Return of Memoryfest - Day 7/31

[bironic]

I owe some of you comments and will get to them, but not tonight. Am sick, I think. Or have a bizarre mid-winter allergy, which I suppose wouldn't be too bizarre after all, seeing as how it hit 70 degrees today.


7. Kindergarten

When I was five or six, my father needed to go to L.A. on business, so my family took a trip there. We visited the La Brea Tar Pits museum. Inside were exhibits on the pits, life-sized models of woolly mammoths and animations of extinct animals deep in the tar, straining to pull free. Outside, you could walk up to a railing in cement over a squared-off fossilized tar pit far below. I remember not wanting to go close to the edge, afraid I would fall in. My parents tell me I was terrified I would get stuck in the tar.

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[thewlisian-afer.livejournal.com]

Mortality itself has never ever frightened or worried me. As a matter of fact, it's always kind of fascinated me. (I like going to wakes... Funerals, not so much, because they have a much more permanent and somber feeling and it's truly the final goodbye. But I go to wakes for people my parents knew and I didn't even meet, just to observe.) Suffering on the way out, however, is a big fear.

(Also, ET freaked me the hell out, too. I still hate that movie.)