The Helmet and the final class assigned podcast

I bought a helmet because I realized that I'm worth more alive than dead. Also, I realized that I make money by no other means than my brain, unless you count my freaking awesome AV job, which doesn't usually require brains or brawn but a good sense of humor. This is a reflection on my new helmet, which is an improvement over the bicycle helmet I had been using. I'll try to post some pictures of me in my helmet later.

Racquetball and a note on cursing

So, here's my third podcast. I swear (actually, the point is that in this I don't swear) that when this is no longer an assignment I'll provide podcasts with a, ahem, larger and more Anna-like vocabulary. I don't think even my ultra-conservative family members would object to anything I've said in these.

The Final Tally

With this entry, I've finished all my required blog posts, not including the two final podcasts I need to complete. I thought it prudent to supply a final tally of my challenges.

Scary things: 2. Anna: 2.

It's a tie. The anime thing panned out to a no point draw, but Sex in the City was a draw where we each came away with a point. The other point for me is the raw chicken, while the scary objects get a point for the creepy inanimate animate objects.

I might continue this blog. I do enjoy writing the Ranting Pacifist more, but this could be an outlet for all things scary. I could continue . . .

I think I might, at least for purposes of podcasts. Sam and I have discussed starting a podcast for some time now, so this could work as a place to put some of them. Anyways, what do you all think?

Things that move on their own

So, as promised, I had an encounter with an animated inanimate object. I didn't get a chance to plan this one or take pictures, so my recollection of the events will have to suffice.

Anyways, I wanted to be around one of these objects and not twitch or freak out. I forgot that the best place to see the creepy bastards was not Wal-Mart, as I had previously thought, but my granny's house. Granny decorates for all occasions, including the patriotic ones. Her decorations often move by their own accord, though they don't have souls. Maybe that's why I'm afraid of them - they move and have no soul. Maybe they eat souls. Like dementors.

Granny's already decorated for Easter - a holiday she won't even be in town for, mind. She's getting ready to go to North Carolina to visit her sister for the week of Easter. While I was home for Spring Break, I rarely saw Granny. I decided to visit during my last night in town, which was Thursday.

The night seemed harmless enough. We watched high school basketball on South Dakota Public Broadcasting, which was impressively almost professional coverage. But as the game ended, Granny wanted to show me something that my Aunt Cathy had given her for Easter. Here is where the item comes in.

I've tried, in vain, to find a video of the offending bunny. Oh well. The point is that Granny set it a few feet from me, obviously excited about her new toy, and pushed the button. It immediately sang "Here Comes Peter Cottontail" in a high-pitched voice while bouncing. It bounced so much she had to make sure it didn't fall off the table. She was watching me, assuming I'd be all excited too, so I tried to smile and not twitch. I think I managed a grimace and an "Oh, that's awful . . . cute, isn't it?"

I feel bad. She was so excited, but I was so obviously uncomfortable. Anyways, I didn't twitch, but I'm still freaked out by the things. I think inanimate animate objects may be the one thing that will always get me. They win.

As a consolation, here's a video of the Night of the Lepus trailer. Rabbits can kill, see?

Podcast of my dreams?

Here's the podcast I promised. It's about, as the title tells you, recurring dreams. My recurring dreams, to be specific. Click and listen. And comment.

Word to the Wise

You're wise because you listen to my podcast and read my blog. So here's the latest word:

I'm lazy, as most of you know, when it comes to certain things. Creativity is not often one of those things, but at the moment all my creative powers are tied up elsewhere, like feng shui and pretending I can't smell the cleaning products in the recently vacated apartment next door. The strength of the smell is saying something - I generally like cleaning smells. I think I live next to Monk.

Anyways, I've gotten lazy in my old age. So instead of rambling about my moped on the next podcast, I'm going to read one of my non-fiction essays. It's called "Recurring Dreams." It's not typical for me, but it's the shortest I've written and will therefore not require too much reading. I'm going to edit it to make it sound all nice and articulate.

A Return to Challenges Based on Fear

After two visual media related challenges, I've decided to return to physical objects. Namely, either my fear of certain textures, either fabric or plasticized stuff, or my fear of animate inanimate objects.

Textures that I don't like include raw chicken, as conquered earlier, and fuzzy stringy children's toys. I also don't like the feel of certain plastic products or gooey things. It's pretty general.

Animate inanimate objects are those objects that are not alive, but move without human control. Examples of these include reindeer made out of lights at Christmas, witches that stand outside of doors and talk and move during Halloween, and nearly anything with motion censors.

Obviously, I can't check these out from the library or eat them, so I either need to purchase them and keep them or find a way to try them out without keeping them. Luckly, both the textures and animate inanimate objects are available at Wal-Mart in the toy section. Most of these things are in packages that allow them to be touched or tried out, so I'm thinking this is the most efficient and least scary way to do this. And it means that Jackie could view it while at work, or that I could go with my sisters over my Spring Break.