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home made superstitions

I saw Friday the 13th when it opened in the movies theaters on, yes, a Friday the 13th. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was in June. You know, just in time for camp season.

f13.gifSo here it is, another Friday, June 13th and every morning show on television and radio will be talking about superstitions and bad luck and all the things that can befall you on this most unfortunate of dates.

I was never one for superstitions, except for the "step on a crack, break your mother's back," and that was more about fear of my mother's wrath than anything else.

I'm not afraid of black cats crossing my path and walking under a ladder doesn't bother me. Superstitions are all about cause and effect; if you do this, that will happen, and I could never see the causal relationship between breaking a mirror and having crappy things happen to you for x number of years.

Perhaps if superstitions were based more on reality I might be inclined to believe them. Toss a baby in the air a few times and he will eventually puke on you, so remember, it's bad luck to toss a baby in the air! No, I guess that doesn't hold the same power as if a bird flies into your house, it's a sign of impending death.

Ok, so I do have a couple of superstitions, but they are of the home-made variety, borne of some ridiculous, deep-rooted fear of my own making.

I used to close my eyes when driving over a bridge. This worked well when I was a passenger. As a driver, it causes all sorts of problems. The only reason I close my eyes is because I'm afraid of the water and if I look at the water, then it will know I'm afraid and it will use it's mystical magnetic pull to drag my car towards its great, gaping mouth, swallowing the bridge, the cars and all the people whole. So, as you can see, it's easier to just not look at the water and closing your eyes tight is really the best way to do that.

Another one of my home-grown superstitions is don't look in the bathroom mirror after you've already been asleep and you've gotten up to pee. See, I watched this show once when I was younger. It must have been Night Gallery or another anthology horror/sci-fi show like that. In one episode, a woman gets up during the night to go to the bathroom. When she looks in the mirror, it's not her image she sees, but that of a woman from the Revolutionary War. Or it might have been the Civil War, I really don't remember. Either way, this chick was seeing ghosts in her mirror instead of her own haggard 3am reflection, and while that may actually be a good thing for some people (wow, I never looked so *hic* good in the middle of the *hic* night!), it was a terrifying thought for me.

So, of course the next night I got up to go to the bathroom and not only did I see a war taking place in the background of my mirror image, where the towel rack should have been, but I saw myself, dressed in the garb of whatever century I was hallucinating, and I was talking to me! I clearly remember running into my parent's room shouting "My reflection is doing something different than me!" And I clearly remember my mother telling me to shut up and go back to bed.

I started carrying a flashlight to the bathroom with me at night, so I didn't have to turn on the lights and see myself looking like Scarlet O'Hara. So that was another home made superstition; Don't look in the bathroom mirror at 3am.

It's only a date, right? It's just the way the dice rolls on this calendar of our that this Friday happens to be the 13th day of the month.

Except I woke up late today, the alarm clock having fallen between the cushions of the love seat in my bedroom, its beep-beep-beep muffled. And then there was no coffee. Clean out of coffee, the horror! And I've got these mind-numbing cramps. And it's pouring, yet again and I left my car window slightly open last night. Chalk this stuff up to stupidity and nature.

Or, perhaps, the onus of Friday the 13th?

Comments

I'm not superstitious at all, although for some strange reason I (really) avoid stepping on cracks at all costs. I don't know why.

Oh, and this so-called "love seat" in your bedroom. Does it hang from the ceiling? Those are so cool!

I'm only superstitious when it comes to hockey. Gotta wear the same jersey (until we lose, then I switch), don't go to the bathroom until we have the lead, same socks, no reading any sports news until after the game, etc.

And I'm going away this weekend. To the family vacation home. In the woods. By a lake. I should be okay if I don't drink or have sex (horror movie rules). Uh, yeah right....well at least there'll be no sex, that's the big offense, right?

But Friday the 13th is always a good day for me. (*repeats to herself three times while spinning counter-clockwise then hopping on one foot ten times...)

I don't think it's Friday the 13th. I think Mr. Lileks counter-cursed you...

I've never had anything particularly bad happen to me on Friday the 13th.
Of course, that may just mean that the powers that be are slyly lulling me into a false sense of security...

I've had good experiences with Friday the 13ths, but Fridays in general are usally pretty damn good. I'm not superstitious, but I really like the Stevie Wonder song of the same name. When I dress for hockey games (with my number 13 jersey) the only iron clad dressing rule I follow is jock strap BEFORE hockey pants, otherwise I look like a wierd superhero.

I pick up every heads-up penny I see. And if it's tails-up, I turn it over so the next person who comes along will have some good luck.

D

Walking under a ladder is bad luck. Especially if there's someone on it painting. More especially if that person has a mean streak. That's all I'm saying.

It didn't even occur to me until I read this that it WAS Friday the 13th.

I have to go for my first non-training shift at my new job in the rapid nutrition industry tonight. an 8 hour shift, stretching over the dinner rush and well into the wee morning hours.

i don't even remember how to work all the 50 or so buttons on the cash register. oy. with my luck, someone is gonna stumble in at 1 am in a drunken stupor, burn their tongue on their McChicken, and beat the crap out of me.