Tonight I was working on some things and had Bravo’s “100 Scariest Movie Moments” running in the background. I’ve seen this show probably three or four times, but as a movie buff it really never gets old.

As you might have noticed from my film journal of the last few years, I’ve watched a lot of horror films in my time. Most of my horror viewing has been done in the last 15 years or so, as I wasn’t allowed to watch such films growing up. I was never really upset with my parents for putting this restriction on me, as I knew I had a pretty active imagination and would have spent countless nights lying awake worrying if a man in a hockey mask was going to come out of the closet with a machete. Of course there were films I’d seen at friends’ houses – most notably at my buddy Jeremy’s because his parents didn’t care what we watched – but I didn’t really start watching horror movies until I got serious about film in college.

Up until the last few years, horror films didn’t really have too much of an impact on me. I could watch the most graphically violent film you can imagine and be able to slough it off as make-believe. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Suspiria, even the new breed of “torture porn” like the Saw series had no effect. In fact, I found I was mainly analyzing them for their social context moreso than as a true horror story.

But once Andrea and I got our own apartment, for whatever reason, I’ve been a little leery about horror films. Now they can get to me. Now I sometimes have a hard time falling asleep after a particularly effective film. Why, I’m not quite sure. Maybe these films are reaching into a zeitgeist I wasn’t aware I was a part of and they’re doing exactly what they’re meant to do – scare the shit out of me.

For example, the film “High Tension” ( or “Haute tension” if you prefer the original French title [or "Switchblade Romance" if you prefer the UK title]) is a film that deals with a situation that is entirely possible in the world I grew up in. A stranger comes to the door of a country farmhouse in the middle of the night. The father wakes up to see what’s going on and the stranger brutally murders him before heading upstairs to off the mother. Their daughter is kidnapped by the madman and her girl-friend who is visiting, hitches a ride in the psycho’s strange little truck in an attempt to save her friend.

The whole home invasion thing has me completely spooked right now. I double-check our deadbolt every night before I go to bed. When I first lie down at night, I just listen for a while to see if anything is out of the ordinary. If something is, I’ll often get up and look around a little. If for some reason we don’t have our fan going that night, every little sound that is normally drowned out is cause for alarm. And then my imagination kicks in and things get even worse. I always picture someone standing over us while we’re lying in bed completely unaware, completely vulnerable. Eventually, though, I’m able to force myself to sleep; to let go of my paranoid nightmares. Some nights it’s easier than others.

I think these fears have become more prevalent because, for the first time in my life, I have so much to lose. If while I was single, someone broke into Monte’s house, it would just be me who would have to face whatever the person had in mind. Now, though, I want to protect Andrea and our unborn daughter. God, this whole paranoia is only going to be worse once Harper gets here, I’m sure. As the man of the house I feel like it’s my responsibility to do something – anything – to protect those I love.

Unfortunately, the bogeyman does exist in real-life and he very rarely wears a hockey mask. Just flip on the news or read the paper and you’ll hear horrific stories of madmen like the BTK Killer; the woman who was recently convicted in Missouri for killing a pregnant woman, taking the baby and trying to pass it off as her own (link); or a woman who was attacked and raped in her own home, right here in St. Louis today (link).

How can one expect to feel safe in the world?

Do we bury our head in the sand and avoid any and all news of the horrible crimes we perpetrate on one another? Sure, these things have gone on forever and, in fact, there’s quite a bit of evidence to show that they have been steadily decreasing since the mid-90′s. But I don’t care about the statistics. I only care about my family.

Is a gun the answer? Only if the idiot breaking in makes enough noise to wake me up and give me time to get both the gun and the ammo (which would obviously be stored in a separate place for safety’s sake), and I’m not a nervous, trigger-happy wreck that would wind up shooting a cat or a TV in the process.

Do you move to the country where there are fewer people, thus fewer instances of crime? Or do you stay where there are people so you have protection in numbers?

The thing is, it’s not like I live in South Africa where the crime rate is astronomical. I live in a pretty decent, middle-income condo, in a very suburban area. There aren’t bullets whizzing past my head at all hours of the day and I have no problem sitting outside on a nice evening and smoking a cigar. We live in a safe place, but it seems like all it takes to make a place unsafe is someone with a motive to make it so.

Is there a way to feel safe? To protect our families? I don’t think there is. I think the best we can do is be smart. We need to use the security measures we have in place and look for ways to improve upon those measures whenever possible.

But that brings me back to the real question – Is there even a bogeyman to be afraid of? Or am I overreacting?

I hope I never have to find out.

I’ve been really burned out this week. It’s been a busy week – even more so than usual – so maybe that’s why I’m just not feeling it lately.

I have to say, one thing that’s been crossing my mind a lot over the last few days, is that I really don’t think about going to work anymore. I never really feel one way or the other. I’m just a robot who gets up, goes through his normal routine, and the first time I really even think is when I’m riding the elevator to my office. It’s usually then that I say to myself, “I wonder what today’s gonna be like.” or, more than likely, “Ugh. I don’t wanna be here.”

I know a big part of my burn out has been what I’ve been working on this week. Our department, aside from doing maps, also does quite a bit of custom database programming. Lately, our database guys have been working on a huge program for our citizen complaint reps to help them track phone calls. They’ve put up a v1.0 and it’s been my task to create a tutorial on how to use it. Normally I’m all about doing these things, but for some reason this one has been especially trying.

It’s a pretty complicated program with a lot of buttons to push, drop-down menus to select from, and indicators showing if a call is Open, Closed, needs to be reassigned, etc. So it’s been a lot of screen shots to Photoshop, going back and forth between the call center program and MS Publisher, and having to ask a lot of questions of the developers. And I think the frustration in knowing that this is just v1.0 and I’m going to have to go back and essentially recreate this thing soon, has made it less-than inspiring to work on.

But, work on it I have and I should be finishing it up today (as soon as I’m done taking this brief break to vent a little). Then I have to hand it over to my boss who will have some changes for me, which is fine and completely understandable. It’s just not been exactly what I’ve wanted to do this week, ya know? Then again, they don’t pay me to do whatever I want, either.

But if I could find a way to make a living surfing the web, watching movies, and sleeping, that’s one job I’d never get burned out on. Until that day, however, I’ll just have to find a way to keep going with the eternal hope that “maybe next week will be better.”

There’s a fascinating web page on Australia’s Herald Sun newspaper website with a test to see if you’re right- or left-brained.

Check it out here. (Be sure you’ve taken your Dramamine)

Pretty amazing, huh? I’m apparently right-brained as I had a heck of a time getting her to go counter-clockwise at first. I’ve gotten to the point now, though, I can make her switch directions almost at will by looking in the opposite brain hemisphere. No, seriously.

If you want to access the right side of your brain (making her spin clockwise), you can look up and to the right and this will help make her go in that direction. Cops use this to see if someone’s lying because the body language shows that they’re accessing their creative side so they can tell a better lie. And if you want her to go counter-clockwise, you should look up and to the left to access your logical side. Give it a try!

Yesterday, Andrea sent me some photos of one of her favorite customer’s kid, who is playing Pop Warner football. He’s apparently quite the little athlete and the pictures seem to show that.

Last night I dreamt that I was playing football again, just like in high school. I was the center (in real life and in the dream), so it was my responsibility to get everyone huddled up, as well, of course, to snap the ball on the right count. It was so awesome to be playing again, even if only in my mind.

We were playing someone – probably Gibson City or Paxton – and it was such a typical run for my team at the time. We had one good play, then another. Third down we completed a pass and got fifteen yards out of it or something. First down was just a yard or two gain. Second down – disaster. Illegal movement or holding or something that forced us back. Then we’d have a decent gain, only to have someone drop a pass on the next down. It went like this for a while, again, just like real life when I was 17. Still, though, despite all the frustration, I loved it. I woke up pretty happy that I’d gotten the chance to feel that rush again.

I don’t remember my dreams often, but I’m really happy I remembered this one. Football was a huge thing for me in high school. Basically everything I did all year long – wrestling, weightlifting – was meant to help me be a better football player the next year. Of course I was never that good, but the passion was there. It’s still the only thing I miss about high school. It had such a huge impact on me that I couldn’t even watch the NFL for a good six or seven years after I graduated because all I wanted was to be back out on the gridiron.

Sadly, right as I was preparing to snap the ball into the waiting hands of the quarterback, Rufus started batting something around in the opposite corner of the room. I was snapped back to reality instead, but at least the feeling of being on the field has stayed with me for a little while this morning. As time marches on, maybe that’s all you can ask for.

I just realized that I never posted the pictures from our 48-Hour Film shoot, Cubicles & Co-Workers! I know I had to wait until after the screening of the film, but it completely slipped my mind.

So, here ya go!

And, yes, Steve shaved his head for the production.