Tuesday, July 17, 2007
How you look at it
Our pal Andif and her husband Jim left for one of their hiking trips today, and in the comments last night she gave us us this cool photo to hold us until they get back with some new ones. I'm posting it because I like it, but also because she has managed to make something ordinary--a few leaves--look strange and otherwordly and maybe even a little threatening. Which just happens, heh heh, to synchronize nicely with the post I had already written for today. Of course. If you'd never seen a leaf before, what in the world would you think those were? They look to me like hot air balloons, but also like pods, possibly full of pod people. . .
If you don't mind my asking, what scares you? And I'm not asking about just any kind of scare, either. . .
I'm interested in a particular kind of fear, the kind that is in no way supported by any facts whatsoever at all. Like, how kids are scared of the bogie-man under the bed. Like, how I was terrified of werewolves. Like, how my neighbors deadbolt their doors as if we live in a high crime neighborhood when in fact we live in a no-crime one.
Are you scared of anything that can't be supported by the facts? Or, do you know somebody who is?
Half of why I'm asking is that as a fiction writer, I like to know what creates tension. But the other half of why I'm asking is that it interests me to watch society as a whole, and individuals--myself included--barricade and circumscribe and expensively defend our lives against things that not only will probably never hurt us, but which may not even exist.
I say "probably" and "may," because you can't actually prove there's never been any such thing as a real werewolf, can you? Sure, sure, you say that nobody has been attacked by a werewolf lately, but you'll never catch me strolling across the moors, alone, at night. . .
But, whew, it's daylight right now, so I think it's safe to get out of bed. And get coffee. And meet you in the comments. As soon as I pick these strange black, coarse hairs off the carpet. . .