Brave Stupidity

You know those days you feel bigger than yourself?  When some ideas don’t seem as intimidating, that, on any other day would be an absolute, not on your life “No”.  I think I’d like to skip those days from now on . . .

Visiting the library here on base is a daily occurrence for me.  I’ll grab a weekly book to ponder, and more often than not borrow a couple movies.  Since the selection is approximately, a grand total of 150 films in the world of Hollywood and a gazillion down right dull military/war/educational videos for the enthusiastic marines; I have pretty much cleaned them out of decent, not so smutty flicks for my honey and I to watch. 

Upon my last visit I was down to the bottom of the barrel, which consists of those movie titles you’ve never heard of, and/or the ones everyone told you never to see.  As my eyes swept from one title to the next, moving along with my finger, my searching stopped at the "S's."  My attention was caught by an epic, even legendary thriller and one I had never wished to set before my eyes beyond the frightening cover.  You’ve all seen it- the white face of a terrified woman, mouth covered by a freaky skeleton moth,(Silence of the lambs).  But this time, instead of passing it by with the quick flip of the finger, a guility hand joined by dumb curiosity and boldness as an alibi, snatched it beneath the arm and out the door.

What spurred on this action, I’m not quite sure, though I had heard recently by my brother and close buddy Taya that ‘they’ thought it was awesome.  Reasoning in my mind, I figured if they could handle it, gosh darrnet so could I. 

Dumb, dumb stupid is all I can say.
The next brilliant decision I decided to make was to, yes; watch the scary movie at night.  A gigantic, I know better, stupid mistake. 

Three-o-clock in the morning we popped that thing in the player and directly following I proceeded to get clawing at the bed, ready to scream for help, scared.  That movie had me so freaked out, my head was pounding from plot stressing, my stomach hurt, I was trembling and poor Mike probably felt like his eyes were going to pop out, I was squeezing him so hard.  I didn’t even watch all of it.  My eyes couldn’t stay on the screen.  I’d get that funny feeling that some visual nightmare was about to take place and my field of vision went straight to the space of bed in front of me.  And in some moments, I had to fast forward or mute it; the tension was so gut-pinching high.

By the time we got to the end, Mike had probably asked me at least a dozen times if I was ok.  I was so relieved when it ended that when I inhaled the first real deep breath in two hours, the sudden charge of intense high flow of oxygen surged my body almost into shock.

It got to the point where Mike actually said, “K, you are to stick to Disney and Doris Day movies from now on, got it?”   
A light weight, sensitive and pathetic spectator- I may be- but only in regards to psycho, traumatic, demented and insanely twisted movies.
For lack of any other way to be mad at myself-

I curse the curiousity that hand-cuffed my better sense and blindfolded easily frightened eyes.