I reserve the right to write about whatever I please here. So no complaints.
Saturday, 30 April 2011
So it turns out that getting caught up in a case of people disappearing or being murdered immediately after being stalked doesn't do wonders for the psyche, especially the realisation that the person doing so is probably still at large. On top of my being worried sick almost all the time about Joey, I've become increasingly paranoid over the last few weeks. It's odd. I find myself unconsciously avoiding windows - being near them, or looking out of them - and finding excuses not to go outside, staying in the house.
Did anyone here know the etymology of the word uncanny? I mean, we use it to describe something which is just slightly off, with an emphasis on creepily so; familiar, yet at the same time, alien. And of course, canny indicates knowledge, or knowing. So the word itself means "not known", or in the modern sense, "outside of knowledge". But that's not where the word comes from. It's descended from the German word Unheimliche, which means "un-home-like", or the feeling of being "not at home", like those pictures Ms. Fisher took of her apartment. Familiar, yet not the place it once was. Off. She and her boyfriend both died in that place. It's now a burnt, blackened shell. She was right. It wasn't her home.
And that's my problem right there. I'm not at home. Paranoid, uncomfortable. Full of unease. My eyes not allowing themselves to linger on the dark places. My mental state was pretty damn fractured after finding Ms. Fisher, and I feel like I should admit that my tone on here is me actively hiding just how fucked up I still am about that. Better to keep smiling, eh? And I never smile when I'm alone anymore.
P.S. Joey's name is actually Joey. The fake name thing was a double bluff. I figure, since his name (Joseph Walker) is now a matter of public knowledge, what with all the press coverage, it can't hurt to say now.
P.P.S. I had not read House of Leaves when I wrote this! I feel kinda embarrassed...