Perception, validation. These are some heavy words to throw around. It's one of those catch 22's where one can feel like a fool either way they choose, whether they resign to the fates and the gods, or if they opt to actually pursue their own truth. Nothing hurts quite like the impossibility of being true to yourself. So, what do you do? Do you give up forever surrendering to the hand dealt you, or do you keep trying in your own way? Perception, validation... Tough words for a lonely life. Probably lonely words for a tough life, too. Just a thought. Nothing heavier than my usual thoughts. Actually, it fits like a freaking glove. I've been living in my head a lot of late. It seems I've been tending to reality barely enough to get through the day. It's a shame that these days, the thing I look forward to the most upon waking is returning to sleep's loving embrace. My aim should be "Seize the day, like a pirate ship seizing that yonder galleon full of gold doubloons, Yarrrrr!"
But, Me heart, me hearties, just ain't in it, anymore. I be gettin' tired of this voyage, me lads and lasses. There's been no fun on the high seas, no treasure to seek. There be no adventure anymore. And me gallant swashbuckling crew has not located the fountain of youth, nor the gateway to the magical land of lost and found, for both treasure and people! (And it be true, Mateys, that some people be the greatest treasure, Yaaaaar!) We try, me hearties, but despite our cool beards, cutlasses, eye patches, and the Jolly Roger proudly flyin', we have located narry a one. (Think of me what you will, but who else at least complains in Pirate Speak?)
I find myself back in this strange autopilot mode. It always seems that's when people around me try to be extra demanding, actually expect me to think on my feet. Not today, folks, not today. We'll all be a lot better off if you just leave me to my work. This is no time for a BS special occasion. I am guaranteed to disappoint. I'd just prefer to get through this day in robot mode. I'll get a lot done if they'd just let me. Talking is out of the question, too. Conversation takes just a bit more than I have today. Just think of me as a robot that does work and stuff. Beep! Beep! Leave me alone. See? Robot. These humanoid nerves are not well constructed. They frazzle easily. Robot, robot, beep beep beep! Must have caffeine. I just wasn't ready for today.. Looks like my heart decided to take a vacation because it just ain't with this day at all. Maybe I'll go looking for it when I leave here later today. I happen to know where it spends a lot of its time, where it lives, actually.
A picture of my baby sister next to a 1981 DeLorean DMC-12 surfaced in my 'memories' on a certain social media site that I've mostly been avoiding of late. However, when it comes to my sister, all bets are off. Just as Sarek Of Vulcan once said that logic fails him as far as his son is concerned, so does logic and the best made plans of mice and men fail me when it involves my baby sister. I had to respond, share, Yadda yadda Yoda... 1981 was a year that the DeLorean DMC-12 and my baby sister have in common. Anyway, I wrote that Marsha is one major reason I wish the DeLorean time machine was real. I may destroy the very fabric of time and space, but at this juncture, I don't give a damn. If I can't save the universe, I'd save the universe anyway. Why? Because she is the universe. And just like the universe, it's complicated, yet quite simple. So, with that said, when this baby hits 88 miles per hour, you're gonna see some serious shit. So, circuits warmed up, engine running, Mr. Fusion Engaged. Set time circuits to 2021.
"No time to explain, Sis. Get in the DeLorean."
"Do I look older since you last saw me?". "Yes, I probably do."
"Oh, never mind that now."
"I'm okay, I am now, that is."
"Nothing's wrong. Not anymore."
"Tears? Where we're going, we don't need tears."
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