Gazing into the Square

Why are we so fascinated by animal shows? We will watch hour after hour as crazy people go delving into woods, crevices, holes and waters looking to show us things we never want to come face to face with! We hover eagerly waiting to see creatures chase and catch prey as large or larger than we are... and wanna see more!

I admit I'm one of those fascinated by their habits. I love to see these crazy people put themselves in harms way. Humans are the most insane, most dangerous, most moronic, most intense creature out there. And we love to watch people get into the strangest situations. We laugh, gasp, cry and get frustrated right along with them as they struggle and survive the worst we can throw their way.
We invent fanciful methods of trouble and put them in it and when logic won't save them, we invent new ways of dealing with the trouble we created. And we love it!

"Oh look! Its a deadly flesh eating bacteria infected spider! Lets see if I can get this little fellow to crawl over my hand. If we're lucky, he may even bite me!" Moments later we're eagerly waiting to see if the hospital has the anti-venom. Have we as a species reached an insane madness, or are we just testing ourselves to find our own limits? I'm not sure. I find myself drawn to several conclusions however, one of them being I'm missing my show by writing this (turning to watch as crocodiles try to drag down a gazelle).

It's little wonder that we're willing to surrender to those things we consider safe. Home, TV, food, family, traditions and spending time by sharing stories. Maybe we're just wishing we could be as brave as they are...but aren't we really? I think it takes more bravery to stay the course and believe in yourself, trust in love and care about others around you. But... I'm missing my show...(turns to see a crocodile lung at a man holding a baby)...oh, It's ok, I've seen this episode.

Biological Clock

When I was little, I dreamed of having babies. Dolls were wonderful children – they never cried, talked back, threw up on you, absolutely perfect. But then one day I learned what happened when you had babies. First you had to get real close to a boy (which when your eleven is gross) and then you had to carry it inside you for, like forever. (Nine months to an eleven year old is like 20 years to an adult) And then it ripped its way out, which, like, had to be painful! And if you haven’t noticed I find myself flashing back into ‘valley girl speak’ for no apparent reason. It was then that I decided I was never having babies…ever! And I made sure everyone knew it.

Around the age of thirteen I began to baby-sit. Mostly it was awful, and sometimes it was fun. But on rare occasions I could almost imagine being a mom, and it didn’t seem so bad. Around 15 or 16 I think I decided that maximum efficiency would be best. Twins – as if you can control what you get! You go through the exposure once and get twice the product. Now that I’m in my thirties and have successfully hit the snooze button on that horrible biological clock for shall we say the fifth time, I am convinced I want to experience childbirth, but don’t want to raise anything. I mean when I’ll be turning 50 they’ll be 18! Which brings me back to my original point – expectations being what they are, It’s more fun to dream than to actually do anything about it.