The room we rehearse in is always freezing (except when all the actors leave the room and Liz the SM and I turn the heat up and sit under the vents). I’ve been wearing more and more layers every day; I’m two steps away from bringing a blanket or buying a Snuggie. The last couple days I’ve even resorted to wearing scarves, which I thought I would never need in California. Today I had wrapped my scarf around my neck twice when I recognized a familiar sense of anxiety…
…which I then placed as coming from the fear that, when I wrapped my scarf fully around my neck, someone could come up behind me, pull on the end, and break my neck, or strangle me, or otherwise cause me harm. Where did this fear come from? I thought of Isadora Duncan and her untimely scarf demise, but this feels like a deeper fear, something that would have had to be instilled in me at a very young age.
Of course, it must have been my mother.
Here are some other things I’ve recently realized I still (sort of) believe in, leftover from my childhood, even though my brain tells me it’s stupid:
-Premade chocolate milk: made from the milk that comes out bloody from the cows
-Don’t sit directly in front of the TV: the radiation comes out and then down (I guess I know where my brother and I used to sit)
-Reading in the dark ruins your eyes
What did you get told that you still believe?
The Cameraphone Diaries 
3 replies on “The danger of scarves”
Something that I still believe:
When I was little and still lived in Buffalo, my family and I used to drive to my aunt and uncle’s house in Michigan for all holidays. It was my favorite thing in the whole wide world to do because I got to play with my cousins (by play I mean follow around, they are all a lot older than me). I was probably about 7 or 8 years old, and my grandma got sick so my parents decided to to move our Michigan back one whole day (the horror!!!). Instead of taking the news like a champ, I whined and whined and whined. A day later, when we finally got on the rode to go to Michigan, my dad told me this: “It’s a good thing we didn’t drive to Michigan like we were supposed to. See all those big trucks driving by? Well, yesterday truck wheels starting falling off of those semis and began chopping cars in half. I listened to the news report this morning and according to the what the reporter said, it happened right when we would have been on the rode. It’s a good thing we didn’t leave yesterday.” Because of said story, whenever I am a car that is driving past a huge truck, I have to close my eyes. Thanks dad (and Syche for stirring up this memory).
You almost just ruined chocolate milk for me.
[…] three years ago, at the inception of this blog, I wrote a post that ended up being about things I was told as a child that I still firmly believe. Since then I’ve kind of made a mental note whenever I think of […]