Strangely Naked

Thankfully, this is the end of my brief (albeit twisted) foray into the April A-to-Z Challenge because I have run out of synonyms for the combinations of “egotistical/depression.”  The whole idea of the A-to-Z Challenge is less a writing exercise and more an excuse for a psychological break. Trying to design 26 posts based on a single theme, crammed within a month seems like an alluring sirens call toward either half-assery or emotional issues. I tried to do it by bending the rules and I still had a disturbing experience.

If you’re just jumping in now and you’re very confused, please go back in time and read the entire series by starting here.

X-Xenu. Not kidding, I’m giving serious thought on becoming a Scientologist. Have you ever met a depressed Scientologist!?! They all seem so relentlessly upbeat. “They’re crazy, they believe aliens blah blah blah.” I know there’s some whacky crap going on, but, head-to-head, is it any whackier or creepier or more disturbing than Catholicism? Does Dianetics have something in it that tells a man that he can’t sit next to a woman on an airplane? I needs to get rid of my thetans! Nah, never mind, I’m not rich enough to go clear.

Y-Youth. I don’t know what young means. I see late 20-year-olds lamenting how old they are, but when someone dies in their 60’s, we say, “that’s too young.” To me, the young are people dictated by their emotions, nothing but a bundle of impulses bumbling their way through the day. But that definition fits a disturbing number of politicians.

Z-ZZZ. How’s your relationship with sleep? I love it, but I’m also a slave to it. Once I get sleepy, there’s no fighting it, it’s lights out. Conversely, once I wake up, there’s no going back to sleep. It’s a fickle mistress…which makes me think it’s more like a third generation dictator. You know, the son of the son of the original guy. The weird child who has grown up in isolation, completely indoctrinated by the system which has only grown more brutal and insane by the generation because he doesn’t know any different and feels like he has something to prove. That’s how sleep treats me. And all hail sleep.

There it is, the end of this Inner-Space like journey into my fragile psyche (there’s no one under 35 getting that reference).  Next time: a lot less about me, and a lot more about seducing panda bears (cliffhanger!).