I finally planted my garden at home! The plants were all way beyond ready and living in flats in the front yard… So thanks to Dad roto-tilling and fencing a nice sunny space (probably the only sunny space) for me, I was able to get everything in the ground. Tomatoes (purple ones), kohlrabi, lettuce, nasturtiums, eggplant, sorrel, yarrow, thyme, and cosmos. Oh, and three super tiny chamomile plants that I highly doubt will live, but I refuse to give up on them.
And looking at the list of what I planted, I realize that a bunch of it was for prettiness.
I really am turning into a flower sort of girl. How terrifying. The other day I decided I want to have peonies someday. Peonies! Just look at the word! It makes me shudder. I’ll have to offset this strange new tendency toward prettiness by getting a pet tarantula or something. Except I would probably feel bad for the food-crickets, and then there would be a big horrible dilemma and probably everyone–crickets and tarantula–would die in the end. Or they would escape and turn out to be radioactive science-lab bugs and grow to the size of horses and eat fou-fou dogs.
Well. That was quite a tangent…
But speaking of spiders (and old horror movie storylines), the other day Mom and I went into this one labyrinth-like vintage store. It’s kind of a spooky feeling because you’re downstairs in this maze of clothes and records and whatever, and there are mannequins lurking around, and you rarely brush with another human. If the mannequins weren’t creepy enough, this time there was a life-size Spiderman… thing. I don’t know what to call it. Like a mannequin, but it looked more lifelike and it had that spider mask on, the eyes of which had an evil yellow glint. It was standing in the middle of the hall with fingers splayed like it was waiting to snatch us.
Mom: “Oh, here’s the other hall.”
Me: “No no no no nooooo….”
Me: (points to the Spiderman) “I don’t want to go near it.”
Mom: “Seriously?…. You’re so weird.”
Well, I did scrounge up the courage to walk past it, but I didn’t take my eyes off it for one second. Also I may have used Mom as a human shield.
Can you blame me? Not-alive lifelike things are creepy.
But don’t you think it strange that we’re often afraid of stuff like that? I mean look at how many times dolls are used for creepy effect, or as the creepiness themselves. And why are dolls creepy? Because they look alive, but they’re not. So why don’t we just go back to cornhusk dolls, then! People, we created this problem, because we created lifelike dolls. Same goes for all the robot/computer-coming-to-kill-us stories. We invented computers and robots! In fact, even if the thing we’re afraid of involves something we didn’t create, like a wolf, we still mentally give the wolf things, like the ability to talk, or the desire for revenge, that a wolf doesn’t actually have. And with the dolls and the mannequins and the statues– we work so hard to make them look real, and then, once we achieve this feat, it scares the pants off us.
Basically, we’re responsible for a lot of the stuff we’re afraid of. (Also, Frankenstien? Another perfect example of trying really hard to create something, and once it’s created being afraid that it will kill you in the night.) (Although he didn’t create the monster the way he wanted to. He was traumatized by how ugly the monster was. So is that why we’re afraid of the things we create? Because we create them imperfectly, and then we’re afraid that they’ll hate and come back to haunt us the way that the Monster hated Frankenstien for making him so ugly and therefore alone?)
I just think that’s paradoxical. And by paradoxical I mean oh, the fascinating human nature! Blah blah blah.
One more random thing… Yesterday we got something in the mail about the County Fair…
Mom: “Oh, what’s the theme this year?” (reads cover) ” ‘Wind Power for the Future’?”
Dad: “Yeah, because their fair blows.”