What creeps you out?

Hasn't your mother ever taught you it's rude to stare? Well, apparently not. One thing that creeps me out the most is strangers who stare at you on public transit. Then when you make even a split second of eye contact, they smile. If there's the slightest hint of friendly gesture behind their smile, I'm not seeing it. Perhaps I just caught their eyes at just the wrong moment, but the chances of that are slim. From my peripheral vision, I see them staring, I can feel their eyes looking straight into my direction. I dare not test whether what I'm seeing out the corners of my eyes is true or not for the fear of being right. It just creeps me out.

In a recent survey, Canadians were ranked the heaviest Internet-users in the world. By a wide margin too, beating out second place United States by a staggering 8 hours for a monthly total of 43.5 hours.

Our Internet speeds, unfortunately, are unworthy of our reputation as Internet-using heavy weights. Our country’s download speeds average at around 9.5 mbps, which is a adequate number for (slowly) streaming HD videos on YouTube but not ideal for super-fast movie downloads from iTunes. When compared South Korea’s blazing 35 mbps, Canada becomes a little red in the face.

I become a little red in the face, too, especially when the Internet speed is so slow that it could be running backwards without an apparent difference. Often, I sit at the public library, grinding my teeth away with dozens of other frustrated Internet users, as Facebook pages load, one statues update at a time. The strained router (a top of the line model ten years ago) sits, juggling microbytes of data at atrocious speeds, and the diabolical service providers (Telus and Shaw, I’m talking to you) laugh as they throttle the Internet speeds a hair above zero.

I sit there, grinding through half my front molars, and I consider why Canadians spend the most time on the Internet. The answer hits me: we have to wait the most for our websites too load, too!

Lady GaGa, seriously, i have nightmares each time i spot a picture of her in a magazine.

The concept of fame has no doubt been such a fascinating subject for humans alike. Fame is - or once should have been - the byproduct of incredible willpower, self discipline and dedication. But as technology advances in an exponential rate today, the exposure of private and corporate owned media is virtually limitless; along with a few musical grains of virtual talent discovered in a wheat field and the occasional C list celebrity scandal, this sudden accessible outlet has also brought about the disturbing side of fame. Take the tragic case of the Pitt Meadows rave, for example; it truly takes a group of disturbed individuals (in my opinion) to post up pictures as such and still bask in their own sickened exposure. All across the Internet there never ceased to be any individual who wants the fame but not the hard work that is accompanied by it, the ones that will put the darker side of humanity on display for the sheer shock value. The Andy Warhol prediction. The dysfunctional side of media and exposure - and the sheer accessibility of it all. This is what truly creeps me.

The ecstatic rush of adrenaline, the boggling dizziness of the mind, and the painfully powerful pounding of the heart –all of these sensations are evidence of one making an instantaneous decision based on the loss of self-control. Whether it may be to devour that chocolate cake sitting on the table, throwing all memories that bring back hurtful feelings into a roaring fire, or picking up a gun to shoot at the minute's enemy, losing control is never something one wants to occupy their body. And still, this phenomenon continues to insist itself into your soul during unforgivable situations.
This creeps me out because it introduces me to various crimes that I never thought myself capable of doing. It is like watching the kitchen tap swallow water rather than release the liquid, and then wondering how such a thing ever came to be. Yet at that moment, your whole body is dedicated to the decision that your mind has spontaneously chosen to take, and you find yourself released of any rational thinking. The windows are so open and welcoming, suggesting you to take paths you've never even considered, and freedom without consequence is all you know. But in the end, the aftermath forces you to open your eyes, and the consequences are, indeed, existent. The cake will need a replacement, the memories will cease to physically dwell, and the life that is taken will never come back the same.

8 eyes, 8 legs. Those creepy things called spiders are everywhere. Crawling in your house and your cars. They are everywhere. When you are slowly walking down the stairs, and it hits you, right in the face. A big 'ol nasty spider web. Oh, how I hate that. Then of course you have to do your slightly embarrassing dance to make sure that all of the gross, sticky stuff is off your face. Even though every time this happens my mom ensures me that they are more scared of us then we are of them, I will never get over my fear of spiders. 8 eyes, 8 legs and 2 fangs.

Submitted by agheorghe

They crawl, have 8 eyes, and have poison venom, what are they?? spiders. You always look at spider and think eww, or cool, in these cases I'm the one who would yell out spider, and would try to kill it immediately. Spiders have always been the thing that creeps me out the most. There gross, weird, and ugly. Spiders creep me out because they look funny and have small legs. Did you know that spiders can grow a leg if they lose one? I also hate how spiders can make a web it terrifies me. I'm more creeped out of small spiders then big ones. It's because you can see big ones if you lose track of them, but the littles ones are hard to spot, and I always feel like there on me. There are 30,000 species of spiders, and it can be quite painful if a spider bites you. Spiders even have fangs, which makes me think that if they bite you, you will turn into something. Even though I'm creeped out by spiders, they are the ones who are even more scared, and they wont do anything to you, unless you do something to them first.

A mysterious phenomenon, dreams. How is it that we can, by some means, unconsciously live out thoughts inside our minds? These Matrix-like stories are so brilliantly coloured and eerily accurate appeal to my most intimate thoughts, tangible and even poignantly real. Weirdly, I await the dreams like they’re treats, with excited anticipation, when I can tell they’re dreams. But the power of these sleep-stories to creep in with the rest of my memories, unidentified, sends my arm hairs into epileptic shock, and turns the sweat on my neck to ice.
Too many times than I care to recall, I’ve woken up thinking I’d had a deep, relationship-altering conversation with a friend, and been glad right through the day until break, when she gives me a sad, ignorant, show-me-how-to-help-you look. Then my gut caves in sickeningly. A warm, mauve blush flares under my collar, and I want to melt into the walls; my mind had been tricked by its own invention. I laugh it off, muttering that I must be going crazy, but anxiety swells within me at my own misperception. I couldn’t tell, again! It’s the sinister sensation of shame at my own blurring of that fundamental line between awake and dreaming, pulsing through my body, that’s so difficult for me to shake. I’ll shoulder-check my thoughts for days because of the broken trust between my brain and my heart. I’ll search wildly for anything to validate me to myself again. It’s their power to fool me; I become unnerved.

When you think of creepy things, you might be obligated to think of spiders, ghosts, the dark, or monsters.

When I think of creepy, I think of eyes. Peoples eyes, frosting over you, examining every last ounce, and peering inside of you. They look hard into the depths of curiosity, and poke around until they see YOU. The inside, your thoughts, feelings, emotions, and soul. I'm frightened of people looking, staring back at me and feeding themselves into me. The glossy tint that glazes over me, and sparkles. The passion evoked in them is seemingly never ending and powerful.

The eyes are turned on me. I've drawn them all in, wheeled in the stares, called upon the sight of all who surround me. I know that their attention span doesn't last long, so I have to keep them interested, but do I really want all those eyes stripping me of my dignity?

Don't look at me.

There I am standing the dark with only the sound of silence to listen to. Not knowing who could be there or what. This opaque reality in which all I can hear is my breath gasping out of my lungs as the frozen air rushes in. Hastily walking, trying to reach my destination, not knowing which way to go, the earth is dark, murky and the path is crooked in all directions. Now my imagination starts to run. I hear other breaths behind me, the creaking of footsteps in every direction. They have me surrounded, I don’t know which way to turn or where to look. I’m frozen. Chills cover my body as I feel the presence of someone else. I try to these feelings, but I can’t. Then the wind starts to pick up and pierces against my cheeks as if they were stung by bees. I look up and hear the rustling leaves and falling tree branches in the distance. The moonlit shadows cause me to see shapes of creatures from my childhood fears. I get this uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I try and distract myself, but it only makes it worse. I’m trying to make my way through this lush forest as quickly and discreetly as possible, forcing myself not to breathe until I’m safe at home. These feelings are imprinted in me and the anxiety keeps me from falling asleep.