videophage.com

I always thought it was a dumb question to ask people what animal they would want to be in another life. And I thought it was even stupider when people wanted to be anything other than a human again if given the choice. But now, I wouldn’t be too mad if I was reincarnated as a jellyfish. I could see myself enjoying life as a transparent, immortal, hermaphrodite blob. I don’t know if jellyfish enjoy things. I don’t feel like learning that much about them, but they seem interesting. I’m positive a plethora of bad articles already exists about how they’re the perfect creature that are far superior to humans because they just go with the flow or something. I’m not going to paraphrase their life cycle because I don’t feel like learning about it that deeply nor do I have anything insightful to say about it. It’s just cool and I’d give it a try.

At the pool today, I heard a woman’s voice singing opera from over the fence. A jellyfish couldn’t have heard that. It felt almost surreal to hear this beautiful, faceless voice when no one else was around to hear it with me. Before it really registered, my brain was already contemplating how I could climb onto the gazebo roof to see who it was, or I could at least try peeking over the fence. I just stood up in the water and listened before returning to my laps.

I used to be scared of swimming alone for fear of a shark spontaneously appearing in the pool and then proceeding to eat me. Maybe it was because of Finding Nemo and that chase scene through the naval mines. But whenever my brother would get out of the pool, I’d get out too a couple minutes behind him. I was scared of sharks and vampires and the dark for the longest time. I was reading an illustrated children’s copy of Dracula I had gotten from the library and there was this terrifying vampire woman with a pale blue face that took up an entire page, so I made myself kiss it as a way to conquer my fear. I still turned around whenever I was in front of the mirror though.

I don’t know how old I was, but as a kid, I made myself a time capsule. On the bottom of the wooden box, I wrote to only open it on my birthday in the year 2030. I wrote it in pen. I remember I forgot to paint one side of the lid. It bothered me for a long time whenever I’d see it because I always meant to go back and fix it. The only thing I actually remember putting in there was a small article about polyps, like an actual small piece of paper. It might’ve been one of those informational cards you could tear out of a kid’s science magazine. My aunt got my me and my brother a subscription to Ranger Rick for Christmas one year, I believe. I don’t think that’s where it came from actually. And maybe I put a small stuffed animal in there too. It wasn’t a very big box.

For the first time in forever, it feels like I am not writing for anyone.