bironic

I've experienced that uncontrollable shaking too. It's a good thing it happens after the fact. I was flying my plane back from its annual inspection and (like an absolute idiot) I hadn't checked the fuel gauge before leaving because it had been full when I dropped it off. But they must have test-flown it after some minor repairs, because once I was in the air and a few miles away from the airport, the engine began to lose power when I tried to climb. I soon figured out why and headed for the nearest airport (luckily they're pretty common in my area), continually scanning for good fields (or roads) to land in in case I couldn't make it all the way to the runway.

My voice on the radio must have sounded rather nervous, because the tower asked me if I wanted to declare an emergency. I told them no (the FAA never lets you hear the end of it if you declare an emergency) and managed to nurse my plane to the correct runway. After I parked it at the FBO and got out, my whole body started trembling. I had to sit back down for a minute before I could deal with fueling the plane. Needless to say, I always checked the fuel gauge after that experience!

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daasgrrl.livejournal.com

OK, now that would have been pretty scary. If it happens in a car, at least you get to pull over *g*. Is there a formal checklist or something you're supposed to do before you take off? (Although I imagine even if there were you might get a bit cursory about it over time.)

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Is there a formal checklist or something you're supposed to do before you take off?

Yeah, there is, and I even had a laminated card in the plane with the checklist on it. Being obsessive, I always checked every item. But this time around, it was a short, routine flight and I must have sped through the checklist (or saw what I was expecting to see—namely, some gas still left in the tank). I never skimped on the preflight checks after that incident.

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...Wow. I'm notoriously calm in life-and-death situations but lemme tell ya, I would have totally shit myself if I'd been you in that case.

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Scary! Good job keeping yourself together and resisting panic.

I'm also calm and take charge during emergencies, only to have the nervousness manifest when the crisis has passed. It's one way of dealing with being afraid, I guess, pushing aside thoughts of disaster and trying to control the situation.

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synn.livejournal.com

I'm afraid of dogs, even those I know, so I would have been just as terrified in that situation.

This one would have been more appropriate in response to your story about walking past a fallen classmate, but I was aiming for an equivalent h.s. memory... alas, I only got as far as junior high:
http://synn.livejournal.com/201191.html

(f-locked)

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Even Alex's dogs? Hm.

Despite the two memories I've posted so far and a third in the bank about negative encounters with dogs (the other (http://bironic.livejournal.com/10760.html) was last year), I like 'em just fine. Unless they're barking at me. Or appear suddenly in my driveway at night.

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I think so many of my memories are gonna be high-school related that I can't think of anything specific to post for today. So instead I'm gonna do a couple, based on memories triggered by other people's. :D This one's really simple, not an actual event but still a memory, and prompted by your icon.

Dachshunds have always been my favorite kind of dog. Any time I ever went near any kind of pet store with my parents we would have to go in and I'd gaze at any dachsie puppies they had until my parents had to literally pick me up and carry me away. When I was four or so we actually got one. My Nanny (mother's mom, and my favorite person who ever did or ever will exist) thought she was the most ridiculous little dog she'd ever seen and always referred to her as Banana Nose.

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synn.livejournal.com

Alex's dogs are less frightening b/c I've had opportunities to get to know them, but yes -- certainly when I first met them, and still to a point (you'll notice, if I'm ever at alex's again when you're there, that I never approach them, and only pet them when necessary).

I think dogs are nice. I like watching dog shows and I'm sure if I owned one it would be a different story, but I have to interact with a dog for at least a year before I'm comfortable around it.

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nicocoer.livejournal.com

High school Was THe land of Sleep Dep for me. After about 4am or so I would get the shakes, and then they would stop for about 5 or 6 hours or so, then start again as the adrenilin rushed through my system again. One time was awake from 1pm on a saturday until 3am on a wednesday. Durring that time, I felt so powerful, so capable That I never wanted to sleep again. But, of corse, I couldn't even try to get to a week, which is the point when you supposedly go nuts. I Had an exam that I had to Act for, and even the semi- hucinating brian knew that attempting that would have been a Bad Idea. I slept for four hours, and awoke refreshed.

Looking back, I wish that I had that sort of determination and control over my sleep patterns now. because then, I could go to sleep. now, it takes sleeping pills to get me to drop off for more then an hour. b00.

~N~

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Wow, I've never been able to stay awake anywhere near that long. Your description of the shakes and feelings of invincibility reminds me of movies with insomniacs like The Machinist and Fight Club.

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(OMG, good movies. But Fight Club is a better book than movie.)

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Fight Club book > Fight Club movie > The Machinist. I liked how the book didn't rely on the Tyler "twist," that it was clear from fairly early on and the story went on, whereas the movie seemed to need that extra dramatic suspense. Also, I thought the movie's end was ridiculous. The Machinist...whole lot of dread and confusion for very little payoff.

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Ooooh, I was absolutley crazy for The Machinist. Now I have to go back and see what I said about it...

"I really loved this one. I'm not usually a big fan of Christian Bale but I thought he was pretty fantastic in The Machinist. It's a great study on insomnia and guilt, and watching Christian Bale weigh like 115 pounds is almost physically painful. I like how it felt like a cross between a Kafka story and a Hitchcock film (both thoughts I had before listening to the director's commentary, I swear to God) and it had a weird off-kilter dream-like feeling that I really adored. ♥ I'll probably seek this one out again before too long and may even end up buying a copy of it.
"

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daasgrrl.livejournal.com

Do you think it was mainly because of the dog or the darkness or the stories? I imagine it was a pretty big dog *g*

(And now you're making me think of Cujo...)

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The surprise in the darkness most of all, although if it had turned out to be a person or a very small animal (I think the dog was a golden retriever), the fright would have dissipated faster. I like dogs, but coming across one unexpectedly out of nowhere at night is another matter.

(Cujo = scary. Although it was because of that book that I was able to guess the diagnosis in "Histories.")

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If it had been a person, I think I would have been even more spooked!

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Well, a person I knew. A stranger definitely would have set my heart pounding.

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I know that feeling! The clinks would have freaked me the hell out.

When I was in high school (actually it was probably college...but, uh, that's your high school anyway, right?), my mother hit a cat. I was in the car at the time..it was night and a black cat, which is never a good combination.

Anyway, my mother was upset, but we couldn't leave it in the middle of the road. We pulled over and I got out to move it, because I knew making Ma do it would have been horrible. I took some plastic bags out of the boot for my hands and went to kneel by the cat - there were no visible injuries, but its eyes were open and glassy. Trying not to give myself time to think, I went to move it.

The second I touched the cat I burst into tears. No warning, no prickling, just sudden uncontrollable sobs from deep in the chest - probably the hardest I've ever cried. It took me twenty minutes to calm down...I'm still not sure why I had such a violent reaction.

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roga.livejournal.com

It's a perfectly understandable reaction of the shock, sorrow and disgust you must have felt... not exactly the same, but this summer I tried my hand at fishing for the first time. Someone offered to put the bait on the hook for me, but I thought if I was doing this, I might as well do it all the way. The second I touched the worm I just jerked back with shock, heart pounding, feeling I was overreacting like hell but unable to stop shuddering. I couldn't recall ever having had that kind of strong immediate physical reaction to anything.

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I loved hearing both of your stories. Isn't it fascinating (even if sometimes in a terrifying way) when we trigger a primal reaction, something left over from our ape days still alive in the bases of our brains? To have that prickling, whole-body wariness when alone outdoors at night, and the fight-or-flight response if something moves or makes a noise; to be deeply disturbed when touching a dead animal; to jerk away from an insect or worm instinctually even if we know intellectually it won't do us any harm. To experience for a moment that pure, raw emotion or reflex that may seem silly or irrational now but may long ago have saved our lives.

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What's intriguing is that is seems to bypass the brain entirely, doesn't it? No matter what you're thinking, no matter how you've trained yourself mentally - the reaction comes anyway.

I've always avoided baiting things! But on a similar note, that's why I can't understand people eating prawns. I mean urgh, you have a whole dead creature in front of you.

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I'm endlessly intrigued by how the body does things over which we have no control. Not to go all pseudo-paleoanthropologist on you, but I wonder if in this instance you were experiencing some sort of instinctual mammalian reaction to coming into such close contact with another injured/dead mammal.

One of my co-workers saw a car hit a cat on the highway on her way to work one morning a couple of years ago. The driver kept going, but they were in traffic, so my cw, who loves cats, was able to pull over before she passed the injured animal. She picked it up with paper towels and put it on the floor by the passenger seat. It died before she got to work. She was shaking and fighting tears when she wrapped it up in more paper towels and put it in the woods next to our parking lot.

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What are you talking about, the pseudo-paleoanthropologist game is fun! :) Although, way back humans would have had to hunt, skin and prepare animals without even flinching. What do you think makes the difference?

My god, how could you leave a cat behind? Especially in traffic, and especially if it's still alive. But your co-worker seems like a wonderful person.

Hmmm. I wonder if I would have had the same reaction if the cat had been dying, but not yet dead?

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:'(

Not all that long ago (this past year some time, I think, and if not then definitely within the past two years) I was driving into town to pick up some Chinese food. I was still on the backroads when I saw a little cream-colored lump in the road. I slowed down to see if I could tell what it was and it turned out to be a kitten. It was wet outside and the poor little thing was in a puddle and there was no way I could possibly just leave it there. I pulled over, got out, picked it up, put it on a plastic bag on my back seat and started walking door to door, knocking on each one to try to find out who the kitten belonged to. Nobody was home at any of the houses, though, so in the end I had to just leave the kitten on the bag on the side of the road where it wouldn't be hit anymore. Instead of continuing on to get my food, I turned around, went back home, curled up in bed and was woefully depressed for the rest of the day.

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That's so awful. All of these memories about dying cats are making me want to go hug a live one, but I don't have one yet!

BTW, I love your icon. What a cute tuckered-out kitty!

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Yeah, I wanna hug a kitty, too, but mine got hit by a car earlier this year. x_x It was on purpose, too. You could see the tire marks on the road showing that the person swerved to hit him. I've always been okay when pets die, except for cats. So I decided I can't have cats anymore and I haven't found another suitable companion yet. I'm considering a hedgehog, though...

Here, take a peek at this to cheer you up! It sure as hell made me giggle: http://independentsources.com/2006/07/12/worst-company-urls/

And I love that kitty in my icon. He's just like "IT'S BEEN A ROUGH DAY, GUYZ." ♥

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It was on purpose, too.

I just don't understand how people can do things like that. :(

Thanks for the link—it made me laugh out loud. (What were some of these people thinking when they came up with these URLs?)

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I don't get it, either. It blows my mind trying to figure out how anybody could be that awful, and I'm pretty goddamn mean sometimes.

And I suspect most of those people weren't thinking when they came up with those URLs. XD

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On purpose? That's revolting...I don't understand how a creature's life can be a game to some people. It reminds me of something that was on the news a fair while back - four teenage boys had been caught on train station surveillance kicking a kitten around. Abusing it by literally kicking and throwing it to each other. Eventually they threw it on the railway tracks to die and left.

For the record, all four boys were turned in by their parents, who were more or less disgusted by it.

As for the kitten you found - you must be an incredibly brave person, trying to find its owner. I wouldn't be able to face them, though I'm sure they'd have appreciated it.

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Eugh, ew. :( I really just don't get it. I mean... I once kicked a dog, but that was because it bit me and drew blood and it came toward me again and I didn't fancy being, like ... eaten alive. It was a capital-letters Big Dog. I can't imagine hurting something little and cute and helpless just for shits and giggles. :(((

With the kitten I found, mostly I felt like I really needed to at least try to find the owner because I would've wanted someone to tell me, instead of having to find the poor little guy on my own. The thing I was most scared about was that they wouldn't believe I didn't hit it myself. I would've owned up to it (really tearfully) if I had, so the prospect of being blamed when it wasn't my fault and I was just trying to do something nice had me extremely worried.

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I know I wrote a memory in a comment above, but that was a fairly recent one, which to my mind doesn't really count (I'm sort of adhering to your guidelines). So here's the "real" one for today (not locked): Madame Librarian (http://elynittria.livejournal.com/18121.html#cutid1).

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mer-duff.livejournal.com

Sort of a combo of 1 & 3...

When I was in Grade 10 I shredded my ACL playing soccer and spent six months on crutches. About a week after I got the cast off, I was hopping down the stairs at school, chatting with a guy I had a mild crush on. I was paying more attention to him than to the stairs and slipped, landing on my ass and twisting my bad leg under me.

I didn't do any more damage, but it freaked me out. My father taught at my high school, so I went to his office to tell him what happened. After he made sure I was okay, he reamed me out for not being more careful, which wouldn't have bothered me except my Phys/Chem teacher was in the room. That happened to be my next class and I was so mortified I refused to look up from my desk the whole period. He was lovely, though - I think he thought I was upset about my knee, so he tried to tell me reassuring stories about friends who'd had the same operation. They weren't, in fact, all that reassuring (I didn't actually want confirmation that I wouldn't be running for a year), but I appreciated the effort.

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(I remember you saying in the author's notes to your story about Wilson hurting his toe playing street hockey that you've suffered a lot of sports injuries. I guess this was one of them!)

Ergh, how embarrassing. That was sweet of your science teacher to try to soothe you, even if his efforts didn't work as intended.

One of my good friends from college's father was an assistant principal at her high school, which led to all sorts of awkward situations with her friends as well as with other teachers. You probably have a whole arsenal of stories about what it was like to attend school when your parent was a teacher there.

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mer-duff.livejournal.com

Toes and knees are my trouble spots :) I don't even count bruises any more...

My mom taught at my primary school and my dad at my high school, so I only had a grace period of three years (5-7) without a parent at my school. I could probably fill the remaining 28 days with stories about that!

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Oh boy, I bet you could. That must have been interesting.

The worst sports-related injuries I've had were a sprained ankle while ice skating (from falling over someone who fell in front of me) and a ... hematoma, I guess, from smacking my leg with my badminton racquet (also very painful, and has left a bizarre, ring-shaped, bluish mark around the vein).

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mer-duff.livejournal.com

Ouch! The ACL was the worst, at least in terms of recovery time, but I've managed to injure a knee in just about every sport I've ever played. I even managed to gash my left knee open after literally throwing myself over the finish line during a 200 metre race. Both my parents were present for that one and while my mother mustered some of her students to get first aid supplies, my father lectured me on waiting too long in the race to kick into top gear (he was right). But I won.

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topaz-eyes.livejournal.com

Yikes. Strange dog in the darkness is scary no matter how you look at it.

In Grade 10 our high school band, orchestra and choir went to Jamaica. My home town was twinned with Ocho Rios/St. Ann's Bay (an international cooperation program) so we stayed there. So, there were 10 girls in our group, and we hung out with the (male) tour director. Which was cool. Until one of the locals came up to him in Ocho Rios and asked "How much for one of your girls?" :-\

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Yikes right back at you. Was he very matter-of-fact about it? I know you were relatively young at the time and may not have picked up on it, but were attitudes towards prostitution different in the town/in Jamaica than in the U.S./Canada?

An adventurous friend of mine lived in Niger for a semester at college. In one of her weekly diaries to the people back home, she wrote about how she'd been frankly propositioned at an open market by a man looking for a wife. (Or maybe he had approached one of the native male teachers she was with -- I don't recall.) Apparently it's quite normal for women there to be bargained for like that.

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topaz-eyes.livejournal.com

I think he was at least partly serious. We weren't the only group from our high school propositioned either. I heard one of the Grade 13s was offered $100 Jamaican (about $33 Canadian) for his girlfriend. And, when we were getting our hair braided in Ocho Rios, one of the local kids, all of 12 years old, asked what we did when we made love.

So the attitude towards sex was quite different than in the US/Canada. I think it was telling that I'd never seen a condom billboard ad until I went to Jamaica.

(deleted comment)

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