Bring it.

12 May

I don’t care how much you love life, live in the moment, and feel unafraid of death, when your doctor calls you at 8:00 on a Friday night and says, “Well, I don’t think it’s cancer,” your world is gonna get a little fucked up. Normal life just kinda stops. You do the bare minimum that you have to in order to get through the day. Bacon, bicycles, science classes, sleep, and getting blood money from Germany on behalf of Holocaust survivors (oh, and NOT WORRYING ABOUT HAVING FREAKIN’ CANCER) is more than enough to worry about. Blogging didn’t make the priority list. Sorry.

And so it was that the blog fell silent for nearly a month.

<deep sigh>

Happily, I can now report that I do NOT have cancer. I have quietly (yet also maniacally) celebrated that news for the last 5 days, even as I continue to stew a bit about the fact that my imaging and test results remain (surprise) “unusual.”

Yes, a diagnosis remains elusive and testing will continue (joy), but at least I’ve re-established my equilibrium sufficiently to enable my return to the blog-o-sphere. Thank you for your patience.

Before my unexpected medical hiatus, I had begun drafting a legendary RANT regarding the veritable company of assclowns who are cramming piles of stupidity into my current academic quarter. Alas, I must forestall that screed until my quarter terminates because I STUPIDLY embedded a blog tale into a “digital artifact” that I submitted for my sociology class. Having had my 16-year relationship blown up by an internet troll who went deep diving into this blog taught me to keep potentially inflammatory materials away from trolls — especially if they can bequeath grades. So, you’re gonna have to wait ~6 weeks for my academically related lament. Again: I’m sorry.

To make it up to you, I will now rant about the evil people with whom I share a large amount of DNA: My family.

I really do not understand how these people can be so unfailing supportive of all my crazy adventures and so tolerant of my probably pathological need for bicycling time and yet so irredeemably HORRIBLE when I (stupidly) shared with them my ONE true, deep, real, and absolutely pathological fear.

I should’ve known better.

did know better, given that I had successfully foreclosed their knowledge of my phobia for more than ~25 years (as best I can remember, this fear began early in my college career).

Why I let this thing slip out on Mother’s Day (of all days!) is beyond me, but even MY OWN MOTHER piled on the “jokes” and gibes!


Pelekysphobia is real, you assholes!

All. Day. Long, these assholes would point out the giant fucking flying dinosaurs who were ready to chomp my head off.

Auntie Cristin, look out, there’s a pelican! — Just kidding, it’s a pigeon. (from the 9 year old)

Auntie Cristin, truth or dare? Dare. I dare you to walk up to a pelican. DAMMIT, no, then truth. OK, then is it true that you love pelicans? (from the SIX YEAR OLD!)

Ooh, kids, look — there’s a pelican postcard, let’s buy it and send it to Auntie Cristin when she doesn’t expect it (from my sister).

Oooh, a ceramic pelican statue, I wonder how much that would cost to ship to Auntie Cristin (from my other sister).

Hey, there’s a pelican over there. Hey, there’s a pelican over there. Hey, there’s a pelican over there. Hey, there’s a pelican over there. Hey, there’s a pelican over there … about 43 times BY MY MOM!

And of course we had to rehash the pathetically petrifying close-encounter I had with a death-mongering pelican who clearly targeted my head as it plunged from the sky. Ask any of them (mom, sibs, in-laws, nieces and nephew) — they all will say that my narrow escape from the homicidal pelican absolutely was THE highlight of the Zeisler Family Mother’s Day outing.

And it didn’t stop once I took my leave of them. Oh no, here’s what happened when I got home:




And now here I am blogging about my phobia, knowing full-well than 95% of you are giant assholes as well.

PEP, P8, Ryu, etc. — I’m looking at you and I say:

Bring it.

Go ahead and engage in a little virtual flooding.

Or is it systematic desensitization?

Or modeling?

I should know this, but my abnormal psych professor has a bit of a problem with nailing down her definitions …

Tune in in ~6 weeks for the REAL rant on that topic (among others — including the unsolicited, unwelcome hug-from-a-stranger episode that was somehow engendered by my abnormal psych professor’s befuddlement).

And in the meantime: Let’s see what you’ve got, internets….

I’m ready for your flocking flood of virtual pelicans.

8 Responses to “Bring it.”

  1. Laura Hastings May 12, 2014 at 10:03 pm #

    Cristin- as usual, you continue to inspire me with your tenacity and ability to remember what is truly important in life. And… Pelicans??? Really? 🙂

    • justadventures May 12, 2014 at 10:08 pm #

      Yeah. Pelicans. THEY ARE FUCKING SCARY. No one can argue with that! I used to also be super phobic about bridges, but I got over that one by climbing the one in Sydney.

  2. Carissa Barker May 13, 2014 at 3:05 am #

    I hate clif hangers…

  3. Tiela Chalmers May 13, 2014 at 8:50 am #

    Ok mostly I’m thrilled about the medical, non-pelican-related news.

    • justadventures May 13, 2014 at 9:01 am #

      Really? You weren’t most thrilled by being featured in my “digital artifact”? You’re sweet. 🙂


  1. A sky filled with hot firefighters… | JustAdventures - March 9, 2017

    […] my long-standing, deep-seated, highly illogical, but completely valid and totally overwhelming fear of pelicans. Since that time–and entirely as predicted–members of my family and one extra-devoted […]

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