I think about aliens. A lot. Basically, “Big wide universe, where are the aliens at?” In brief (and adorable) cartoon form:
Galacduck scares the hell out of me now. Oh shit, Galacduck is right behind me, isn’t it??? But actually, there’s something that terrifies me even more…
First, you should know that I don’t believe in God — a God, your God, any God — and that doesn’t upset me. The knowledge that we’re all just fending for ourselves down here on this lump of mud hurtling through the nothingness is okay-alright-cool with me. Some people do believe in religion,and I marvel at this, at their unwavering faith. I can’t imagine believing in anything with that much certainty!
I think, like, in the same way that theists just accept that there is a god, I’ve always just accepted that aliens must be out there. No doubt as a result of watching too much TV as a kid. The church sermons didn’t make it past myfilter, but Marvin the Martian did?
Yeah, okay, whatever. Welcome to my brain. But the idea that we are the only form of life that passed all the “filters” and we’re alone in the universe? That’s the one that has me waking up with a rapid pulse.
Only problem is…y’know…where are they?
So as per 5.3, are they just not ready for us? Or 5.16, are they ignoring us? 5.9, is it the fucking gentrification and they can’t afford to come to Brooklyn? 5.4, aliens u ok? 5.15, aliens u shy? Or more likely 5.11, is it us, not you?
I think I’m being very patient (5.10), but when I look around at *shakes hands vaguely at the state of things* all this fucking mess, I can’t help but wonder if some far-superior species couldn’t come around and help us out. Or at least have the decency to (5.5) destroy us and put us out of our misery!
The truth is, I will bend myself backwards and over again, twist myself up into a pretzel trying to justify the existence of aliens, because I’m terrified of being alone.
There! I said it! That’s my Achilles heel, and the thing that scares me more than anything.
On a small scale, for instance, I can’t sleep alone. I leave all the lights on, I watch TV on my phone loudly; I’ll be lucky to catch a couple of hours of snoozin’ if I’m the only one around. The last time I remember being deeply, profoundly, and existentially terrified was pet-sitting for my parents; I spent a whole night alone in the house I grew up in with only the dogs. I was afraid to walk past the windows in the front of the house, for fuck’s sake!
On a slightly bigger scale, I am terrified that I’m going to end up alone. Of course, I’m terrified of that cliché of having nobody to sob at my bedside as I wheeze my dying breath. But I’m also smack dab in the middle of the horror that is living alone.
As a single woman alone in the big city, for example, I can’t go to the dentist. Well, what if they have to put me under anesthesia, and I need someone to come and pick me up? Who do I call? The blank spot for “Emergency Contact” on forms makes the color drain from my face. My family lives hours away. What if something happened to me? Frankly, it’s cruel of government forms to remind me that I’m all alone.
And one of the comforts that helps me allay this fear is aliens. To feel a little bit less, I don’t know, cosmically alone. To believe, with all my heart, that someone, or something, is out there in that inky black mess of the universe. Even if we’ll never meet.
And unlike God, they don’t necessarily have to be watching me in order for me to feel less lonely on those sleepless nights with the lights on… but I’ll tell you something, it’s better to have the lights on if some E.T. weirdo is looking in your bedroom window from their UFO, with that creepy glowy finger!!! Yeah, I’ll keep the light on, thanks.
So we puny humans will keep sending signals out into space in the hopes that we’ll get a reply. A cosmic “U up?” text. In a way, I feel like writing — like this — is a big leap of faith. Like I’m sending my satellites into the universe in the hopes that some alien entities (you, my lovely audience, who have made it all the way to the end of this post) will receive my transmission. Maybe you’ll leave me a comment like: ? doo dee doo doo baaahhhhh ? and our close encounter will remind me that I’m not alone. I’m not lonely, because I believe there’s something more out there.