Nature Can Suck It

At 3:30 this morning my night table started rattling. I had been sleeping and did not appreciate being jolted awake by anything other than Ryan Gosling carrying a Costco-size crate of coffee ice cream. Combined with the fact that I had spent the entire holiday weekend (Labor Day, for those of you not in the US) fighting off an incredibly annoying sinus infection, this was not how I had planned to end the summer of 2012. I mean, it's not like my phone was ringing off the hook anyway, but still. No, Richter scale. NO.

Growing up in New York City, I've been through a bunch of Nor'Easters and more than a few huge storms. Usually what those meant were a couple of days off from school. I remember one instance in high school where they prematurely cancelled classes due to a "hurricane warning," and then the next day turned out to be bright, sunny and like 70 degrees. It was awesome and my friends and I went to the park and hung out all day. Before moving to California, I'd become pretty desensitized to natural disasters, although I sympathized with other areas and always worried about my friends. The only time I'd really been directly affected by a "natural disaster" is when I got up every morning and looked at myself in the mirror.

I'm going to ask you nicely to stop taking pictures of me and
posting them on the internet. Thank you.

Then I moved to Los Angeles. I knew, when I relocated, that earthquakes were a Thing. That kind of freaked me out, but I had also heard that they were very infrequent. My dad had already lived in LA for a few years and had yet to experience one, so I figured I was OK. LA was never my first (or even my eighth) choice of residence, but I got offered a job here, and besides, nothing in Los Angeles is natural anyway, so I thought that maybe the only "disaster" would be like, a dye job or something. 

PS- despite what we all thought we learned from Clueless, the "Pismo Beach" event was entirely made up.

The thought of the ground vibrating and opening up under my feet absolutely fucking terrifies me. I'll admit that most of my fears are pretty irrational adorable, but when something's main characteristics also sound like the coming of the apocalypse, that's enough to make me run far the fuck away. Forever.

That was definitely one of the four signs of the apocalypse.
Earthquakes, Pestilence, Famine, and uh, Bieber.

Free-falling into a black hole of nothing isn't exactly on my bucket list, thanks. What makes it worse is that you never know when one is going to hit- earthquakes sneak up on you, like the stomach flu, or midgets. 

This fun surprise from last night is just the latest in a string of Southern California shake-ups in the last two months. Depending on which news report you read, there have been between thirty to four hundred mini-quakes, all between the magnitude of 3.0-4.5. Maybe it's because I'm so paranoid, but I've felt a lot of them, and they all scare the shit out of me. If yesterday's quake was only a 3.3, I never want to feel anything above a 5. I have no idea why there have been so many in such a short amount of time, but I don't like it, and I can't believe anybody would choose to live an area where the ground could crack open with no prior warning. 

Add this to one more reason why I've booked my flight back home. I still have to wait until my lease is up- right before Halloween- but I do get to leave, and I will never, ever, have to live in constant fear of being swallowed into the Earth ever again.