scared yet?


(That’s the soundtrack of my week, in case you want to know.)

And now I’ll dive into the great depths and true topic of this blog.

I wrote that the soundtrack for this week is I AM TERRIFIED because I’ve been listening to them. A lot. And their name is really close to the description I feel I need to share of myself. I am not terrified, but I am terrifying.

I really think people are afraid of me. Really afraid of me. Maybe I’m paranoid in thinking this. But maybe, *maybe* because I’m paranoid, people fear me? This might just be the beginning of a vicious cycle…

My self-perception of me is that I’m a pretty real person. Not too alien-like. I try to smile, but not in a fake way. I can be quiet or loud, but not because I’ve got a personality disorder and can’t decide which voices I should allow to dictate my actions. I try to be aware of others, but not nosy. I don’t think I’m an ogre, but I know I’m no leprechaun. Actually, I’m not really green… but I do have green ink. And my lip is pierced. I think I’m pretty darn average. With this odd exception- people seem to fear me.

I keep thinking that it may be the tattoo/piercing thing. Movies have done a darn good job of giving every bad guy on screen some tacky tattoos. That subconscious association alone could possibly cause some people to cower. But then my tattoos aren’t always visible.

So what brings this all up? My lovely flat-tire incident. If you’re a facebook/myspace/twitter friend of mine, you probably saw some of my random updates.

I was fortunate enough to be able to pull over at a rest area when I realized my tire was going flat. It was a really busy time of day there, lots of people out stretching their legs, walking dogs, sunning themselves. After I realized I didn’t have a jack, I figured it’d be easy to find someone to lend one. One person offered to help change it, but only if I payed them *$$$*. He didn’t have a jack, but did look like he was jacked up on something. So off he went. And then I waited with the spare tire outside of the car. But any time someone would start to walk by, they’d look at the tires, but avoid eye contact with me. After about 20 minutes of convincing no one to help me (maybe 50 passed, and after a while I started to think about lunging at them and saying, “BOO!”), one of the workers at the rest area came over and said he was surprised no one was helping me yet. I wanted to tell him that I thought people were afraid of me, but was afraid it might scare him off knowing others feared me like the bird flu. Maybe I’m even feared like the swine flu.

It was with this mans assistance, and after he bent the frame of my Jeep and I had to tell him the jack doesn’t go there, that I was able to discover the fact that my spare did not actually belong to my vehicle. (insert some smarmy words directed to the car dealer that made this moment possible)

So, I called roadside and they sent the tow truck. About a 1/2 hour later, with one other person asking if I needed help during that waiting period, the truck arrived. And when the driver and other guy got out, they looked like they didn’t want to approach. The assistant actually took a step back when I started to walk across the parking lot to their truck, since they weren’t walking over. And it’s not like I was foaming at the mouth rabid. A nice ride in silence led me to the next scared populace.

Tire store. My tire is flat (duh). My tire is under warranty. This time the tire is not under warranty. I ran it flat. And the tire people don’t have a match. And I will have to buy my new tire. Insert best sentence to sum up my day, as I told them (with a smile on my face) that it’s ok, at least there was no accident, it could’ve been a lot worse.

“That’s a great attitude you have. We were really afraid you were gonna start yelling at us and be really mad.”

I would consider that maybe my attire was provoking these fears, but I wasn’t wearing any shirts that said “WILL KILL ALL LIVING THINGS IN SIGHT”. And I wasn’t wearing devil horns or chains, or carrying a sword or mace. I didn’t even have any live grenades with me!

So, I’m left with this mystery. And it isn’t just this week I’ve faced this. There are many occasions I’ve witnessed people’s terror-stricken faces, just before they fled.

So this is where I call upon you, my dear reader. If you aren’t too panic prone, and have some insight on my intimidation factor, please share. I promise I’ll receive it with grace, unless you call me Jackie. Then I’ll punch you.

4 thoughts on “scared yet?

  1. >You wouldn't dare strike your mother would you Jaaaa—oh shoot, I can't say it either. I am too terrified of my terrifying daughter to dare!Ummm, actually, I think the fear that those at the rest area had was that of dirty hands and bit of prespiration.

  2. >comming from a woman in her mid fifties please let me tell you what I have experienced. I must admit when I see someone with several tatoos and piercings I am a little put off scared I guess you could say , so thats just food for thought apperinces do make a difference

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