Normal things that freak me out the more I think about them

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
162

What also freaks me out is thinking that, for example, the styrofoam cup I drank water out of at a picnic 20 years ago is STILL lying in a dump somewhere completely intact and will probably still be there when I die and for hundreds of years afterwards.
shudder

What also unnerves me is how you can tell when a house is abandoned just by taking one quick glance at it. It could have only been empty for a few weeks but there’s just something about it that looks so sad and lonely, that you just know it’s empty. It also amazes me how fast an abandoned building falls apart. A house could be occupied for 20 years but the minute the people move out, it starts deteroriating. Shingles fall off, paint flakes off, grass grows in the driveway. I know it’s stuff that happens to a house normally and the owners usually fix it before it’s that obvious, but it just seems to have twice as fast when the house is empty. It’s like the house just gives up.
I don’t know if that makes sense or not. It makes sense in my HEAD. :wink:

163

Go ahead and click. You know you want to.

Besides, it really isn’t that bad.

No, really.

Just click. Just click and look. It only takes a moment.

164

I clicked on it, and I’m permanently traumatized.

It IS that bad.

165

Not being able to prove that you’ve been alive longer than a second.

Everyone being psychically linked except for you, and being nice to you as the world retard; embarassed to let you know.

Someone sitting in their shop for hours meticulously dissassembling something purchased for ingestion, and slipping a poison which causes long term effects on your thinking and behavior patterns, meticulously peicing it back together flawlessly and placing it back onto the shelf with flawless discretion.

-Justhink

166

Yes, I agree. I am blaming the fact that I am still awake at 3:00am on Pugluvr! Really, did we all need to know that? eww…

167

I remember very clearly the moment when, as a child, I realised that my parents, and indeed the whole world, had existed before I was born. I was very young - probably 4 or 5, and it totally blew my mind. I suddenly realised that everyone was the centre of their own universe, an identity in their own right, and not just an accessory to my world. For a long time afterwards I would look at people, out of the window of the bus or whatever, and marvel at the idea that they had all these thoughts going on in their heads that I had no access to. They could be thinking the exact same thing as me and I would never know.

I’ve got used to the idea now, but I still find it pretty amazing when I think about it.

168

I am never touching my face, pillow, or head ever again. That link just completely wrecked any hope of sanity I still had.

169

I clicked it. God help me, I clicked it.

shudder, shake

UGH.

170

I’m freaked out that there are very evil people in the world, and that they appear normal to us until circumstances show us otherwise. Like the guy in Oregon who murdered the 2 girls and buried them in his back yard. He had children, and neighbor kids were staying at his house, and no one suspected what he was capable of.

171

Time…the concept of time! How its measured, the past, the present, the future, how it rules our lives, and how quickly it runs out.

The possibility of time travel is even more mind blowing!!:frowning: I know its been covered in numerous books, movies and TV shows, I am still freaked at the possibility of being able to move through time and affect the outcome of some event in the future or the past. Remember the Langoliers?:eek:

172

Nothing freaks me out.

No really, I mean it. The concept of nothing freaks me out. More so when I was a little kid (and back then I also used to get hung up on the idea of trying to invent my own primary colour – a colour not based on any colour that exists already… but I digress.)

Say I have a bucket with ten apples. “What’s in your bucket?” “Ten apples.” I dump the apples on the ground. “What’s in your bucket?” “Nothing.” “So what do you have?” “An empty bucket.”

Or say there’s a bell jar all air is pumped out so there’s “nothing” in the bell jar. What’ve you got? A vacuum.

You’re sitting on the floor staring into space. What are you doing? Nothing? No, you’re sitting on the floor.

Same with the concept of zero. Aaarrrrgh! Is there really such a thing as nothing???

173

Mushrooms. I mean, I love eating them, but there are so many different kinds! Who was the person who had enough courage to eat one after someone died of eating a poisonous one? How many people died or got ill in the process of determining which types were poisonous?

Also, what people will think of you after you die. What’s my lasting impact? What will happen to all my stuff?

Death generally is freaky. Look at all the obits in the paper. Does anyone mourn her? What secrets did he have? Kind of like people watching. What about the people who write obits? Do they ever think that they would’ve liked to meet one of their subjects while s/he was still alive?

The weird jobs people do—someone out there spends their time at work cleaning up the messes we make, supervising arcane bits of machinery, making sure things are in line with standards we’ve never heard of. Our newspaper profiled a guy whose job description mainly consists of watching other people urinate so that they can be drug tested. Imagine spending your whole day watching other people pee.

174

I’m with you Charmian. There’s something very weird about nothing.

0 % 0=?

Any goes into istelf once. Therefore the answer is 1.

But you can’t put something into nothing. Nothing goes into 0. So the answer is 0.

But 0 is nothing. You can put an infinite amount of nothing into a number. So the answer is infinity.

Thus, all three answers are the correct answer. Simultaneously, there is no correct answer.

My Zen teacher asked me what I did yesterday. I said “Nothing.”. He was quite pleased.

175

I work at the paper, so I can fill you in a little bit on this one. Most obits are sent in to the paper from the funeral homes; the home director gets the info from the family and it gets a cursory copyedit at the paper. The bigger, special obits that are actually a separate story and profile someone who was at least mildly noteworthy (I know, I know, we’re all special; you know what I mean) are written by reporters who have nothing else to do on slow news days.

Here’s something that freaked me out when I learned it. When reporters have nothing at ALL to do, they write obits for well-known people who aren’t dead yet, so they’ll be ready to move quickly when it comes time. For example, Ronald Reagan’s obituary, entirely written but with a few dates and numbers to plug in, with art and graphics and attractive layout, has been ready to move on the wire for years.

176

[minor hijack] Actually, I knew about that practice already. Wasn’t there some incident in the past couple years where an obit for someone relatively famous was accidentally published? I think the person had been in an accident or had something major medical happen to him/her and a few papers jumped the gun and ran the obit. [/minor hijack]

177

There’s this implement my wife has in her makeup drawer, right next to the mascara, which I can tell, by the way it’s designed, would be thrust into my hands if ever I was pressed into service as an emergency mohel.

She maintains the fiction that it’s for curling her eyelashes, but I ain’t buying it…

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And to go along with the pregnancy posts: Nearly a year ago a doctor handed me a stainless steel bowl containing my wife’s placenta. I’d been told during our birthing classes that the placenta is actually an organ.

At the time I looked at it with a bit of interested detachment (possibly having to do with the fact that my mind was occupied trying to come to grips with the fact that I was now a father). But since then, every time I think back on that moment, when I was actually holding an organ that my wife had grown inside her body over a nine month span, an organ that her body decided it no longer needed and had pushed out…I turn various shades of green.

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On the more esoteric side - how about laughter? How strange is it, these sounds we make when something strikes us as funny? How odd that, as far as we know, no other animal has a sense of humor? My daughter started laughing when she was about 4 months old, and I’m still trying to figure it out - what made her start then? Why not sooner? Why not later? Is there some level of mental or physical development at which we start laughing at things?

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re: Glass - isn’t glass sometimes classified as a liquid? It actually flows downward, even in a seemingly solid state?

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A very odd thing happens to me, sometimes when I’m reading, but mostly as I’m laying out text in a piece I’m designing. I’ll be looking at a word, and all of a sudden, I don’t recognize it any more as a word. It’s like I’m looking at a word written in Cyrillic, or some such. The individual letters are recognizable, but this common word is suddenly alien.

If I’ve been working on some text for a while, sometimes even the letters stop being a means of communication and reduce themselves to merely curious shapes with no inherent meaning. This especially comes when working in a vector-graphics program, wherein you can literally convert letters from written text into just a collection of shapes. Makes you understand how simple and yet profound writing is…

178

You may be thinking of Joe DiMaggio. I remember clearly sitting at home, watching something or other on ABC, and across the bottom of the screeen came the news that DiMaggio was dead. Very sad. Then a few minutes later came the retraction; he was very sick (and died not long after), but yes, they ran the news on national TV. I think I heard that Joltin’ Joe was actually watching TV and saw it too.

179

These all freak me out.
The mushroom thing–like who thought of it and how many people died before they knew which ones were good and which were not. OK well what about–who decided to first cook a cow or something? If a cow died out in the desert and layed there and baked in the super hot sun, wouldn’t that smell just like a hamburger?
Death, yes that is very freaky too. I don’t know about death. No one does REALLY know about it. Some people may think they do, and they may to an extent–but no one REALLY knows what it is like to be d-e-a-d dead.
The weird jobs–who are those nut balls who test out the effectivness of bug repellent or whatever, by sticking their arms in a box full of mosquitos?!? Like one arm w/ mosquito spray vs. one arm w/o mosquito spray… goodness

180

One thing relating to mirrors. I am used each day to seeing myself in a mirror, especially the mole apparently on my right cheek. It freaks me when I see a video image of myself that the mole is on my left cheek, not what I think I look like at all.
Cheers, Keithy

181

What I find creepy…

When I go over to someone else’s house, I always have this vague feeling that something’s missing, something essentiel, but it took me a long time to figure out what was disturbing me. I finally realized that I was freaked out because other people don’t have books.

Oh, almost everyone has a dog-eared copy of Danielle Steele and a dusty Bible laying around somewhere, but nothing else. Other people do not read for fun! They do not have shelves crammed with books on science, philosophy, poetry, history, language, all the things I find fascinating. They don’t have bookshelves at all. My bookshelves filled up long ago, so I began stacking books on the window-sil and tucking them under the bed, but if you’re not wary you’re liable to find them hidden under innocent looking pillows and placed in neat piles on the coffee table. But other people don’t do this! They don’t buy books at all, for some odd reason. Or perhaps they do, but then squirrel them away in a closet somewhere? Can anyone tell me?

Nichol,
creeped out by people who don’t read books.