Pleasure Bouquets: Aliens

Aliens

Sometimes I feel like an alien in my own skin. I look down at my body and I am shocked by what I see. Where did that roll come from, or that bruise, or that wrinkle? At other times, I feel like an alien in the world. Particularly when events don’t make sense. Take today, for instance. Today is one of those days when the world simply doesn’t make sense, and I feel like – gee, I’d like to go home now.

I woke up early, in a good mood. Then I checked my email and realized I was supposed to meet with someone. I had completely forgotten. How lucky, I thought, that I happened to turn on my phone before I left the house. I don’t usually do that on a Sunday morning. The world works in mysterious ways.

Later, I was hanging out with my girlfriends and noticed that one of them was particularly emotion. She’s frequently emotional, so I blithely dismissed any significance to this particular bout of heightened feelings. Just as my brain bounced to some other topic, my friend opened her mouth and announced she’s just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Shit. The world is fucked up.

Wait, though. I know plenty of breast cancer survivors. I’ve done the Revlon Walk. I have a few pink ribbons stuck in some drawer somewhere. This is a surmountable obstacle that she faces, that many women face. This is just part of the human condition, right? Thanks, Universe, for the reminder about the fragility of human life. Got it. Let’s move on.

But, no. Not today. Remember, today’s one of those days I get to wish I was an alien.

On my way home from brunch, I made phone calls, spontaneously dialing up friends I haven’t spoken to since before I left for Ireland (yes, I’ll fill you in on my trip at a later date). When Red – I’m gonna go the anonymous route on this one, guys, bear with me – answered the phone, I was surprised, as was she. She’d been about to call me. Don’t you just love it when the world works that way? In this particularly case, not especially. She was about to call me because her cousin and my dear friend, Sunshine, had just been admitted to the hospital. Sunshine’s heart stopped this morning. The doctors got her back. And then she died.

This, you see, is why I need to be an alien. Because that little sentence in the previous paragraph makes no fucking sense. Sunshine is just that – she isn’t just a ray of light, she’s the whole damn star. She’s the kind of person who brings joy to everything she does. She isn’t just a “glass half full” kind of gal, she’s the “oh, look, this glass is overflowing – I’m thirsty – yum, this water is great – here’s a refill” kind of gal. She doesn’t die. She’s not done yet. And any world where it’s decided that she’s done is a fucked up place to be. It makes not one iota of sense.

So, I feel like an alien today. Just beam me back to wherever it is I come from, where shit makes sense. Because I have plans for another beer and belly laugh with Sunshine, if you don’t mind.

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