Saturday, October 13, 2012

An extraterrestrial fear


Some people are afraid of heights. Some are afraid of spiders, snakes and creepy crawly things in general. Some are afraid of dying. Some are afraid of clowns.
Everyone has a phobia of some sort, but my biggest fear might surprise you.
I am not afraid of peanut butter sticking to the roof of my mouth (arachibutyrophobia). I am not afraid of long words (hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia). I am not afraid of beards (pogonophobia).
My fear is so specific there isn’t even a word for it. I’ll set the scene for you.
The year was 1995; most of America had been charmed by this particular character more than a decade before. I guess that’s why my mother decided to show her 4-year-old daughter this movie, though I think I would still be afraid no matter what age I saw it at.
This year marks the 30th anniversary of the 1982 story of a perfectly normal boy who becomes friends with an extraterrestrial.
My name is Maureen Quinlan and I am deathly and pathologically afraid of E.T.
If I even catch a glimpse of the wrinkly skinned alien, I react much like the 6-year-old Drew Barrymore reacted in the movie: with a blood-curdling scream.
I’m cringing just describing him. Everything about him scares me. Everything about the movie scarred me for life.
The bike flying into the sky, the hazmat suit guys, the mother, the red hoodie. I can’t even recall much else because I try to block it out of my memory.
I would never want to be friends with something that looked like that and wanted to eat my Reese’s Pieces. Get your own.
To make things worse, when I was 6, my family took me on an Orlando adventure.
I loved Mickey and Minnie Mouse. I met Cinderella. I rode the tea cups and filled my autograph book with signatures from the greats like Chip and Dale and Pluto.
But it was the trip to Universal Parks and Resort Orlando that validated my fear. There was a photo studio where visitors could take a picture in a classic scene from a movie. My mother, not realizing I was afraid of the gentle E.T., made me sit on the bike from the scene at the end of the movie with E.T. hidden in the basket.
I barely remember the trip because I am trying to forget the memory of being so close to my least favorite creature.
My next encounter was many years later. It was Halloween. I was in high school. I was dressed like Wilma Flintstone. I enjoyed seeing everyone dressed as bees, nerds and princesses.
Then one boy was dressed in an all white paint suit. As we went around the room telling others what we were dressed as, the boy pulled out a stuffed animal of E.T. small enough to fit in a side pocket on the paint suit.
He was dressed as one of the government scientists in the hazmat suits. I squirmed in my seat and waited for him to put the toy back in his pocket.
The stuffed animal was harmless, but it sure as hell scared me.  As irrational or silly as my fear is, I don’t see myself conquering it anytime soon. I’m not about to sit down and watch the movie to see if I’m still afraid. I’m not about to try and see what is so cute and innocent and harmless about E.T.
If Universal Pictures decides to release the classic tale of a friendly alien invading earth in 3D, you can guarantee I will not be anywhere within a 10-mile radius of a movie theater until it goes out of theaters again.
I know it was nominated for Best Picture. I know it has one of the best movie scores of all time. I know it is one of Steven Spielberg’s most legendary films. I know it started Drew Barrymore’s career. I know it made Reese’s Pieces a bigger seller than M&Ms that year. But you can bet I will never want E.T. to phone my home.

My 90s were all that


We all look back on our childhoods with rose-colored glasses, with 20/20 hindsight and nostalgic viewfinders. But there was something very special and unique about being a kid in the 1990s and early 2000s. Excuse me while I reminisce for the next 600 words.
While not an especially memorable decade current events-wise for me personally, there is so much I will cherish about my formative years. I was born in late 1991, giving me optimum time to enjoy 1992-2006 before I was ruined in high school.
Our generation is the first to not know what it is like to grow up without the Internet. We are the last who had to actually wait until middle or high school to get cell phones.
The style, the fads, the toys and the TV shows, shaped who I am today. I honestly don’t know who I would be without my teen idols, favorite characters and the trinkets of my past.
Angelica taught me how to be a spoiled only-child. Tommy taught me how to be a good leader. Chuckie taught me it is ok to be afraid sometimes. Phil and Lil taught me life is messy, but that’s all the fun.
Lizzie McGuire taught me that every girl feels self-conscious. Gordo taught me that every girl needs a guy best friend who falls in love with her. (I’m still working on that one.) Miranda taught me that you are replaceable. Do we even know what happened to her in those last few episodes?
“All That” taught me to appreciate the humor of sketch comedy, making “Saturday Night Live” even more enjoyable. It also showed me that true talent goes on to do great things, i.e. Kenan Thompson and Amanda Bynes. (Let’s just pretend Amanda never got a driver’s license.)
Mary-Kate and Ashley taught me how to solve a mystery in 30 minutes, throw the perfect sleepover and travel the world while getting into trouble.
Skip-Its taught me how to hop on one foot really well. Pokemon taught me a little Asian culture. Polly Pocket taught me to appreciate small toys before she got stuck up your nose. Lip Smackers taught me that every beauty product should come in 100 flavors.
Lindsay Lohan taught me so much before she fell off the deep end. She taught me that it is possible for an American to sort of pull off an English accent. She taught me that being a Mean Girl is actually really bad. She also taught me that I should never ever dye my hair blonde.
Pixar movies taught me to expect a lot of my animated movie characters. Disney princesses taught me to grow my hair long, hang out in nature and find my one true love. (Still working on that one too, since I live in a city and am not the daughter of a king.)
AIM taught me the art of flirty conversation not conducted face to face. It taught me how to socialize on the computer before “social media” was even a phrase. It taught me the importance of a username and an away message.
The Spice Girls taught me that if someone wants to be my lover, he’s “gotta get with my friends.” Britney Spears taught me choreographed dances and how to lip sync. N’Sync and the Backstreet Boys taught me to appreciate a good boy band, making my love for One Direction bigger than it probably should be.
Lisa Frank taught me that it’s all in the accessories, the colors and design. She also taught me that you can’t go wrong with a folder covered in purple and pink tigers.
Junie B. Jones and Captain Underpants taught me how to have a sense of humor. They taught me how to read and how to fall into a fictional world.
Every picture of my childhood clothing choices has taught me that I will probably always regret the style of the past. But I was looking fantastic in my Little Mermaid sweatshirt, bandana and Jellies at the time.
Looking back, my childhood was pretty happy. I certainly can’t complain that I got to grow up in one of the best decades for kids. Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, 90s pop music and the primitive days of slow computers and no cell phones gave me more than any future generation will have the privilege of knowing.
Above all, these things taught me how to love life.