Posts Tagged 'flying'

Deadman’s A-Z Guide to Living: Fear

I mulled over a lot of options while thinking about what to write about for the letter ‘F’. Faith, friends, family, fun, freedom, forgiveness, fatherhood are all topics I want to expand on at some point during this process, but in the end I chose ‘Fear’ because overcoming one’s fears is probably the single most important thing one must do to live the fullest, most productive life possible.

In small, rational amounts, fears are generally fine things, and certainly serve their evolutionary purpose, alerting us to possible threats and dangers, and preventing us from attempting feats which could prematurely end our lives.

Alas, fears don’t often come in modest doses; they prefer to go big, to expand into paralytic phobias, wiggling their way deep into our psyches, crippling us from doing things that could dramatically enrich our lives.

It’s fear that will prevent you from asking your high-school crush to the prom.

It’s fear that will keep you from majoring in theater.

Fear will have you settle for the first job offer thrown your way. Keep you stuck in your hometown.

It is why you won’t buy that stock, start that business, kiss that girl, write that novel, visit that city, join that group, forgive that enemy, fight that battle, take that leap.

It’ll convince you to avoid a confrontation and refuse a challenge, to shirk commitments and shrink from changes.

Fear is the bitter-tasting wellspring for jealousy and hate and cynicism and regret.

In the end, fear will only leave you wondering what might have been.

Overcoming one’s fears, however, is no simple task; I certainly have few answers. This is strictly a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ piece.

I mean, I know how silly most of my fears are, how freeing it would be to rid myself of them, yet they still cast a very strong shadow in my life.

I may have outgrown or pushed aside out of necessity certain of my fears, but mostly I have failed thus far to do something which I know is of utmost importance.

It’s all quite sad, and I’m sure you’ll find more useful assistance within modern psychiatry or on the shelves of your local bookstore’s self-help section. Or perhaps conquering one’s fears merely requires accessing a reservoir of inner fortitude I don’t have or haven’t yet been able to reach. I only hope you will be more successful.


Now for your amusement and education, I’ll quickly rundown a small sampling some of my more prominent fears – rating them on their intensity, rationality and impactivity (not a word I don’t think but should be) – and hopefully you’ll be able to see how destructive fears can be. Remember, this is merely a small taste of my fears, plenty more where these came from.


Intensity – Low. So ever since I can remember, I’ve always hated bugs. Could never watch nature shows about creepy things, certainly couldn’t stomach it when such creatures dared enter my childhood home, dismantling its aura of safety and security in one fell crawl. If I would see in my room a spider (they were the most prevalent threat in suburban St. Louis living), my plan was always the same: Immediately flee the scene in search of my mother or father to have them get rid of the offending creature. If neither parent were home, I would not return to the scene of the crime for many hours, at which point I would just pray that the bug had the decency to crawl to my brother’s adjoining room.

Thankfully, over time, this particular fear has dissipated. Granted, I still get the chills and make that crinkled-up face when I encounter a bug. And I still strongly believe that civilized man and creepy crawly things should keep to their own natural habitats (thus my aversion to almost all outdoorsy activities, most notably camping).

But I now have a wife of my own, who is at least as averse to creepy, crawly things as I am, and removal of such creatures now justifiably falls to me, the supposed man of the house. I generally succeed in the task, with only minimal shrieking.

Rationality – Medium. True, those creepy, crawly creatures generally mean no harm, and most couldn’t do harm even if they had the desire, but a small number can be poisonous and/or spread disease. And let’s face it, all of them are rather unhygienic.

Impact – Low. Even at the height of this fear, it was never particularly paralyzing. It did perhaps prevent me from pursuing my dreams of becoming an exterminator.


Intensity – Medium. I am still not convinced man should ever leave terra firma. I’m not a fan of the ocean, spooked out by its sheer vastness and by all the unknown, unseen things living in the blackness below (the fact I am not a strong swimmer doesn’t help), but my fear of the water pales in comparison to my fear of flying.

This fear has actually intensified over the years – I never enjoyed flying, but now I dread the days I must travel the friendly skies. For me, the worst part is takeoff, as the process of fighting gravity and achieving flight just seems totally unnatural and full of hubris to me, like it’s doomed to fail because we’re somehow disturbing nature’s laws or god’s will.

I think I’ve just seen one too many disaster flicks, but I just cannot fathom a more dreadful way of dying: Being trapped for several minutes in a plummeting, shaking vessel with nothing but the sound of screams and chaos to keep you company as you wait for the inevitable crash and the horror that will surely follow. (Well, perhaps drowning would be worse, but with some flights you have the chance of a water crash landing, making it a 2-for-1 special in worst ways to die).

Rationality – Medium. Now I know the stats that say flying is by far the safest mode of transportation, but I still believe the absolute horrific nature of what goes down in a plane crash justifies my fears on some level.

Impact – Low. So far, I’ve been able to just bear down and deal with the white knuckles. I’ve pretty much gone everywhere I’ve needed to go, including a couple of long trips to Europe and China. But with a new daughter, I sure do wish at least one set of grandparents lived within train distance!


Intensity – High. I’m pretty sure I was like most kids, completely unconcerned with my mortality. But ever since my maternal grandfather got sick some 20+ years ago, I began to be consumed by thoughts of death. Despite the fact that my paternal grandfather was the only close relative who died relatively early (mid-5os), I was convinced that I was going to die young. I think what I fear the most is the process – I don’t know what it’s going to feel like to die, but I assume there is going to be a lot of pain and suffering involved (I imagine it being like the worst flu you’ve ever had and you just don’t get better – though obviously a sudden death would be much different). I saw both my grandmothers die and it was an awful process, one that I think as a modern, evolved society we could handle a lot better. Many nights I keep myself up with thoughts of death and dying, often with me as the main subject. Unpleasant stuff, to say the least.

Rationality – Medium. You would think that this would be one of the more rational fears to have. Everyone does, in fact, die at some point. It’s likely to be quite painful. You don’t know the where or when, so there’s a disconcerting lack of control over the matter. And unless you’re a person of deep faith (in religion or science), what happens afterward is more than a little frightening to ponder. But actually, and partly because of all these reasons, death is a highly irrational thing to be afraid of – and certainly not worth wasting the precious minutes of living worrying about death often involves. It’s going to happen – you don’t know when or how but it’s likely going to suck – and you won’t know what comes next until it does, so why not appreciate your life and good health while you have them.

Impact – Medium.  Here’s the crazy thing – while the pain of death is certainly a major reason for my fear of it, at least a part of what I fear is that I will die with unfinished business and view my life as a waste of time and energy. But it’s my fear of dying, along with all of my other fears, that often prevents me from fully living. How utterly asinine.

The solution isn’t to ignore our mortality, either, which is what I find myself – and a lot of other people – doing, maybe as a kind of survival tactic (I know it’s somewhat contradictory for a person who fears death as much as I do, but even today, when I read about someone near my age who dies – an alarmingly more frequent occurrence – I feel oddly detached from the news, as if death was this surreal concept that won’t ever affect me or those closest to me). Instead, I need to respect death, come to grips with its finality, its inevitability, and its ultimate meaning, and use that understanding to better take advantage of the finite, glorious blessing that is life. Respice finem.


Intensity – High. These are actually two different fears but they’re closely related enough (and this blog is way too long already) that I’m lumping them together. Being rejected means being dismissed out of hand, without even being given the shot to prove yourself – think of the woman at the bar looking for the escape route, or the potential employer tossing the cover letter in the trash. Failing is even worse; It means you are given a chance but fall short of people’s expectations. Think of the woman several months later dumping you, or the boss firing you. In the former case, you fear people think you’re a fraud. In the latter, you know people think you’re a fraud. And in my life, both fears are omnipresent, and hugely paralyzing.

Rationality – Low. The worst part is these fears make little sense. First of all, only the rejected can give rejection its power. Who cares what other people think of us, our looks, our personality, our talents? You will never please everyone so you shouldn’t take rejection personally. Dismiss it. Scoff at it. Reject rejection. And as far as failure is concerned, it’s virtually a prerequisite for success. I defy you to find a successful person who hasn’t been waylaid by a significant failure at one point in their lives. The only trick is not letting failure stop you, which is, of course, a trick much easier said than done.

Impact – High. No fears have done more damage to me than these two. And while I won’t ever know the full extent of the opportunities that I may have lost because I was too afraid of rejection and/or failure, I do strongly believe I never reached my full potential because of these fears. In the words of the Rev. Sydney Smith: “A great deal of talent is lost to the world for the want of a little courage.”

Questions: The Quirks of a Quack

But we’re never gonna survive unless … We get a little bit crazy. – Seal

So-called normal people are boring. A little crazy is good. In fact, it’s a perfectly normal response to life.  Frankly, the only truly crazy people in this world are the ones who think they’re normal.

I certainly harbor no illusions of normalcy. In this long-overdue questions column, I point out some of my personal quirks of which I am most proud. And then I want you to rate them on the 1-10 crazy scale, 1 being ‘That makes perfect sense’, 3 being ‘I guess I can kind of understand that’, 5 being ‘Um, ok.’ 7 being ‘You are fucking loco, deadman’ and 10 being ‘The authorities have been contacted.’

Feel free to add your rationales and insights to your ratings, and don’t forget to answer the 10th question, where you reveal one of your own most intimate and quirkiest quirks. C’mon, everybody’s doing it! As always, the commenting will likely be heavier over on

1) Bathing

I read in the shower. I know it’s not eco-friendly, but I will often spend twenty minutes or more in a hot shower catching up on the latest current events. My apartment is full of magazines all dried up and wrinkled from having been used in the shower. I really want to invent a waterproof, see-thru device that you could place on the wall of your shower and stick a book or magazine inside. It would need to have some sort of external page-turning mechanism.

2) Flying

I am terrified of flying. I believe dying in a plane crash is one of the worst ways to go. I will often take a good close look at my fellow passengers before and while boarding a plane. I am actually not racial profiling for terrorists or looking for suspicious people, but instead I am on the lookout for rude, obnoxious jerks. I worry that if I am on a plane with enough of these people, then god may decide that I am an acceptable casualty in the name of making the world a better place.

Contradictorily, I also worry if I’m on a plane with a bunch of young children, like from some sort of sports group or camp, because I also feel god likes to do mean shit sometimes and will crash that plane if only to cause unnecessary horrific tragedy to teach some sort of inexplicable lesson.

3) Sleeping

I believe sleep is sacred. I love naps. Dreaming is super-cool, even nightmares. And I do not set alarms, except in the case of emergencies. The body will let you know when it is good and ready to get up. Since instituting my no-alarms policy, I have significantly reduced the occurrence of colds, flus and sinus infections, which I used to get twice or more a year.

4) Shaving

As you can tell from my dagbuzz videos, I don’t like shaving. I pretty much started my no-shaving policy except in emergencies around the same time as my no-alarms policy. I can’t say it’s provided a similar level of health benefits, but it certainly makes getting ready to go out easier.

Aside from the face and head, I do not like hair on the body. I tolerate hair on my chest, arms and legs, and fortunately have very little on my back, but I trim my genital regions regularly. And I cannot stand hair anywhere on women. I chalk it up to early exposure to Playboy as my first source of what the ideal naked female body should look like. It’s hypocritical because I’m pretty hairy, and unfair because it’s natural and widespread, but barring years of psychotherapy and hypnosis, I don’t know what I can do about it.

5) Fucking

I could probably write this whole post about my skewed views on sex. I think as a nation we are still oddly uncomfortable with our sexuality despite the fact everyone talks about it. Discussing sex and being completely honest about it are two different things. Here’s one of my many minority views on the matter: I do not feel it is natural to be with one person sexually for the majority of one’s life, and believe that ‘open’ relationships can work as long as honesty is the rule at all times and both people are aboard the concept.

6) Eating

I am a picky eater. I do not like eating things that are too slimy, or things look like they were once alive. I think people who like their meat rare or close to it are sick. Also, I will almost always leave a little teeny tiny bit of food on my plate no matter how much I enjoyed the dish. I do not know where this habit stems from, or why I do it – perhaps it’s an attempt to show off some willpower, or perhaps it’s an act of rebellion from hearing my dad ask me a million times to clean my plate because there are starving kids in Africa.

7) Dying (and Reliving)

I kind of believe in past lives. At least I believe that reincarnation is the most likely possibility after the less appealing but likeliest ‘we die and then it’s all over’ theory. I believe it is quite possible that our most intense fears and neuroses, like my one about flying, stem from bad experiences we’ve had in recent past lives.

I have one other potential theory – that I am living in a meta-universe that some other life form or species – not god although perhaps that’s an issue of semantics – has created as an experiment or as a game, kind of like their version of the Sims.

8) Singing

I love karaoke. I have one of the worst voices. But I love karaoke.

9) Dressing

My girlfriend calls me Sox. I wear socks all the time, except while in the shower, and on those very rare days when I wear sandals. My feet are almost always cold due to poor circulation, so it’s mostly a comfort thing, and not that my feet are so ugly I want to hide them. I especially hate being barefoot while in bed, as I equate the feeling and sound of toenails brushing against sheets to fingernails on chalkboards.

Around 10-15 years ago, there was a brief period when people who weren’t dads started wearing socks with sandals, at least with jeans, and I was overjoyed. I alternatively believed I started that trend, or was making up that trend.

10) Confessing (Your Turn)

You know the scene in the underrated movie In and Out when all the women sit around making embarrassing revelations to help the one woman with the gay son feel better. Think of me as that mom, and help a brother out by revealing one of your quirkiest quirks.

August 2016
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