, and without blog, there is no Onceabasementdog. Herein lies the problem.
Yours terrr-uly, Onceabasementdog.