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There's something about fear that's intoxicating. It's that rush of adrenaline that surges through your veins. It's that moment you catch your breath as your heart seems to stop, just for a split second as terror becomes overwhelming and threatens to engulf you.

It's why thousands flock to roller coasters, horror movies and any other crazy thing that can get the juices pumping. Bungee jumping and sky diving are both high draws for the thrill seeker. After all, it's not the view that encourages you to plummet through the air.

As Halloween closes in on us, opportunities to get scared are waiting just around the corner, everywhere you look. I'm still learning to like getting the poo scared out of me, though.

Take horror movies for instance. I've never been a big fan of scary movies. I've always been a wuss when it comes to creepiness in movies. I'm fairly certain I was in third grade before I ever watched "The Wizard of Oz" all the way through. I was cool with the flying monkies, but that Wicked Witch was another thing.

It didn't seem to get much easier as I got older. Generally, the only time I could be enticed to watch a scary movie was if there a cute boy I liked involved. For instance, when I was in college, this guy convinced me to watch "Halloween" and "Halloween II." We only made it through part of the second flick, but I saw enough of both to be completely creeped out by both Michael Myers and the movie's chilling theme song.

And my BFF loves a good horror movie. OK, sometimes she'll watch it even if it's not that good. She and I share a lot of interests but movies and men are generally not among them. I let her and some friend talk me into watching Rob Zombie's "The Devil's Rejects" and ended up having nightmares in which a crazy sheriff was stapling photos to my head. I woke up checking for puncture wounds.

So no, unless there's a nice payoff at the end and a cuddly guy to squeeze at opportune moments, the horror movie craze is lost on me. I can enjoy a good thriller but please keep the severed body parts, blood splurts and chainsaw-wielding maniacs to yourself, unless you're tall, dark and handsome and are willing to be grabbed.

I'm not sure even Mr. Dreamy could talk me into skydiving or bungee jumping though. Maybe a roller coaster, but he'd have to be really pretty for that one to happen.

I know at this point, gentle readers, that I sound like a complete wuss. And you're partially right. In my almost 28 years, I've lived a very safe lifestyle. I don't take a lot of risks, and I'm definitely not an adrenaline junkie. I don't trust roller coasters, as there's always a part of me that feels that flying through the air and plummeting down tracks just doesn't seem like the safest thing in the world. Same goes for skydiving and bungee jumping. It's all fun and games until your cord breaks or your parachute doesn't open.

But this Halloween, I'm letting my hair down a little. I had my first flu shot ever a couple of weeks ago -- yes, I'm terrified of needles, too. But more importantly, I went to a haunted house over in Knoxville.

Before you jump to the same conclusion everyone else did, no, there weren't real ghosts. It was a staged haunted house where people are paid to jump and scare the poo out of you.

Side note: I will admit that a few years ago I went ghost hunting with some friends in a Sweetwater cemetary. No, I didn't end up face to face with Casper but we did land a nice recording of Mr. Ghost trying to have a conversation with me. Talk about creepy.

But I digress. The BFF and some other friends had been talking about going to a haunted house for a while, and I finally agreed ... on the condition that I would have someone to hold to the entire time. As with horror movies, I've never been a big fan of paying to be scared. I work hard for my money, and if I want to be scared, I can just look at my bank account balance.

The BFF isn't exactly fond of haunted houses either, but her excitement to go wasn't so much based on being scared but overcoming a fear. She was prepared to look at fear (in the form of a haunted house in this case) and say "You're not going to control me." Now me, on the other hand ... I was prepared to let my fear dominate me and call it "Sir."

But I let them talk me into it, so the very weekend after I got the shot, I went to a haunted house with my friends. They say that if you go into a haunted house with the intention of not being scared, you're likely to get your wish. I tried my damnedest but I never quite mustered up that attitude. But I didn't want to be the girl that the ghouls and goblins saw as an easy target, either.

I kept a grip on the BFF and her friend Brian for almost the entire haunted house, only switching off once or twice when I lost a grip of BFF's hand and had to grab someone else.

Overall, the experience wasn't really that bad. Of course, when some costumed figure jumped out at me, poor Brian and whoever had the other hand were slammed into walls as I screamed and tried to get away. I even threw my friend Kylie into an actor preparing to jump out from behind us. I meant to ask if they were bruised or marked up the next day.

So yeah, I had a good laugh after being scared badly. And yes, I did dominate my fear for at least one night. I suppose it's true that the best thing to do is look fear in the face, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to hit every haunted house, watch horror movies or go skydiving anytime soon.

One step at a time after all ...

Amanda Greever is assistant managing editor for print at The Daily Times and is filling in for the vacationing Steve Wildsmith. She writes a weekly column in Women's Times. She can be reached at 981-1163 or amanda.greever@thedailytimes.com. Check out her blog, greever.blountblogs.com, or follow her on Twitter: www.twitter.com/agreever_editor.