Wednesday, 4 June 2014

Scared of the Dark

More often than not I get inspired to write a blog post by listening to music, but I think that goes hand-in-hand with the fact that music makes me think about a lot of pointless things, pointless things that I figure a lot of other people must also have thought about. There’s no better time than when you’re walking your dog (or younger siblings if you don’t have a pet), jamming to your favourite tunes (unless the dog has poohed, otherwise the headphones make it really difficult to manoeuvre, along with the dog lead, poop bag, and a restless dog just dying to chase the ducks (context: I walk the dog along a lake)).


Recently I’ve been thinking about what makes me feel safe as a 22 year-old ‘man’ in the 21st century. I’ve also been thinking about how important that last part is: “22 year-old ‘man’ in the 21st century.” Fears transgress gender, age, location and even time. As far as I’m concerned, if I’m scared of walking down dimly lit streets in the middle of the night, then I can pretty much assume that my pre-stone age neanderthal cousin (which I’m convinced is an accurate description of Nigel Farage and his pack of paleolitic UKIP plebs (oh, and Nick Clegg)) was too… I sometimes amaze myself with the angles some of these posts take. BARE WITH ME!

I started thinking about fear when I was leaving my girlfriend’s house, late at night, walking down her long driveway to find my car. She lives a little bit out in the country in a small village so naturally (particularly after watching American Horror story, which is the best thing in my life right now (just kidding, I love you friends and family) every single horror movie that I had ever watched came rushing to my mind as I fumbled around in my pocket for my keys, not able to see 4 foot in front of my face. There’s nothing quite like the buzz of adrenaline, and the imminent threat of wetting yourself in fear, to make you panic.

Clearly I know that the Grudge doesn’t really exist and, no, I don’t believe I stand any chance of being demonically possessed in the time it takes to walk between my car and Linda’s front door BUT, as Justin Beiber said: “never say never!” (great guy)

Does admitting that I can get scared of being alone, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, make me less of a man? At university I learned through studying that ‘sex’ does not determine ‘gender’ - to explain that slightly better: your ‘sex’ is your biological, physical self that you can’t change (forgetting surgery, of course) - your gender is how you identify and express yourself. I’m no less of a man for being scared of the dark (and moths, pure creatures of terror) than a woman is less of a woman for enjoying football! I know this post is venturing very close to the boundaries of sexism, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing. There’s a lot of confusion around ‘feminism’ but that’s a post for another time!

What I want to know from you all is: what scares you? Please be completely honest! If the moster under the bed terrifies you, or the smell of bananas gives you the hibijibies (one of my best friends has the weirdest fear of bananas) then let me know in the comments below! Thanks for getting this far guys, sorry this was such a weird post! 


∆ Chat soon brochachos ∆