Show Me Those Aliens!


Well, the Day of Invasion of Area 51 is finally over.

Out of the one (or two, depending on which news report you read) million people who threatened to show up and storm our not-so-secret military base in Groom Lake, Nevada, only a mere 100 (or couple dozen or handful, depending on which news report you read) showed up. 

There was reportedly one die hard explorer who ran behind a reporter in the “Naruto run”, a weird run inspired by Naruto Uzumaki, a Japanese manga character who runs with his head down and arms stretched behind him.

There was AlienStock in downtown Las Vegas and, at this posting, an alternative — the original — Alienstock in Rachel, NV. There was no invasion of Area 51, a couple of arrests, and relieved maintenance workers, secretaries, and Air Force generals standing guard inside the compound itself.

All the hoopla because of the search for alien life.

I cannot help but be amused at the explosion of interest about just what’s being hidden at a secured site way out in the desert. It sounded like a blast — people dressed up as aliens, tin foil hats, signs and spaceships and, I’m sure, plenty of alcohol and other “enhancements.”

I can just imagine what would have happened if the visitors DID find a few aliens buried behind the barbed wire.

Personally, I don’t think human beings can comprehend what an alien would really look like. Be like.

Some one — some thing — travels millions of miles just to check us out — what for? Any life that has developed outside our solar system would be based on a totally different cosmic scale. 

We can only imagine alien life based on our own interpretation of life. Our own carbon-based DNA. Their makeup, their world, their philosophies would be so different to us as to not be understood.

Maybe that’s why some think there are beings being hidden in the depths and darkness of Area 51. 

We are all fascinated by things we don’t understand. Face it. Don’t you love wondering how magicians do what they do? How lightning happens? How every snowflake can be different? How the human body really works?

We all know there are real physical explanations for most everything. That everything magical has its mundane side. We are fascinated by things we can’t see, things we will never see. Ghosts, galaxies, the inside of an atom. It’s just not possible. Not in this lifetime.

But we can dream. We can imagine. We can pretend. And we can believe.

We can wear tin foil hats and demand the government tell us all its secrets. We can dream of aliens visiting us or dinosaurs roaming through our backyards. 

That’s what’s beautiful about being human. That’s the blessing, the gift, of our humanness. To imagine there will always be more to learn. To see. To experience.

And how lucky we are to have a video of dozens of people practicing the Naruto Run just in case they decide to break down the fence at Area 51 and dodge the bullets and machine gun fire and bust down doors and run down ten flights of stairs just to see those aliens.

 

 

 

Binging in the Dark

We all have our guilty pleasures…dark chocolate parfaits with whipped cream, bubble baths and massages, a third helping of Thanksgiving stuffing.

As the cold wavers into the early evening and night, I am enjoying my own guilty pleasure…binge watching.

Come on — don’t tell me that you haven’t watched the same movie two or three weeks in a row. I remember when A Hard Day’s Night with my forever loves the Beatles came to the theater — I watched it three times a day, Saturday and Sunday, two weeks in a row.

Now that’s binging.

I’m quite a bit older than that innocent girl of yore, but I still enjoy watching episode after episode. A bathroom break or cookie break is all I allow when I’m caught up in love triangles and alien invasions and different factions fighting for the Throne of Swords.

I get in these — moods is too soft a term — spells is more like it — where all I want to do is see what happens next. I’ll watch one episode of Stranger Things and find myself saying “one more episode” then “one more episode” until its 1 a.m. and I’ve watched the whole series. Or Game of Thrones. I mean, how can I not find out who captured who? Who stabbed who? Who fooled around with who? The next episode just might tell me!

I look at it as visual books. Okay, so the texts aren’t as deep, as verbose, as a book. But there is character development (what about the shadow monster in the young boy?) There is romance (will Jon Stark and Daenerys ever get together?) There is mystery (is Redington Liz’s father?) There’s enough to keep me awake for hours!

I suppose I really should be writing or cleaning, but I am convinced I am learning something by binging on my favorite movies/TV shows. I have learned so many things…like don’t feed a creature that looks like a slug because it’s probably an alien; don’t walk into dark tunnels; don’t become involved with a Dothraki, and don’t be the first to have sex in a horror movie.

These are things that I might need on future quests. Future stories. Future time travels. You know — all those things us senile old women do in our spare time.

I tell you — it sure beats the hell out of the 9-5 gig….

 

 

Oh Euglena … Come Out and Play …

euglena2The other day I blogged about the light-bulbs-growing-on-grass-thing. Inspiration, getting the growth going and all. Then I had the day from Hades — personal flubs, everything from losing my debit card to a momentary lapse of memory to indigestion. I wondered how I would ever live up to the growing thing. The writing thing. The inspiration thing.

Then I found my little notebook that had the plot line of my second novel scribbled in multi colors.  It’s like someone really did turn the light bulbs on the grass on. A plot! A direction! Ideas! I remember looking fondly, wistfully, at the little 3 x 5 thing, not really interested in my character’s continued adventures in Tinaria.  But now — here it was. Waving. Calling. Teasing.

What made this adventure even sweeter, though, was that I overcame my “do not share” mentality and actually asked for advice for my story. I was stuck on a premise I started in my first novel, and had no idea how to manifest an explanation in the second. So I talked to my good friend Cal The Science Guy about colors and blood and time travel. I actually told him about my story idea and asked for a feasible way around my blockage. I was able to get an educated — and fun — opinion about my work and my ideas.

The point of this evening’s conversation is that I learned to share my work. Not hide it. I always wanted to make sure my writing was perfect before I shared it with anyone.  Like, if I didn’t tell them about it ahead of time they would like it better. All the grammar hadt o be perfect; the conversations, the encounters, all had to be smoothly  orchestrated. If I was stuck, so what. I just changed ideas. All because I wanted to “surprise” my reader.

You would think at my age I would know better. The best kept secrets are nothing but secrets. Who cares about the stories you’re not telling anyone? Publication is a a fleeting thought; a dream, possible in some spheres of reality, impossible in others. Winning first place in an art show or  graphic competition just as nebulous. What matters is NOT keeping these things a secret. No matter if you are a painter, a jewelry maker, or a writer. If you are stuck, ask someone. It’s not like they’re going to take your idea, or laugh at your idea, or tell everyone your idea.

We all get stuck in life. Some landmines can’t be helped. It’s life. But not sharing your stories, your poems, your creativity because you are afraid someone might not like it? Pfffttt….what does that matter? Did you like making that necklace? Did you enjoy stenciling that room? That’s what it’s all about. Need a little boost, a little clarification? Don’t be afraid to share your creation with someone. Everyone needs help now and then. I mean, even Van Gogh painted side by side with Gauguin.

OK, Cal…about this alien/time travel/gladiator  thing….

Sneaky Little Spammies

trash can, opened, top at sideAs I prepare for my next blog, I keep getting informational e-mails that someone has commented on my blog, which excites me, until I find out it’s some totally different subject they’re talking about to some totally different person. And I realize…yep. The Sneaker Spammer has snuck through my door.

I am way over trusting when it comes to things in this world — you tell me the sky is blue, I believe the sky is blue. You tell me you saw an alien spaceship land in your back yard, I believe an alien spaceship landed in your yard. I also believed my spammy guard was smart enough to cut out things other than Chinese or Arabic.

Guess not.

So I have dropped to the moronic level of Spammies everywhere, and will begin moderating the comments. I love free speech and all, but I love privacy, too.

New blog coming soon — feel free to comment on it — and I’ll be sure to let you through!