Fact of the Day: Megalophobia

THIS IS SOME MESSED UP SCHIZZLE.
This morning I was high as a kite on Nescafe's finest, cruising through forums and generally having a little upvote party, when I found some people discussing a fear. It was something that hit home as I know I suffer from the same fear myself, and have never met anyone else with this same issue.

For as long as I can remember, I have been petrified of things bigger than myself. Actually, that's a pretty broad description. I'm petrified of things bigger than myself that should not be that size. Obviously, buildings are supposed to big, right? That's normal- doesn't bother me in the slightest. But when things are bigger when they're supposed to be (bear with me here, I promise this will all make sense soon) and not in the context that they should be, I start to freak out.

Mickey, what you doin? STAHP.
Now I'd like to think of myself as a rational, logical person; I'm not over emotional but instead pretty laid back. Like everyone else I'm dubious of large spiders and moths, not a big fan of heights or being part of a large crowd. However, in those situations with 'normal' fears I remain as calm as possible, and simply remove myself from the offending scenario with as little hassle as possible.

Of course, when faced with my own fear, which thanks to that forum post I now know to be Megalophobia (fear of large objects) I....well....I brick it. My pulse goes through the roof, I can't breathe as my chest tightens, I sweat and simultaneously go ice cold and leaving the situation calmly is not an option. In fact, running screaming comes as standard.

As far as I'm aware, the fear could be treated with cognitive behavioural therapy, but honestly, what would be the point? My megalophobia is something that only affects me once a decade or so, if I'm unlucky enough to stumble upon a hot air balloon festival or into a theme park where I've not scrutinised the website first for suspicious costumes and blimps. Seriously, most of the time, I'm fine.

Hot air balloons from the outset are terrifying- but making them look like friendly alarm clocks? AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT.
Not even sure where this statue is. Is it clever and well thought out? Yes. Should it be there, being all big and stuff?
HELL NO.
A couple of years ago, my mum asked me if I'd travel to Euro Disney to take my nephews on holiday. At the time, I had to decline. It's not that I couldn't negotiate three boys on the Eurostar and through Paris, but more the fact that in Disney, some of the costumes the characters wear are bigger than what they should be - and don't even get me started on the blimps in the parade.

What lives in a pineapple under the sea? EJ'S NIGHTMARES!
Now as you sit and read this, from your phone or your laptop or whatever, I imagine you're quite comfortable wherever you are- where in a direct contrast, I'm anxious and my heart is racing.

Why? Because like a good little blog writer, I got some photos to demonstrate what I'm talking about. All of them make my heart race for the wrong reasons, but the very last one is the creepiest of all- and for that reason, I'm going to attempt to edit these images into the text whilst squinting and wearing sunglasses so I can't see it's eyes. Yes, it's freaking eyes.

For years I'd just put down my fear as quirky, and certainly not anything that drastically affects my life. After all, I know how to avoid the things that freak me out, and can usually extract myself from the situation without causing to much of scene. I mean, how often do you come across a giant Spongebob Squarepants in your daily life anyways?

THEY ARE COMING TO KILL US.
It was only when one night I was on Reddit (read 'just like every damned night') and someone had posted a photo from their workplace that I decided to find out if there was a name for my irrational (and highly stupid) fear. Wherever they were in the States, where of course everything is freaking mahoosive for no apparent reason, there had been a storm. The Redditor had gone into his works at Maccy Ds and had taken a photograph. To anyone else, it was just a photo. To me, it was a complete fucking nightmare.

It seems that Ronald had fallen off the roof the night before, and was now upside down, glaring into the dark restaurant with a menacing glare that fills me with a thousand nightmares. Honestly, I've never  looked up Eyebleach so fast in my life.

So that's what Megalophobia is kids, and that's coincidentally what I suffer from and the reason I'll never see the Macy's Parade, hot air balloon festivals and anything inflatable that's not a reasonable sized bouncy castle.
FUCK ALL OF THIS.

Updated my Blog!

By 'updated', I mean 'redesigned' and by 'redesigned' I really mean 'sat on my ass for most of Sunday afternoon looking at fonts with all the creative drive of a house brick. I didn't mean to start fiddling with it, I really didn't - I'd just spent a couple of house updating my friend Mayah's blog with some nice plug-ins and a natty new design, and I think that's when my creative juices ran out.

I drank lots of strong coffee, paraded about the ground floor of the house deep in thought and idly doodled on paper waiting for some kind of inspiration to arrive, but it just didn't. Frustrated, I rushed the design and now it's bright green with nothing remotely 'ginger' about it. Fuck it - if the creativity doesn't arrive, you can't force it, right?

It's just frustrating as now I've spend half of my Sunday wasting time and can once again don the metaphorical Crown of Procrastination. In an attempt to put that crown in a dark cupboard and somehow completely change my personality trait from being a procrastinator to one of those people like my kid sister who spends her weekends getting up at dawn to do all manner of productive tasks, I started writing a diary again. Not so much a 'Dear Diary, my thighs rub together and I can't stop eating ice cream' affair, but more of a 'Jobs list for Sunday' thing.

In fact, I'd written a list called 'Blog Posts for the Future' whilst watching Casualty last night (not that I use car crashes and hospital drama to inspire me) and had neatly jotted down a range of posts that will one day soon, make it to this very page. That is of course, when I have disposed of my Crown of Procrastination.

Living on a campsite- a n00b's guide

Last time I checked, I've been living on this campsite for nearly four months with a potential leaving date from this park in mid September.

I am housed- and I use that term loosely- in an ex-customer tent that I'm sure has seen better seasons, on a patch of land affectionately often referred to as 'the homeless camp'. Our live area is shared by sixteen people, all couriers from three different companies, and the entire experience is not unlike living in an elongated episode of Big Brother.

Of course, this is my very first season as a courier, and unlike my neighbour Martin who boasts five seasons under his belt as well as a flat screen telly with satellite channels in his tent, I am, or at least was, completely inexperienced in the ways of packing to survive in such weird conditions. 

Therefore, I'd like to offer you the wise words that I needed myself back when I was informed one Saturday morning in April that I'd be flying out the following day.

Things you need:
  • Wellies;
  • Long socks;
  • A good hoodie;
  • Toenail clippers;
  • Headphones;
  • Nail varnish (for toes only!);
  • Hardcore flip-flops;
  • A long cardigan which will become your coat/bathrobe;
  • A Kindle.


Things you don't:
  • Nice shoes;
  • False eyelashes;
  • Books;
  • Anything more than a basic wardrobe of five garments- which you will use for work.


Things to expect:
  • Kiss goodbye to lie-ins;
  • Having little to no privacy;
  • Being able to hear your neighbours snore...
  • ...And have sex
  • Hearing the hokey cokey and Gangnam Style at noon and earlier on a daily basis.


Things you must do:
  • Make some time to spend alone;
  • Keep your knickers on (really? Must I explain this one? Your mother taught you better than that!);
  • Do your dish and clothes washing regularly;
  • Try not to get drunk and loud.

In short, you live on a campsite, and every single day you will feel unclean and grimy. Even after you've stepped out of the shower. It's so freaking hot that even your deodorant will slide off during application and you'll spend the summer looking like a greased up hippo. Thing is though, you don't realise how lucky you'll be; you're gonna meet some fantastic people, some interesting tourists and have lots and lots of fun. Even when it rains and your tent floods - you'll be glad you've took the plunge and gone to see some of the world, I promise.