...except for me and my monkey! "Everything we see hides another thing. We always want to see what is hidden by what we see." -Rene Magritte

Saturday, March 26, 2005

I hate bugs.

And I know it's super unscientific, stereotyped, and a little illogical, but by "bugs," I really mean bugs, insects, anything with six or more legs, most non-feathered, non-pretty,things with wings (that means that butterflies--but not moths--and bees get a pass), and most land-dwelling things with no legs: snails, slugs, and worms.

Right now, especially worms. I don't hate the idea of worms. I'm totally in favor of the existance of worms, plugging away underground, nutrifying our dirt and digging tunnels and composting stuff. I just never want to actually see a worm.

See, it's been raining all day, and in the afternoon I walked down to a cafe that's about a mile away to get some reading done. Walking there, I noticed some worms on the sidewalk, but no big deal, it was light out and I could just step over them. When I was walking back, though, it was dark, and still raining, and about halfway back I realized that all of the straight little things on the pavement--what I thought were sticks that had blown off the trees and bushes--were really worms, and I freaked out just a little bit. There had to have been hundreds in a half-mile. There was no way I could dodge them all, but the idea of walking in a straight line and crushing them made me sick to my stomach, feeling sorry for both myself and the worms. At one point, I stepped on a squishy pine cone, and for one brief moment I thought it was, like, the king of the worms come to kill me and I jumped and went "Aaah!" Out loud. I convinced myself that I could smell the soft crushed bodies of the poor worms sticking to my shoes, and when I got back to the dorm I did the dog-doo shuffle all the way back to my room.

The funny thing is, I used to be pretty into worms, and bugs in general. We had an ant hill in our front yard, and until our grouchy old next door neighbor poured gasoline down it without our consent (and my parents were pissed), I used to sit on the sidewalk and let the ants crawl on my arms and hands. I used to actually seek out worms to play with in the back yard, and somewhere in the vaults of, like, KEZI or KVAL, there's footage of eight-year-old me in a tie-dyed jump suit, grinning and holding out handfuls of dirt squirming with worms to the camera when they came to Crazy Hippy Elementary School to film a segment about our composting program. Really, I don't know what happened.

The other day I was sitting on my bed studying when I noticed a huge crane fly or something on the wall perpendicular to me. I sat and watched it for several minutes, goosebumps on my arms, making sure it wasn't going to make any sudden movements towards me. The thought popped into my mind that one benefit of living with three guys next year is that I'll probably never have to kill or remove a bug from the apartment. I was sort of shocked at how sexist and stereotyped the thought was, and I promptly chastised myself.

But still.

Oh, and quotes:

K, the second-grade classmate of my little cousin D: "You're the best twenty-year-old I've ever met!...You're also the only twenty-year-old I've ever met!"

Ryan: "I like the newspaper. It's like the news, in printed form."