Dawn of Time: Part I

Dawn was exploring Santa Fe, New Mexico. She had stepped into La Reina after hearing that the owner was originally from Austin, like she. The vibe was perfect: minimalist, modern design with an adobe flair, and a superbly sweet and delightful bartender.

She was contemplating existence, as a weary traveler can be known to do. There had always been a pending sense of alienation within her, even though she could pass through towns and crowds and instantly engage with her ENTJ personality leading the charge. She had thousands of friends and acquaintances from all over the globe, meeting people was genuinely natural for this lone wolf. Her own exuberance could exhaust her though, and cause need for a recharge. At times a bath and some candles could do the trick, but usually it was solved by something larger – through the exploration of the great wide globe, hours long urban hikes, people gazing, shoe gazing, exotic cuisine, and being intimately lost in a foreign language.  Long train rides alone with her thoughts for days at a time were soup for the soul, as were cave explorations with wild monkeys, and moped rides on the wrong side of the road. This is how the troubles of her world could always be solved.

The call to New Mexico wasn’t much different. Exploring, out of any comfort zone, was where she found true comfort. Not getting bogged down by the daily grind, not getting caught in the cyclical insanity of bills and obligations, not being a cog in the machine. Not knowing is what she always knew best. As she sipped her very first Mezcal and listened to the Music Brokers playlist that the bartender had discovered in Mexico and was playing for her guests this evening, Dawn kept subtly remembering the truth. The truth that had been hidden since the so called Dawn of Time. It’s the kind of truth that runs in your veins, a deep knowing that can not been denied. While she couldn’t describe it with certainty, she was, in fact, waking up.

It felt asinine to say out loud, the stuff of conspiracy theories. Luckily, others were waking up too. Soon our origins would be clear, unbeknownst to her. Dawn had often used this banter comedically, long before she understood where her jokes were coming from. Like when Conan O’Brien was on Late Night, Dawn would joke about how he was an alien but it was confusing because he was a good alien unlike most that were bad, such as many US Presidents and big time CEOs. Clearly most governments and corporations have been run by aliens for eons, which made it all the more strange that Conan wasn’t evil at all. “Just look at him! He is way too tall and pale to be a real earthling,” she would joke at the party while everyone laughed along and said things like, “oh definitely,” and ” I can totally see that!” There was just something in his eyes – he was an alien, but he was the same type of alien as she. It was one of the first times it made sense that she truly was an alien, because she too was not evil. She was a good alien. She was, after all, an origin alien.

To Be Continued…


she was drawing a field with flowers and a stream. she thought it was real. then her teacher came up to her as she was coloring the grass green. she had been filling in the space, back and forth, methodically, attempting to cover any white paper that was peeping through. the teacher said, “does grass grow sideways?” Then, she learned to see.

Speed Skating

Sometimes I wonder if I still have a concussion from when I fell at the playground. There was that super steep hill that I kept roller skating down, tucked like an Olympic skier. As I approached, I’d stretch and grab the pull up bar at the edge of the jungle gym, whipping up in the air so fast that my skates almost flipped me clear over the bar. Trudge up the hill, fly down, trudge, fly, over and over, taking in the rush, accomplishing this great feat and getting nearly as high from the adrenaline as mom did from speed.

I mastered this movement. I spent weeks working on my form. I thought that if I went fast enough, I could get a full revolution around that bar. My biggest concern was kicking myself in the face with that big rubber stop bulging out of the toe of my skate. I always saw it coming at me, and then my momentum would reverse and my feet would fall back towards Earth. I knew it was my fear that stopped me from going all the way so I tried to advance myself, “Don’t be afraid! It will be worth it!”

After many failures to complete this challenge, I lost my chance to see if I’d kick my own teeth out. The last time down the hill, I reached for the bar that practically had my fingerprints embedded into it, and slapped it. Slapped! My grab didn’t hold, but making contact with my fingertips for that nanosecond was enough to throw me flat on my back, thrusting my skull against the ground. I was almost certain that my head had actually gone through the ground, took a glimpse at China, propelled back towards my neck, and rapidly resealed the ground with all that inertia.

I managed a zombie styled walk/skate home, sobbing and throbbing, until I passed some jerks who started making fun of me for crying. I straightened up and pretended I was suddenly fine. It was dizzying trying to contain all the swirling in my bruised head but I was used to toughing it out. None of those brats knew what I was going through, all alone, less than a decade old, the only responsible person in my household. I had to be strong or perish, survival of the fittest.