I know this may be surprising, but I have a confession today: I’m a pansy. A big pansy. No, I’m not talking about my sexuality (besides, posts on sexuality are just so blasé!), I’m talking about the fact that I am afraid of everything.
The first movie I ever remember watching was Gremlins when I was about three. I remember it was Gremlins because it caused me so much mental trauma that I, to this day, cannot eat after midnight or touch water. Needless to say, thus began my phase of fleeing in terror to my parent’s bed in the middle of the night on a regular basis when I was worried monsters were going to eat me. That phase lasted for almost a decade.
Gremlins clearly ruined me.
And it didn’t just stop there. Shortly after that movie, I watched Child’s Play, which stars a psychotic, serial killer-possessed doll named Chucky — see, I had thought it was a movie about Chuckie from the Rugrats, because when you’re only four you think if someone has the same name and the same hair they must be the same person! As you can guess, the two Chucks were very different and instead of laughing and growing from terrible childhood humor I ended up being further scarred and my parents got some more nighttime visits from their squealing younger son.
This sort of behavior continued for years and years. When I went to see Jurassic Park around age six I insisted on watching the film through my coat sleeve so that I could see the action but not too much of it! If that isn’t the behavior of an easily spooked but adorable child I don’t know what is. Worst of all, during my first year in Bozeman I remember having to leave the preschool classroom when we were watching A Troll in Central Park because near the end something bad happens — I don’t remember what — and I started sobbing uncontrollably.
I’m much less of a terrified Trevor anymore, but I must admit I’m still a grade-A certified Pansy, as proven by the fact I couldn’t sleep for about two days after watching the new War of the Worlds. Every time I closed my eyes I would imagine being trapped in a room with Tom Cruise and unable to decide which was worse; having my innards taken through a tube to feed aliens or having to live with Tom Cruise.
If you’re as much of a coward as I am, I salute you, brother-in-terror.