Brought to you by the Number 13.

Paraskevidekatriaphobics is the term used to describe those who have a fear of 'Friday the 13th'. Some will agree this day is stricken with bad luck and that the number itself spells misfortunes. A superstition that started in the early 1900s and somehow stretched itself to this day.

Although i don't consider myself THAT superstitious, i will take note if an office block or apartment building has no Level 13. And should there be a Friday the 13th i will be more aware of my actions and be slightly more cautious, maybe it's out of habit.

Here's a story for you:
Maybe it's because back when i was 11 or 12 years old some drama unfolded and some how associate bad timing/luck to this fateful day. A time when school dances was at its' height of excitement in my life and that theme parties was an excuse to go shopping. A stage when girls would tower over the boys because the guys hadn't gone through their growth spurt yet.

Yes, once upon a time i wasn't considered that short for my age.

The idea of a slow dance was a couple standing face to face slowly rotating like a kebab stand and rocking side to side to the beat of the music. It was where the popular girls would be constantly on the dance floor and eager boys would have to take turns to dance with the 'it' girl.

Back then i was very shy, one would say unnoticed. Not considered the popular one but more like a sheep that hung around girls that made the boys drool because they were able to fill a cup size. But i remember sitting with my back against the wall watching my 'friend' play fight with another boy because she was playing hard to get [when in reality, i know she was just flirting and liked the attention].

Both creatures beautiful [in my eyes] and projected a confidence that i only dreamed of. And within a few seconds of looking up in anticipation whether she would agree to a slow dance, my night had ended prematurely.

My friend had leaned against the huge glass framed world map that hung above my head and it slid down at least 4 feet and landed edge first on the pinnacle of my coconut head!

At the time it wasn't so much the pain but the embarrassment of having everyone crowd around me while i sat motionless. Then to have the head teacher inform my parents and whisk me away to the hospital with an ice pack fused to my head because i had grown an instant lump [imagine a cartoon character but the only thing missing were birds flying in unison] and then to have my skull scanned to check for any damage.

Perhaps it was a coincidence that fate had led me to the wrong place at the wrong time. Or it could be that i was in fact struck with incredible bad luck and is an example of what 'Friday the 13th' can do.

But one could look at it from another perspective which served as a warning that i shouldn't shy away and spend the whole night sitting on my lazy arse.

Hmmm... words of wisdom for the start of yet another one of my no-expectations or planned weekends.