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 Not a lame attempt to drum up activity in the forum. 
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Joined: Mon Nov 28, 2011 5:26 pm
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Location: Michiana
Gender: Female
Post Not a lame attempt to drum up activity in the forum. • Posted: Wed Apr 02, 2014 1:34 am
Seriously, I'm probably the #1 advocate for counting shoutbox chatter as forum activity; I just felt like writing something.

I want to clarify just why it is that I'm triskaidekaphobic (which is really for lack of a better word; I'm not actually frightened by the number thirteen, I just hate it), just because I'm bored and these are the kinds of things I ponder while I'm in the shower.

First and foremost, my synesthesia is to blame (I recently learned that it might be more accurately described as ideasthesia, but whatever; semantics are boring) which, in part, is the association of letters and numbers with colors; so when I see numbers like 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 I see them as whatever color they're written in, because I'm still receiving that signal from my eyes to my brain, but at the same time I perceive the numbers in color (white, black, green, blue, and red, respectively); compound numbers are usually a combination of the colors that represent their numbers so, for example, man-of-the-hour thirteen is this weird light-green that would look at home in schlock horror films, right alongside theremin sounds and cheap masks. However, it's not just colors that I associate with numbers (nor do I only associate colors with graphemes), but gender and personality as well, and this is the aspect of synesthesia that is key to why I find thirteen so repulsive.

Another part of my hatred comes from something that started happening around 3 years ago. I started to notice that, often, whenever I looked at a digital clock it would be the thirteenth minute of the hour. This was shortly after graduating from high school, and as I had no job at the time I had no routine that could cause me to have reason for looking at the clock at certain regular intervals. In fact, as I recently learned after having had a job that required me to look at a clock at regular intervals, having a schedule and something to busy myself with rather mitigates the occurrence. My best guess as to why this occurs has come about through constant vigilance of trying to make sure I avoid contact with the foul number; whenever I catch the clock at 12 past the hour I'll try to look away, but much like pushing an uncomfortable thought to the back of your mind only brings it to the forefront of your consciousness, I inevitably find myself staring down thirteen once the minute has passed. Some aspect of my subconscious insists that I confront this number at all times.

Which brings us back to its personality, which I won't describe in too much detail (that's just all too damning of a discussion); needless to say, he's rather unpleasant, and yes, thirteen is a he. You see, my synesthesia has lumped together, into one number, all that I despise the most.

Thirteen is the man I see when I look in the mirror.

That despicable face that follows me wherever I may try to hide; the face that, at my best, I can only shine in a positive light by making out to be a joke; the face that just doesn't belong. That disgusting body, with its gross smells, oily skin, and hair all over. That ridiculous voice which could only be at home belonging to a buffoon; it's no wonder that every word to escape his lips is an attempt at humor. That man so fueled by rage that you wouldn't believe he knew any other emotion. Whenever I see the number thirteen, I react the way I do, not because of superstition, but because of the dysphoric reminder of aspects of myself that I'd rather forget.

So yeah, there's a quick look into my silly little psyche. Like I said, I just felt like writing, so I figured I'd explain what I assume had just been waved away as a personal quirk of mine (not that it isn't a quirk, there's just a bit of reasoning behind it); it likely could've gone on without any explanation, but oh well.



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