Over the years I’ve had a lot of people tell me, “You must be really brave!” or ask me, “But weren’t you scared?” when I mention various things I’ve done over the course of my short life. What have I done to elicit such reactions? Well, the following are the most conspicuous offenders:
• When I was 16, my 15 year old friend Melissa and I joined her 21 year old sister for a month long, unsupervised jaunt around Costa Rica. During this trip I boarded a “bus” that was little more than a covered pick-up crammed full of people – one of whom had a gun strapped to his hip.
• When I was 20, I went to Russia for six weeks. At the time, the US State Department was issuing warnings to American citizens, advising them to avoid Russia due to a ten-year high in anti-American sentiment.
• When I was 21, I went to Russia for seven months, during which time I frequently hitchhiked home alone in the middle of the night after clubbing.
• When I was 22, Melissa and I moved to South Korea to teach English.
• When I was 16, my 15 year old friend Melissa and I joined her 21 year old sister for a month long, unsupervised jaunt around Costa Rica. During this trip I boarded a “bus” that was little more than a covered pick-up crammed full of people – one of whom had a gun strapped to his hip.
• When I was 20, I went to Russia for six weeks. At the time, the US State Department was issuing warnings to American citizens, advising them to avoid Russia due to a ten-year high in anti-American sentiment.
• When I was 21, I went to Russia for seven months, during which time I frequently hitchhiked home alone in the middle of the night after clubbing.
• When I was 22, Melissa and I moved to South Korea to teach English.
• Five months later, we snuck out of the country in the middle of the night.
• When I was 23, Melissa (she’s often my partner in crime, huh?) and I spent two months in Costa Rica, subsidized by our on-the-fly web design business.
• When I was 24, I drove from Florida to California by myself.
• In California, I worked as a Special Agent for twenty-seven months. (No, that is *not* a lie.)
• My government job sent me back to South Korea when I was 25, during which time I visited the DMZ and straddled the 38th parallel in the treaty room at Panmunjom.
• When I was 26, I moved to Russia for a year to teach English.
• When I was 27, I rode a motorcycle across the melting ice of the world’s deepest lake, Lake Baikal (located in Siberia).
• I am currently living in South Korea, Kim Jong Il detonating nukes north of the border not withstanding.
I don’t consider any of the above acts of bravery – they’re just part of my life, how I live. (Okay, some of them – namely the 3am solitary hitchhiking and the motorcycling across Lake Baikal – were definitely less bravery and more lapses in common sense. And that solo drive across the US? That was simply done out of necessity; I couldn’t very well have started a new job from the wrong side of the continent, now could I?)
Looking back over the 28 years of my life, there’s very little that I’ve done that I consider *brave*. To me, bravery implies facing a fear and conquering it. And I don’t mean going bungee jumping because the idea scares you – that’s just stupidity. I mean facing down a fear that you might very well encounter in everyday life. That being said, I doubt that those individuals who expressed awe over my so-called “bravery” would be too impressed by the handful of times I’ve successfully removed spiders from my living space. (I’m sure my mom – who loves spiders, by the way – can vouch for the times I’ve had her do the spider-removal for me, even as an adult.) Yes ladies and gentlemen, spiders give me the willies, and I do my best to avoid them at all times. As I mentioned in my reply to Stephanie’s original reference to arachnophobia, I believe there’s a direct relationship here to my exposure at a young age to Tolkien’s spiders of Mirkwood and their ginormous relative, Shelob. Thank you, Peter Jackson for so vividly bringing that nightmare to life for me. Seriously, a shiver just ran through my entire body.
But other than returning spiders to their native habitat (i.e., anywhere where I am not), I can think of only one thing I have done in 28 years that I view as having been an act of bravery: When I was 25, I asked a guy out. And it even worked out pretty well for a time too. So yeah, in 28 years, during over half of which I have been quite interested in dating, I have asked a sum total of ONE guy out. I don’t think I’d ever been quite so nerve-wrackingly terrified in all my life. And don’t even get me started on making new friends. It’s just not something I do. I have no idea how one goes about successfully meeting people outside of school or work. The thought of going to a bar or club alone is petrifying. (And I did actually try my hand at online dating when I first moved to CA, and let’s just say I’m never doing *that* again!) I haven’t made any new friends since moving to Korea, and I’ve been here nearly six months. I don’t mind; I’m fantastically self-sufficient, and I’ve been having a blast since I’ve been here (and I did already have one friend living in Korea when I arrived, so it’s not like I’m all alone or anything). I would like to have more people in my life, but the thought of trying to go out and round up new friends is, honestly, frightening to me.
• When I was 23, Melissa (she’s often my partner in crime, huh?) and I spent two months in Costa Rica, subsidized by our on-the-fly web design business.
• When I was 24, I drove from Florida to California by myself.
• In California, I worked as a Special Agent for twenty-seven months. (No, that is *not* a lie.)
• My government job sent me back to South Korea when I was 25, during which time I visited the DMZ and straddled the 38th parallel in the treaty room at Panmunjom.
• When I was 26, I moved to Russia for a year to teach English.
• When I was 27, I rode a motorcycle across the melting ice of the world’s deepest lake, Lake Baikal (located in Siberia).
• I am currently living in South Korea, Kim Jong Il detonating nukes north of the border not withstanding.
I don’t consider any of the above acts of bravery – they’re just part of my life, how I live. (Okay, some of them – namely the 3am solitary hitchhiking and the motorcycling across Lake Baikal – were definitely less bravery and more lapses in common sense. And that solo drive across the US? That was simply done out of necessity; I couldn’t very well have started a new job from the wrong side of the continent, now could I?)
Looking back over the 28 years of my life, there’s very little that I’ve done that I consider *brave*. To me, bravery implies facing a fear and conquering it. And I don’t mean going bungee jumping because the idea scares you – that’s just stupidity. I mean facing down a fear that you might very well encounter in everyday life. That being said, I doubt that those individuals who expressed awe over my so-called “bravery” would be too impressed by the handful of times I’ve successfully removed spiders from my living space. (I’m sure my mom – who loves spiders, by the way – can vouch for the times I’ve had her do the spider-removal for me, even as an adult.) Yes ladies and gentlemen, spiders give me the willies, and I do my best to avoid them at all times. As I mentioned in my reply to Stephanie’s original reference to arachnophobia, I believe there’s a direct relationship here to my exposure at a young age to Tolkien’s spiders of Mirkwood and their ginormous relative, Shelob. Thank you, Peter Jackson for so vividly bringing that nightmare to life for me. Seriously, a shiver just ran through my entire body.
But other than returning spiders to their native habitat (i.e., anywhere where I am not), I can think of only one thing I have done in 28 years that I view as having been an act of bravery: When I was 25, I asked a guy out. And it even worked out pretty well for a time too. So yeah, in 28 years, during over half of which I have been quite interested in dating, I have asked a sum total of ONE guy out. I don’t think I’d ever been quite so nerve-wrackingly terrified in all my life. And don’t even get me started on making new friends. It’s just not something I do. I have no idea how one goes about successfully meeting people outside of school or work. The thought of going to a bar or club alone is petrifying. (And I did actually try my hand at online dating when I first moved to CA, and let’s just say I’m never doing *that* again!) I haven’t made any new friends since moving to Korea, and I’ve been here nearly six months. I don’t mind; I’m fantastically self-sufficient, and I’ve been having a blast since I’ve been here (and I did already have one friend living in Korea when I arrived, so it’s not like I’m all alone or anything). I would like to have more people in my life, but the thought of trying to go out and round up new friends is, honestly, frightening to me.
