Making Myself Do It

The thing about not writing is that not writing makes it harder to write when you decide you want to get back to writing. And, as it turns out, also seems to make you construct some pretty awkward sentences.

Since I was for well over a year shunning any writing that was any longer than a Facebook status update I feel pretty out of sorts. Idea come into my head but don't seem to form themselves into coherent sentences and I'm afraid if this keeps up I may have to give up all together. Give up before I've even given myself a chance to get started good. So to that end, and if you'll kindly indulge me, I'm going to take some time over the next few weeks or so to just write simple things - stuff with the aim of getting myself into practice. It may be lists of things or maybe just a small memory of something that pops into my mind. Nothing fancy but then again fancy is a word seldom used in reference to me.

They say the best way to learn to write is to write so I'll take that advice.

Fears I'd like to conquer:

1. Riding escalators. A drunken fall down one over fifteen years ago gave me a pretty strong fear of them. It used to be that I'd avoid them at nearly any cost but doing that has become not only inconvenient but embarrassing as well. In the past six months I've gotten better and use them almost exclusively. Riding up one is no trick at all anymore but riding down? I'd like to do it without screaming internally.

2. Kitchen hazards. My husband was a professional chef before his accident. I've heard a lot of stories about what it's like to go to cooking school for a couple years, work as an apprentice cook and then graduate, work as a cook and then actually be the one who runs the whole kitchen. I've also heard lots of stories of how he's cut his hands repeatedly, burned himself and even the terrifying story of how nearly boiling oil was dumped down his leg. All these stories have convinced me that if I went to work in a professional kitchen I'd be fired within an hour. I must have overly sensitive skin on my hands because I shy away from any source of heat. Taking anything out of the oven or off the stove required that I wear the thickest oven mitts I can find. I cannot bear to fry food if my skin is in any way exposed. I wear an old glove to cover my hand while frying bacon. And chopping vegetables takes me quite a while because I'm afraid of cutting my fingers. I can't even fathom using something like an electric slicer.

3. Birds. I have a love/hate thing with birds. Birds that are outdoors, flying around doing their birdy thing are all right. And birds in cages are fine even if I feel sorry for them. The problem is when they want to interact with me. I get a little wiggy if pigeons walk too close to me. Sparrows that land on the same park bench as I'm sitting on are okay but keep your little ass on that side. And heaven forbid I be indoors when a parakeet is loose.

4. Electric drills. I can use them in a desperate situation but all I think about is the drill bit breaking off and flying into my skull. To that end I have to ask someone to come drill holes for me every time I want a picture hung.

5. Climbing ladders. I don't mind heights. What I do mind is my crap sense of balance. I've been skittish about climbing too high since I was in college and stepped backwards off a desk onto a chair that was supposed to be there and was instead there. One trip to the ER and diagnosis of a mild concussion later...