I'm just Super Saiyan

No one tells me anything, just saiyan…



Okay, so, as a person who has a biology degree I feel that I should be able to appreciate all of the little creatures and critters that roam this earth. Their anatomy is beyond interesting, studying their traits and characteristics makes for great insight into what makes this little world of ours so majestic. We have something to learn from even the smallest insects.

That being said, I think butterflies are the spawn of Satan.

I realize, after reading that last sentence again, that it sounds pretty harsh. So let me try and come up with another way to convey my feelings…uh…uhhh…um…  Yeah, no, I stand by that statement. I really, really don’t like them.

Look, don’t get me wrong, I love looking at butterfly pictures. I love microscopic images that show the details of their bad ass wings and pigments. I think their migration patterns are cool. Their life-cycle is fascinating. I even enjoy observing their little preserved bodies in museums.

But if those flying devil creatures come near me…I can’t help it. Some kind of deep, instinctive, survival adrenaline rushes over me when a butterfly crosses into my personal space. I just freak the fuck out. I scream bloody murder, my hands thrash around defensively, I run around in a random zig-zag pattern.

I don’t even fully understand why I’m so afraid of them. I mean, I am a giant human person, I have the means to destroy every inch of those savage butterfly beasts if I wanted to…

My fear of butterflies just can’t be explained. Like, I know why I hate roaches – they’re grimy, they infest your home, they can outlive you (I don’t trust immortal things). I know why I hate mosquitoes – I have an allergy to their bites so my skin puffs up like a fucking balloon if they decide to feast on my blood, also that buzz noise they make is annoying. Moths eat my clothes, so I hate them too.

But, butterflies? I got no idea. I love everything about them except when they’re on me.  Kind of like kids with runny, dripping nose fluids…they’re cute but don’t put them near me.

One time, I went to this place called Butterfly World. I agreed to go to this place because the way it was explained to me was that it was like a caged zoo for butterflies. You would enter a room and there’d be a net shielding you from the demonic flutter monsters, so you could look at their pretty colors and shit but you were totally safe.

I was wrong.

Apparently, these net shields were optional – like my sanity. This place was like a free-range chicken farm. Those motherfuckers were all over the place and I was scared for my life. I had my hands up in front of my face, waving sporadically around my head to make sure they wouldn’t land on me.

I just kept chanting Ace Ventura’s bat cave mantra – “I am not afraid. I am NOT afraid. I really like it here. I will fear no living creature...”

Then we entered a room towards the end, where apparently prehistoric giant butterflies lived. Descendants of Mothra took shelter in this butterfly zoo, and they were thirsty for my flesh. Mothra was a defender of earth…but her children only wanted to terrorize me. In my head I instantly came up with a million escape routes, my mother and brother looked worried about my bizarre demeanor. They didn’t understand, they couldn’t save me. No one could.

I shoved my way to the front of the room where the door was, but I was too late.  Mutant Butterfree did a kamikaze nose dive straight into my face. SHIT!!!!!!!!!!

I screamed and treated it like fire. STOP. DROP. ROLL. My arms flailed around, I wanted to call for help but all I could vocalize from my mouth was something that sounded like a cross between a whale giving birth and the Silent Hill siren.

Suddenly I could hear my moms voice, she brought me back to reality.

Mutant butterfree had spared me. Besides the emotional harm that came from embarrassing my family, no one was physically harmed in the altercation. I consider myself lucky to have survived. I went into Butterfly World and made it out alive. I hope I don’t have nightmares tonight.

Also, can we like, take a second to realize that Butterfree – the pokemon – is 3’07” feet or 1.1 meters tall? I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE AFRAID OF THIS.

What about you guys? What fear do you have that no one else seems to be able to relate to? What fears do you have that not even you understand why you have them?



The bloody Flu

So yesterday I got my flu shot! For free! Thanks to an on-campus health promotion event, sponsored by numerous university departments.

My hair frizzes as my immune system decides to get off its ass and start making antibodies! Yay!

In celebration, I played “Flu Shot” by Awkwafina when I got home:

I thought I’d take a few seconds now to see how many people have gotten the flu shot for this upcoming season. Don’t raise your hands all at once. I’m well aware that people are beyond thrilled to have needles puncture their skin, it’s like everyone’s favorite thing. It’s right up there with getting punched in the face and someone stepping on your shoe while you’re walking.

Which reminds me, I used to be deathly afraid of needles when I was younger. I’ll go ahead and include blood as well. I’m not sure where I developed this fear, because I never saw any major trauma happen in my life or to those around me. I mean, besides a really bad knee injury, I was never really around exposed bleeding. I can only assume that my fear – and let’s be real here, it was more of a phobia – for needles and blood came from movies, television or horror books. I went through a period of time when I would read nothing but horror books. It started innocently enough with the Goosebumps series, but then I got curious in the library about the other titles in the horror genre. I discovered Steven King, and that was a huge mistake with regards to my sleeping habits. Television was no better, seeing the news and the terrible atrocities occurring world wide would leave images of injured victims burned in my mind. But nothing beats movies. I never quite understood why my parents were so quick to shield us from the sexual scenes in movies we would watch together as a family, but there was no problem with me watching a man’s head get ripped off or explode. Gore was something that was common place in movies, so it was hard for me to watch without squealing and squirming at the sight of the fake corn syrup blood.

This duel dagger wielding douche bag injection needle is how I used to picture what happens when I got a shot – my innards would spurt out.

My phobia for blood and needles actually ended up dictating my career choices. Regardless of how much I wanted to be in healthcare, specifically to help people, I ended up choosing a major that stayed away from sharp objects and serous bodily fluids. It wasn’t until my senior year of my first bachelor’s degree that I would discover that needles and blood didn’t actually have the panic-attack effect on me like I thought they did. I signed up for an elective credit course called Introduction to Pre-professional studies, and through that course I was able to shadow several healthcare professionals. Several of whom were surgeons.

I remember very vividly the surgical technician asking me if I had ever seen a surgery before, to which I responded no. She took a few steps closer and looked me in the eye to let me know that if I were to feel nauseous or lightheaded that I should step out of the room. My God, I can faint witnessing this? What am I about to see??? So as much anxiety as I had for the moments leading up to the first cut of flesh, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that it did not make me want to pass out. I had never seen so much blood in my life. But I was still standing on two feet, eagerly listening to the surgeon as he explained everything he was doing. Could it be that I didn’t mind the blood at all?

I realize that reading this may make me sound like some sociopath killer, OMG BLOOD IS SO COOL – that’s not what I’m saying here. I’m saying that I lived my entire life fearing something that I never really understood, and when I encountered it in a learning environment, I was intrigued and not at all afraid.

I could crush it with my powerful giant foot – but I choose to be merciful and allow the needle to prod me in the tradition of its people. That’s what nice guys do. So olive branch the shit out of the next injection you get, it keeps the peace.

Needles are no different. Have you ever measured a needle? Seriously, like they’re not that big. Less than two inches. Honestly…how are we afraid of that? Getting an injection is no worse than getting a paper-cut. Actually, paper-cuts suck more because they leave you with that stinging feeling. You know the one, like, fresh acid. The needle is in and out in a matter of seconds. Sometimes your arm, or whatever body part you had injected, may begin to feel sore…but I mean, at that point its not really the needle’s fault is it.

I’m not sure where I was going with this post. So I’ll end it.