The Lucky Peak Dam.

Ironically, roughly two weeks after I make a post about "ridiculous things I'm afraid of" something wonderful on the topic happens.

It's Sunday, I'm off work, and Woods and I decide to go up to Idaho city. It's about 1 1/2 hour drive and we're like "Alright! Sunday! Let's do this!". And by "we" I mean "me", and Woods sighed loudly and knew she wasn't getting out of it. What the hell else are you doing, kid, get in my car.

As we passed most of the "Boise" exits, the landscape got more and more sparse, the buildings fell away and we were left with caked brown hills only dotted with sagebrush and dry grasses. Woods looks back and forth at the scenery that's more or less the exact same on both sides of us and says, "It's weird this is where we live, you know? If you took the houses and buildings away, this is what we're left with,"

"This is Nampa and Boise sans the life, yeah?" I muse. It's mid-afternoon, and there isn't a whole lot of traffic. It's too hot to appreciate the landscape, and I absently wonder if that's going to be the motto of my summer, with all the hikes I already have plotted out for the coming months.

"We get to drive past Lucky Peak," I say, nervously laughing. "That's where I saw the Rooster Tail, the whole reason I'm terrified of dams and shower heads and stuff," I add on, off handedly, "Let's hope it's not open today," Why would it be? It only goes maybe once or twice a year. How could it?

The Rooster Tail is as follows; "This water is more than what can be used for power generation, so it comes through the dam's outlet slide gates, or 'flip buckets.' The Bureau of Reclamation and the Army Corps of Engineers is releasing water from the reservoir to make room for expected rain and quickly melting snow. The release creates a huge plume of water, which looks like the tail of the barnyard animal." (source) (also pictures if you've never seen it)

The river comes into view below us and I tense up a little bit knowing there's a dam ahead. I'm mid sentence and begin stuttering. Woods holds up her hand to block my line of vision without hurting my view of the road. I keep talking, we keep moving. I am calmed knowing this is the worst of it; looking at the Boise River dam isn't that big of deal. Looking at Lucky Peak itself is kind of scary, but. The dam is passed. We're done. In an hour we're going to be in Idaho City looking at a rad forest and a rad ass cemetery.

Predictably this isn't the end of the story.

Fate would have it that yes, the gates are open and the Rooster Tail is out and about. I don't know at what point I saw the water, what point I saw that wall, a literal wall obscuring all vision, complete white, but I remember screaming and immediately crying. Maybe "crying" isn't the right word; I remember my eyes being wet and I remember whimpering and shaking. I think I was saying something. I pulled over at a parking area and told the bored looking teenagers managing it that I was just turning around. I see it in the rear view mirror as we drive off and I'm sobbing again.

Suddenly I'm a kid again. Suddenly that wall of water is coming at me from all angles in a shower stall, suddenly every shower head is threatening to fall off and become that wall and encompass me. Suddenly all dams have the potential to do it. Suddenly I am ashamed and terrified and the strangest, overwhelming fear I have is dominating me again.

I mutter I'm sorry over and over as we drive away. Woods says it's fine and I forget she didn't want to come in the first place. We go to the foothills, we find a trail and wander it for a while. Even the creek running through it makes me flinch but I ignore it and it's nice out. Woods talks about band camp. We laugh. We eventually leave and get Taco Bell. I take her home, I go home. Everything feels normal.

My Mom asks what I've been up to and I'm crying again, sobbing about failed plans and the Rooster Tail. I end up in her room, watching tv, can hear her on the phone with my Grandma telling her quietly "Nah, she's okay. . . you know how she's been with it since she was a kid,"

I eventually convince myself to take a shower after taking three over-the-counter sleeping pills and feeling like my body isn't quite in my skin anymore. I feel like jell-o, I feel the way I feel when I've taken an excess of downers, my being floating and moving ahead of my real, chubby, functional body. My spirit has escaped and I'm trying to keep up with it. I flinch and I yelp when I shower, constantly moving and trying to keep my eyes on all the walls. Don't betray me now, bathroom.

I sleep but my dreams didn't involve dams. I faced a fear and I ran away from it, screaming and crying.

Fear is a weird thing, guys. I've said it before and I'll say it again; it dictates practically everything I do. It's rare I get to see the actual source of the fear, the beginning of it. Too many parts of my brain fire off and I wonder why it ended up this way. How the genetics lined up and why I'm like this. It's weird. It's so weird.

here are some things i've read also you should too.

Again, as I am as the French say, "Lazy As Le Shit", here's another post from my class blog entitled "Shit I want to Read/Have Read and Think You Should Read". ENJOI.

So here's some shit I read/want to read. 

I feel like I should mention, first and foremost, my reading tastes! I like character centric material; where the "plot" is non-existant outside the main character and we, as readers, largely analyze them. 

Disclaimer that obviously this is my personal tastes and rambling and when I say "THIS IS OBVIOUSLY THE BEST BOOK EVER" it's subjective. I figured you already knew that but I hate how entitled I come off talking about my favorite books. Hurrr. 

Also I want to marry Virginia Woolf, no biggie smalls. 

RECOMMENDED: 

• VIRGINIA WOOLF. The only reason my "serious" stuff comes across the way it does is because of her. She isn't an "easy" read by any means; you definitely need time to get into her but if you want to devote the time into studying her style. . . uhhh you should. A good starting point is "Flush" (an autobiography about Elisabeth Barett Browning's cocker spaniel) and right now I'm working on "Orlando" which. . . I don't know how to explain. Wikipedia it. "Jacobs Room" is kind of an old school "Catcher In The Rye" (guy is in school, he goes and thinks about stuff) and pretty 'easy' if you're not deep reading. Her collection of short stories isn't bad either. 
• BRET EASTON ELLIS. A 'contemporary classic', I guess, he wrote "American Psycho" which GOOD LORD IS GRAPHIC AS ALL HOLY HELL BE CAREFUL but SO GOOD. Like, I had to take a walk and re-evaluate myself after reading it. He also wrote a "Catcher In The Rye" sort called "Less Than Zero", again, about a guy in school who thinks about stuff. Some of his other stuff is honestly a little meh, but those are the two I know and appreciate. 
• KURT VONNEGUT. He is hilarious and sad and confusing and so fucking realistic while encompassing these things. . . even occasional sci-fiish twists! HE'S SO AWESOME. He of course wrote "Slaughterhouse Five" but I really enjoyed "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater". 
• JD Salinger. We have a weird relationship, Salinger and I. I love him but I hate some of his characters. His prose is excellent and his tone is very reflective of the time he lived in. "Catcher In The Rye" is a must. 
• Sylvia Plath. Excellent poet and writer. Don't read her when you're sad; you'll get sadder and probably stick your head in an oven. Read any of her poetry or "The Bell Jar". 
• William Faulkner. Because the word "haunting" has never singularly described a writing style so well. "As I Lay Dying" will confuse you and make you feel things you didn't know you could feel. Or at least I did. 
• John Steinbeck. He's a staple, and like Salinger, he's worth it if only as what I assume to be a perfect example of what tone and style during his era was. Fair warning that any of his stuff is kind of slow and then sort of. . . punches you in the last 30 pages/the last paragraph on the last page. "Grapes of Wrath" and The Winter of Our Discontent".
• Sarah Kane is a playwright, not a novelist or an essayist, but her stuff is really good/terrifying/depressing. I've read "Crave" and. . .some of her other short plays I can't remember the titles of. Good if you like fragmentation; which is neat in creating a  different reading experience for each person. 

Also Harry Potter. Obviously. 

I'll add more to this as I think of it. I'm kind of drawing a blank now that I'm sitting down and trying to figure out what I'd recommend to people. Blah blah blah I'm in love with Virginia Woolf. 

I know it's probably not the best thing to say, but I feel like I should mention it even if it isn't reading because it's had a huge impact on my writing. Stand up comedy is the only reason I'm the obnoxious twat I am today, or people seem to be under the misguided illusion I'm "funny". Especially if the writing is clever and intelligent! It's good for you! I love me some Patton Oswalt. He's excellent and was also an English major! Fun facts! 

MEANWHILE. 

So here's the stuff I want to read! 

I'm going to copy-paste some summaries from wikipedia/google because I FORGET. 

Hunger. 
"The novel has been hailed as the literary opening of the 20th century and an outstanding example of modern, psychology-driven literature. It hails the irrationality of the human mind in an intriguing and sometimes humorous novel." 

The Flame Alphabet. 
"A terrible epidemic has struck the country and the sound of children’s speech has become lethal. Radio transmissions from strange sources indicate that people are going into hiding. All Sam and Claire need to do is look around the neighborhood: In the park, parents wither beneath the powerful screams of their children. At night, suburban side streets become routes of shameful escape for fathers trying to get outside the radius of affliction. The Flame Alphabet invites the question: What is left of civilization when we lose the ability to communicate with those we love?"

 The Miseducation of Cameron Post
"When Cameron Post’s parents die suddenly in a car crash, her shocking first thought is relief. Relief they’ll never know that, hours earlier, she had been kissing a girl.
But that relief doesn’t last, and Cam is soon forced to move in with her conservative aunt Ruth and her well-intentioned but hopelessly old-fashioned grandmother. She knows that from this point on, her life will forever be different. Survival in Miles City, Montana, means blending in and leaving well enough alone (as her grandmother might say), and Cam becomes an expert at both." 

House of Leaves.
WHO DOESN'T INTEND TO READ THIS OH MY GOD. I can't even figure out what to copy and paste about this, but here's the wikipedia. Reading the summary trips my balls off. Lord god.  

Look how cool this is. LOOK AT IT. 

I'll probably update these as I think of them. EH. 

eek.

Let's talk about being scared of stuff.

I'm scared of a lot of things! Here's my list: 

1. Dams
2. Ghosts
3. Mean ghosts
4. forests at night (they're haunted)
5. floating. . . things (like ghosts) 
6. nice ghosts
7. spiders.
8. the demon (ghost) from paranormal activity. 
9. math
10. my ex wife. (HAH! Just kidding. I'm scared of her GHOST.) 
11. Those red things from "The Village".

Okay so it's mostly ghosts. Shut up. 

Indifference is the only form of bravery I embody. I'm a coward, I'm a wimp. It's only when I don't care about something is when I manage to face it; not out of strength or willpower, it's an astonishing level of dispassion for the situation.

And you know what? It takes a lot to get to that point. It takes a lot of examination and a lot of evaluation to hate something, be terrified of it, make myself sick of it by thinking of it so much, and then literally, completely, not caring. 

I am untouchable because I am impartial. I am okaacy with these facts as they stand. 

I also stand firm in the fact that I'm okay with "ignorance is bliss". When I was like. 8 or something, I watched this thing on TV about aliens with my Mom. I DIDN'T SLEEP FOR A WEEK. I was convinced aliens were going to come snatch me out of nowhere because I watched a thing about rednecks in Texas seeing UFO's. Same thing happened with a documentary on Hell (and various religions "take" on the concept) and- this one is my favorite- the BERMUDA TRIANGLE. I thought it was going to come get me. 

Let me repeat that: I THOUGHT THE BERMUDA TRIANGLE WAS GOING TO KILL ME. I HAVE LIVED IN IDAHO MY WHOLE LIFE. 

So fear is weird. How do you get over your fears? I feel like mine is a daily struggle; I'm scared of people and talking to them and getting out of bed, going to school/work is really hard because of it sometimes. Whats your magic formula? Has anything stopped you from doing anything before? 

Uhhh I'm still not good at ending these. GOOD NIGHT I LOVE YOU. 

Be not afraid to write: better book titles.

Be not afraid to write: better book titles.: this is funny. because it's true.