the gods must think we're crazy (or perhaps its all part of the plan).

i mean, really.

today - suprisingly, while i was busy hanging upside down and screaming my head off - i had this epiphany. the gods (or perhaps God singular, or perhaps no god at all but rather whatever is Out There, detached and capable of making this observation)...they must think we're crazy. completely off our rockers, loony, barking mad, and whatever other appropriate adjective you can throw in.

it is the only explanation for amusement rides, and roller coasters, and other forms of insanity that spring from the depths of our human i'm-never-satisfied-with-anything, i-want-more-thrills-so-i-will-turn-myself-upside-down-at-fast-speeds-and-put-my-life-in-the-hands-of-fate-simply-for-30-seconds-of-fun-most-of-which-i-spend-regretting-my-decision-and-screaming-my-head-off minds.

but where do we get to the how to do it wrong part? you might as well ask, why would a seeming sane person ride every ride in the park as many times possible, only stopping because time ran out?

well i'll tell you a small story, the story of a girl - a girl who was afraid of lots of things. and since we all know who we're actually talking about, in order to save face, i must say - not afraid of lots of things, but really rather a reasonable amount of things, things it is generally acceptable for little girls to be scared of...the dark, and water, and guns, and heights, and roller coasters - to name a few.

so let me begin.

1. don't drag your mom's favorite lamp out into the yard while you're camping. yes, you are scared of the dark but no, you are not old enough to understand the concept of electricity. you are surpised no warm yellow light emanates forth from the device like it does when it sits so prettily on the side table in the living room. you can sort of make out the cord trailing back towards the house, into the pitch black of the night. it has a thing at the end that sticks into the wall. you try to stick it into the wall of your tent. nothing happens. you are 4 - confused, scared, and trying to pretend there is no world outside of your little tent. by the time you are 13, you will have embraced punk rock, goth-ness, hanging out the whole night in a cemetery, and the general kick-ass nature of darkness.

2. don't scream "why are you drowning me?!? why?! why why?! nooooo!!!" as your loving and incredibly patient dad holds you in the water at the crowded and very shallow end of the local pool. you are wearing flotation devices around your arms and waist and holding onto the wall, but this matters not. as you look out into the vast expanse of the pool stretching in front of you - all 10 meters of it, you shudder. so unknown. you are 5. by the time you are 12, you will want to be a marine biologist (having given up on paleoclimatology, which nobody seemed to understand and which, you had gathered, wasn't nearly as glamorous as you thought it would be - most of the fun seeming to consist of drilling ice cores from the arctic). by the time you are 14, you will be on the swim team, enjoying sailing with your dad and going whale watching on the harbour. by the time you're a high school senior, you'll have taken marine biology and oceanography. you are building an underwater remotely operated vehicle which you test drive, operating the controls from the shaky platform in the middle of the pool. it is a 100 meter deep navy submarine test tank. you worry whether the water is deep enough.

3. don't - actually, no. hate guns, do. i think they're the devil - always have, always will. but by the time you're 19, you may realize - after a disturbing few weeks shooting rifles at balloons - that you enjoy taking aim, steadying your arm, and firing; you are satisfied to see that brightly colored, obscenely inflated balloon pop out of existence with a little bang. you are disturbed, but perhaps you will take shooting lessons; there could be something there.

4. don't hold up the line at the 10 story diving board. you look down and whimper, just a little, under your breath, as bright blue water spins dizzyingly far below. from the sides of the pool, your parents call encouragement. it is not reassuring. their distant voices only remind you exactly how far down it is from up where you are. you stand there for many minutes. the boy behind you is not happy, and he lets you know. you step to the edge and gather your courage. one, tw-. you don't have time to scream as you find yourself falling, the victim of a not-so-subtle shove in the back. you belly flop, landing splat! with arms and legs outspread - a bit like a parachute, just a tiny bit faster. it hurts like hell. but after that first time, you are not so scared. by the time you are 15, you will have gone paragliding and cemented your love of flying. on your list of things to do in life is bungee jumping and handgliding over the wildlife reserves in tanzania. by the time you are 16, you will have escaped out the window of your 3rd story apartment in all sorts of weather - snow, hail, sleet, rain. you find yourself in college, trying to figure out how to climb up the hostel walls from the outside.

5. don't spend $30 on a ticket to six flags. you know amusement parks are not your thing. you're here on a choir trip and following your eager friends, you walk slowly to join the long cue for The Volcano. the wait is not reassuring. as you stand there, you see the ride operate six times - six sets of screaming people. six sets of twists and turns and rolls. you visibly flinch as a burst of flames is punctuated by a litany of blood-curdling screams. your eyes are glued - you cannot look away; it is a kind of horrified fascination. by the time it is your turn, you already know when to scream and when to pray. your eyes will definitely be closed all the way through. as you are seated you are filled with the certain knowledge that you want to be anywhere but here. as it begins, you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut. you are 13, and sure you are going to die. by the time you are 19, you will be egging your friends into hitting the local amusement park with you. you've already been there thrice this month.

and that, with the adrenaline rush just barely beginning to fade, is where i find myself. writing this blog. a die-hard, peace-loving, ultra-liberal, tree-hugging hippy who's looking forward to her shooting lessons with far more enthusiasm than she'd ever let on.

what can i say? there are lots of things in this world that are, if you look at them a certain way, insanity, pure and simple. but give them a try. somehow there's lots of stuff that seems to turn out way differently than you expect, but not in a bad way.

how to do it wrong? giving it all a miss. you never know what's meant to be, or where you're going to end up.