Fiction is deceptive

So I have been watching a lot of Buffy: the Vampire Slayer. It’s awesome and I have no regrets about dedicating the vast majority of my time watching it or thinking about it. However, there is one problem about watching so much Buffy: the Vampire Slayer. It has deceived me into thinking that I am as powerful as Buffy, the Vampire Slayer (I got rid of the colon because I am no longer talking about the show, I am know referencing the Character and her title, her title being the Vampire Slayer or as her friends and enemies call her ‘the slayer’). Not powerful in the sense that I can deal with the undead on a nightly basis, whilst sorting out personal issues which range from a family member’s illness, to my lesbian friend going all kookoo-bananas after her girlfriend was shot by a misogynistic, robotic engineering genius. More powerful in the sense that I think I can walk in a dark alley without anyone being able to harm me. For if they touch me Buffy Anne Summers, and the Scoobie Gang will come to my rescue and carry me away from all that unpleasantness.

This is not a healthy thing.

Though sometimes I am relatively lucid and realize that Buffy, the slayer and her Scooby Gang can’t be everywhere at once. Previously when I was home alone I would always carry a big, scary butcher’s knife with me everywhere. I do not carry a scary, big knife with me anymore. Now I carry around a wooden, mixing spoon. A spoon that’s handle was broken therefore giving it a sharp end. What I am trying to say is that I now carry around a stake, rather than a knife lest I encounter a vampire in my house. I know, I know it is absolutely ridiculous. We all know that you have to invite a vampire inside your house before they can come in and attack you, but it is better to be stake-y than sorry.