The End of the World?

An interesting phenomenon seems to be occurring during this holiday season that I was unprepared for. Among other things, people are celebrating the end of the calendar year and the beginning of the new one, and some are behaving as though it is the end of the world.

My research tells me this stems from the “Y2K” phenomenon when the calendar year changed from 1999 to 2000, and people feared that their precious technology that ran their lives would be unable to handle the millennium change and revolt. This is of course preposterous, but many still cite religious thought that the end of the year is a time to repent for the End of Days, as they call it.

I can tell you here, with little uncertainty. The god of this world (or whatever higher deity you worship) is very unlikely to bring about a world wide cataclysm when you all most expect it. It is a simple strategy we in military intelligence refer to as, “catching you off guard.” As far as I can tell, there are not battle fleets out there about to wage war on the Earth, either. Trust me, I’ve been looking.

This all being said, enjoy your holiday. You should feel free to celebrate the coming New Year in whatever style suits you, but “partying like there is no tomorrow” may be going a bit far. The world is not going to end.

If for some reason, you all decide to commit mass suicide by waging sudden war around the world, that is your concern, but if there are any alien invasion armies out there—be they Sagittarian, Vegan, or even Martian—I will know about them first.

Holiday Hangover

I now understand the human term “overindulgence.” I have also learned a new term: “hangover.”

My current state is due to my first experience with the Holiday season. My understanding is that the holiday most humans in this region of the world are referring to is Christmas. Christmas is, from my understanding, when humans celebrate the birth of the offspring of the Supreme Being of the universe (or this world, depending on your point of view) who then grew up to save the world by getting nailed to a tree by the conquering Pagan nation, who did not believe in said Supreme Being but several others. The celebration primarily consists of the pagan tradition of presenting and exchanging gifts under a deciduous tree, eating a day-long feast (which seems to me is quite a bit like Thanksgiving), and consuming copious amounts of alcohol.

This research of mine may be incomplete, however, due to two factors. 1) Most of this information I gathered at my neighbor’s Christmas party where the feast and alcohol was served. 2) I am currently recovering from the consumption of that alcohol, which is a quite painful process called a hangover.

The weekend started innocently enough. My sister has off of school for the week because if is closed over the holiday, so I thought this would be an ideal time for us to have what the common parlance calls “family time,” which was in fact my very thin excuse to keep her away from that boyfriend of hers I do not care for. For once, she did not seem to mind, and we spent much of the past several days decorating the house for the season—everyone else on the block seemed to be, so I thought we should fit in—and partaking in the common arts culture of going to the movies.

When I was not avoiding her constant questions about how my date was with April, we saw the sad story of a magical boy on the run, a very enlightening tale of the rise of England’s King George VI, and a surprisingly gripping account a young man who had to cut his own arm off after being trapped under a boulder for five days.

Then on Friday, my always-friendly neighbor queried as to what our plans were for Christmas. Having noticed him taking his family to the local place of worship, I thought it would be safe to explain that Madison and I were not religious. That did not seem to bother him, but he insisted that we go over to his house for Christmas dinner on Saturday.

I was surprised when he insisted that I not bring anything, since he knows of my fondness for cooking. Nonetheless, we arrived early in the afternoon to find a feast that was even bigger than what had been prepared for Thanksgiving. Even more lavish were the decorations—strings of lights, big red bows everywhere, and a ten foot tall pine tree in the center of their living room hung from to bottom with sparkling ornaments.

I honestly do not remember much of the rest of the day. From what I recall his entire family was there, including about a dozen children, all nieces and nephews and cousins, who tore into the gifts under the tree while we ate and drank.

Now, I have enjoyed a glass of wine with a meal on occasion. One thing I have learned from all those cooking shows. However, I have always been very aware not to consume too much alcohol because I am still not sure how it will affect me. I had a glass of wine, and there was an after dinner cognac served, so I felt I could indulge in one glass. What I was not expecting were the chocolates.

My neighbors make these chocolates that I later learned are filled with a most potent bourbon, but having not recognized the taste, I found them delightful. Apparently, the batch was a bit stronger than usual, according to my dear neighbor, but that did not stop me from eating about a dozen of them after dinner. That number is also an estimate based on what Madison later told me. They were so intoxicating that my sister needed help carrying me home.

So, here I am, recovering from my first Christmas. I must admit, it was enjoyable until this recovery process. My sister and I did receive our first Christmas gift from our neighbors, a small artificial tree that sits on the kitchen table. It is a nice decoration.

Also, I do not know what brought this about, but I received a text message from April wishing me a Merry Christmas. I do not know if I did something or if Madison is behind this, but I do not understand human women.

Accidents

For a species that is so enamored with machines as the humans are, they have very little respect for them. I should be fair and note the fact that licenses are required in order to operate most machinery, specifically the automobiles that we are all stuck with as our main methods of transportation around town. However, some people that have received them should not have received licenses to begin with. Perhaps the qualifications for the licenses to not require a rudimentary understanding of physics. That is the only explanation I can think of when a driver of an automobile is surprised when inertia continues to carry the 4,000 pound vehicle forward when road surfaces are slick with rain and the tires cannot find instant traction.

That is my rather technical way of saying what most humans would say as, “The driver in the car behind me skidded into the back of my car at a stop and was too stupid to know why.” I could use more colorful language, but I am slowly becoming used to the local parlances.

I do not drive a great deal as my work is mostly at home, but I do find it a bother. It has been raining quite a bit lately, so the roads are “hazardous” or so they say on the news. Accidents do happen of course, but the sheer disregard of the machine which is being operated and a complete lack of knowledge of the physics behind it does upset me some. It was just me in the car and only the rear bumper needs to be repaired, but my sister could have been in it with me, and the result could have been much worse.

Now comes the task of getting repairs made. This is all handled through a bureaucratic process known as insurance. In my research, I was fortunate to recognize that operating a motor vehicle not only requires a license but insurance on that vehicle. At the time, I considered it to be an unnecessary cost, created by the human need to generate money from unnecessary things, but I am finding it quite useful now. I could have made the repairs myself, which would have been much faster than this process, but the bureaucracies humans put in place fascinate me. I will study this more.

The Dating Experiment

I do not know why I let my sister talk me into these things. I am perfectly adept at observing humans, but engaging in genuine human behavior one-on-one is not an ability I have adapted.

My date with April was not a success by any standards. I did not have great hopes going into it—which my sister said is my problem—but I thought I could successfully get through the dating ritual and pass as human. Fortunately, I do not believe April has any reason to suspect my alien origins, even if she were to believe them to begin with, but I do not think I made a good impression.

My initial idea for this date would be to cook dinner for April, since I have become quite skilled in that area, but Madison insisted that a dinner at my home might be too forward for a first date, so I should take April out to dinner to some neutral location. I therefore chose a local restaurant called Michael’s that has a good selection of cuisine, and I took April there.

April is a lovely human female, I must admit, and quite intelligent. She is a teacher of physics at Madison’s school, and she received her degree at the California Institute of Technology, which is quite an accomplishment from what I understand. This is an area I have quite an interest and knowledge in, of course, and the general protocol in a date is to discuss topics of common interest.

This I failed to do.

I supposed I was concerned that too much talk of technology and education would reveal too much of my own knowledge and origins, which is unlikely, since I have never had trouble covering up such facts with my neighbors. Instead of following this line of conversation, I did not want to talk about myself, so I did what I assumed to be the next logical thing, to talk about her.

April is attractive by most human standards. Physically, she would be quite suitable to mother several children, and she has a very pleasant demeanor. All things, I am told, are quite desirable in a mate. And this is what I based out dinner conversation on. The conversation became less vibrant after that, and April was muted in her responses. I observed these behaviors and assumed there must have been something wrong with the food, which of course there was not, but I requested the waiter bring her something new anyway. She did not eat any of that, though.

It was at this point in the date that I realized that I was perhaps a little too blunt and impersonal in my approach. As I relayed the story later to my sister, she not only agreed, but added that I was being downright rude. “Rude” was not quite the word she used, it was something more profane, but I failed to get a proper definition from her.

The night ended quickly after that. I attempted to apologize for my bluntness, which she politely (if ingenuously) accepted. April continued to be polite for the remainder of the evening until I saw her home. I attempted to salvage the evening by turning the conversation to her education and my interest in science, without being too leading as to my true knowledge of the subject, but the attempt was ineffective.

Consider it a failed experiment. t is too bad really, as I did quite like April, as human females go. I certainly hope it does not affect my sister’s performance in school.

Dating

My sister has been pestering me for almost as long as we have been here to engage in human mating rituals, more commonly known as dating. Therefore, I have finally agreed, perhaps against my better judgment, to go on a date.

The chosen female, whom Madison has vetted herself, is a teacher at her school by the name of April. I have met her once, under the pretense of picking Madison up from school, as I have previously mentioned she was grounded. This was, I became aware, all a rouse by my sister to meet April in attempt to get the two of us to socialize. Being a student of humanity, I was of course intrigued. However, I have the impression that April was more inclined to interact in a friendlier manner.

I have to admit, April is quite attractive for a human, but I wonder how this can go considering I am not in fact human. How can I explain my alien origins to her, and should I? More importantly, what exactly am I supposed to do on this date? My understanding is that coffee or drinks is common. More standard is dinner and a movie.

I do like to cook dinner, but Madison explained to me that the first date should be in a more neutral location. (I suppose this implies there will be a second date at some point.) This date is supposed to be tomorrow night, so we shall see how it goes.

Rain

When I was researching ideal weather conditions for the mission that brought me here, I believed that the southern California region of North America to be the most suitable location. It has a temperate climate, generally sunny and warm for the needs of a human body, whereas most locations have more drastic seasonal change. This also means that while most locations around the northern part of this continent are experiencing a more seasonal snowfall, we get rain.

I realize 70 percent of this planet is covered by water, which is impressive for most planets, but the rainfall here can be quite unpleasant. My sister enjoys it, having never experienced precipitation of any kind before we came here. I find the idea of rainfall appealing. However, rain here is treacherous in a way I could not anticipate.

It seems to change the behavior of most humans, making them disagreeable, irrational and dangerous to be around. They completely forget common principles such as operating machinery in a cautious way on slick surfaces. So much so, I would say, because the larger the vehicles they are driving, the more recklessly they use them. At first I thought that there was perhaps a malfunction in the system whereby the vehicles and roads communicate to each other as to the most efficient transportation speeds and routes, but they are somewhat behind on this technology.

This fact does not stop them from blaming their vehicles for the causes of the accidents that I have witnessed occur. Fortunately, I have not been in any myself, but I shall stay indoors. Hopefully, the unpleasant weather will lift tomorrow.

Also, my sister’s detention is thankfully over. It was only meant to be two weeks, and for both of our sakes, I am glad I set that limit. The weather forcing us to spend so much time together inside has almost become unbearable. Madison has gotten far too human, and I believe I may be as well. Perhaps this weather really is affecting us, but a new week to give us some break from each other’s company will provide some relief.

The Great Feast

This weekend, my neighbor was again kind enough to invite me to the most magnificent feast. I even suspended my sister’s detention.

From my understanding, the feast, called Thanksgiving, is a traditional celebration by this nation’s conquering settlers whereby they honor the vanquished with the sacrifice of a very large bird and consumption of various dishes. I imagine the tradition is similar to the hunt of the feral Gingubous Beast by the Argoths of Kar. I have seen that beast, and it is a fire-breathing razor-toothed menace of the Outer Rim. The turkey, while large enough to heartily feast on, is not quite so impressive as a target of sacrifice. I imagine there is some loss in the translation over the years.

The feast itself was an absolute delight—bread stuffing, mozzarella mashed potatoes, corn pudding, sweet potato pie—all traditional dishes, I am told. For my own part, I was eager to contribute a recipe for Risotto I have wanted to try out. It has certainly gotten me thinking about more possibilities in the world of food. Perhaps my favorite part of this holiday was the continuous coverage on the Food Network with more new ideas for cooking.

Now, we are entering an entire “Holiday season” during which more of these feasts will be prepared. I greatly anticipate this season.

Detention

I have placed my sister in Level 3 Detention. You may be more familiar with the term “grounded.”

She should know better. I know our progenitors raised smarter younglings, but Madison was out far past her agreed curfew last night with some human boy whom I have yet to meet. She has become so accustomed to living as a human that she forgets that she is not one. She trusts her classmates too much.

I must take some of the blame. Since we arrived and it was clear that I must take charge of her, I have laid down rules, but I have given her too much freedom.

“But it was just a date,” Madison insisted to me. “All human teenagers go out on Saturday nights.”

That may very well be true, but I reminded her that she is not an ordinary human teenager. She is only posing as one. I must press upon her the gravity of losing sight of that. She loves the humans too much, and she forgets how dangerous they can be.

“You love the humans too,” she reminded me. I may, but that does not mean we should stop being appropriately cautious.

This prompted an argument that lasted quite late into the morning in which she insisted that I do not care for her to form any attachments to the humans because I have been unable to. That is not a fair statement. I am simply looking out for her wellbeing. Who knows what dangerous things young human males are capable of? We are protected as well as can be, but humans are rash. The secret of our alien origin aside, she could be in any sort of danger from this boy. Teenage males of this world are brimming with hormones that make them out of control.

My sister insists that this boy, Nick, is a good guy and would never hurt her. It turns out that this Nick fellow is that same neighbor with the band that threw the noisy party not too long ago. I threaten to talk to his parents, but Madison is already irrationally angry and will no listen to any reason regardless.

I have to let it go for now. Madison is grounded for the week, and I believe that is punishment enough. I could forbid her from seeing Nick, but what little I know of teenagers tells me that will do no good. I will have to keep an eye on them, though. My sister is becoming rebellious, but I may be able to deal with that. This boy Nick is the one I am wary of.

Angry Birds

Since my sister convinced me to get a “smart” phone, I have come around to enjoying many of the recreational applications available for it. My current enjoyment comes from an application called “Angry Birds.”

The birds are apparently angry because untrustworthy pigs have stolen their eggs. Like any noble species, the birds are willing to sacrifice their own lives in order to destroy the dishonorable pigs and gain back their precious eggs and, presumably, their own honor.

I understand this is a game of fantasy, but I find it an intriguing commentary. Perhaps the humans are onto something with the development of the species around them. Birds, most birds anyway, appear to be noble yet easily angered creatures, and from all accounts that I can tell, pigs are much less honorable. There are certain things about the pigs that remind me of humans.

My sister has been reading a book in school called Animal Farm, which she and Douglas have insisted I read. From what I understand, it is also about a pig uprising. These humans may sharper than I give them credit for.

Still, pigs are not as sinister as squirrels. It would not surprise me if squirrels were behind this uprising of the pigs all along. It may be a good idea to attempt contact with the birds.

Squirrels

You cannot trust squirrels. Of all the various species on this planet, I hypothesize that squirrels are the most nefarious. I have very little evidence to back this suspicion up, but I have that twinge of feeling that humans call a hunch. Perhaps it is their uncanny resemblance to the Guild Founders on Sagittarius A, but perhaps it is unfair to stereotype.

Certainly, they appear friendly enough, even cute by earth standards, but if you look closer, they are untrustworthy thieves at best, and much smarter than they are letting on.

All I know is, I was enjoying a relaxing day of golf--a game that my neighbor has been kind enough to introduce me to--and we were regularly vexed by the presence of squirrels. Since the point of golf is to hit a very small ball with a large club across a great distance in attempt to land it inside a hole, the challenge is always to find the ball after hitting it. I am not exaggerating when I say that on approximately half of the holes, we spotted a squirrel attempting to or successfully stealing one of my balls.

Yes, now that I think, each time they went after my ball. If they failed to steal a ball, the squirrel or squirrels (as they sometimes traveled together) attempted to steal something else out of our cart, including a bag of corn snacks, which I have become quite fond of.

I am quite unsettled by the notion they are targeting me because they may have learned the truth that no one else around me has discovered yet. However, I am further unsettled by the thought that, as my neighbor James said, "They do this all the time." He insisted I not take it personally, but should the case be that the squirrels are not personally attacking me, it can only mean that there is a larger conspiracy at hand.

If they steal that many golf balls or other items from patrons of the course on a daily basis, where do they take them? I have theorized that they must dwell close by and underground.

Also, if their lair is big enough to house all that, and they are clearly smart enough to outwit recreational golfers on a regular basis, what else could be down there?

I must study the squirrels more.

All Hallows Eve

An interesting phenomenon is occurring today. I was concerned I would have to invoke emergency evacuation protocols again. Starting a couple weeks ago, my new friend the television began warning me of a coming cataclysm in which, from what I could understand, the dead would rise from their graves, and all manner of creature would rise up against the humans. In all of my studying, I could not find the creatures described except in human mythology. That is, until I discovered it is all mythology.

This is a day, my sister tells me, people celebrate the dead of this world by dressing up in all manner of costumes, pulling pranks, and seeking out candy. It is quite a concept. When most people I seem to encounter are very concerned that their appearances remain plain and conservative in relation to the standards of this society, this holiday give them a chance to “let loose” as they say. Even my neighbor is having a gathering today and has encouraged me and my sister to come and dress up. If only he knew that we are already dressed up.

Madison is a willing participant, as she is with most human activities these days, and encouraged me to go in costume. I considered for a moment, attempting to take my natural form, but I worried about that. So, I am dressing up in green as a “Martian.” My sister calls it irony. Again, I apologize to any noble warriors of Mars that might take this as an insult.

Laughter and Romance

As I watch more television, I have questions I do not seem to understand. There are certain programs, as I understand it, that are “live,” as in they are currently happening, such as new programs and some of my dear cooking shows. These programs seem to exist with the purpose of some interactivity, though it baffles me because there is no way for me as the viewer to respond to any of the people in these programs. As accomplished as I feel at learning to grill up a marinated pork roast, I feel rather silly talking back to the television.

Which brings up another thing. Some of these programs I am seeing have random bits of laugher echoing from the screen, yet I can see no one laughing. For instance, thanks to my sisters sudden interest in the males of this planet and her insistence that I should “date,” I have attempted to study more on this local notion of romance. Thus, I was watching this interesting romantic program called “Mike and Molly,” which concerns from what I can understand the only two large people who live in a city full of small people, and said couple’s genetic necessity to copulate. It all seems to make perfect sense except their mating ritual is continually interrupted by laughter coming from some unseen people. From where does that laughter originate?

Perhaps these laughing people are unseen because they are so small, thus their need to ridicule even larger people. This is sad to me because Mike and Molly seem to be quite pleasant people. I still do not have a grasp on human comedy. I am sure there is some humorous element I am missing, but then I was trained to be an analyst. Madison understands human behavior much better than I do. Still I do not understand where the laughter could be coming from. I certainly hope these unseen ridiculers do not suddenly surround me.

In other developments, my sister has been “seeing” an as yet unnamed human boy. According to Douglas, who has become quite a reliable source of information to my surprise, Madison has gone on several dates with this boy, including spending time with him after school. I do not like it, and Douglas seems almost as concerned as I am. For the time being, I can trust him to get to the bottom of this.

Television

One aspect of human culture I have not talked enough about, but deserves much more attention particularly because of its breadth and influence where I have taken up residence, is television.

I have particularly enjoyed watching the Food Network due to my newly found interest in cooking. More recently, I have expanded my knowledge on the workings and content of this device that is, I believe affectionately, called the “idiot box.”

Thanks to my recent illness, I was unable to do much cooking, so I turned to other channels for entertainment. My sister is enamored with the program “Dancing With The Stars”. Dancing is, of course, a universally shared activity for many species throughout the galaxy, but for bipeds encumbered by their inability to fly, humans have a greater variety of dances than I anticipated. It is a testament to their creativity. It is also a testament to their hormones, since most every dance seems to be part of some mating ritual or another.

I am impressed with the sheer volume of programming that is produced for television, and after being sick for over a week and unable to do much else but watch television, I am further impressed by how hard entertaining programming is hard to find. Yet, everyone watches. “Glee” is quite entertaining, though. I do not get the sense from my sister that there is quite that much singing in her high school, but I am curious what goes on over there.

To digress a moment, I suspect this boy she went on a date with this past weekend is in some kind of musical group. That seems to be the pattern, but she will not answer any questions on the matter, insisting I need to get a girlfriend of my own. Again, I do not see the logic.

I have also become introduced to Video On Demand. They may seem the same, but movies are quite different from television. Curious by how humanity must think of extra-terrestrial life, I have listed a queue of movies on the subject. “Alien” being at the top of the list alphabetically, is quite amusing. Apparently, humanity thinks that we aliens have nothing better to do than to attach to their faces, turn them into symbiotic hosts, then burst from their chests only to continue to hunt them for food. The whole acid for blood thing is quite unfortunate also. I imagine, the poor Aliens from the movie do not get invited to many sporting activities.

I will continue to watch on. I am hoping to learn more about the human space exploration program “Star Trek”. Of course, I will always go back to the Food Network. I do still like that Giada De Laurentis.

Teenagers, Part 3

Human bodies are too frail sometimes. Not as frail as, say, the salt people of Canis Minor (they dissolve instantly in water), but still frail enough to become unwilling host to any number of microorganisms. In this case, it was apparently a common cold, but the conventional nature of this virus did not prepare me for the endless coughing and mucus coming out of my nose.

I still blame Douglas. To be fair, I should take it easy on him, as Madison keeps reminding me. It may not entirely be his fault, but schools are the perfect breeding ground for these viruses, and teenagers, with their propensity to mingle socially, are the perfect incubators. Madison was sick as well last week, but she got over it much quicker than I. She got it from Douglas, Douglas got it from his friend Raphael, and Raphael got it from someone in gym class because apparently something is going around. I questioned why none of these children were quarantined for such a highly contagious virus, but my sister assured me that the common cold is not enough to warrant a student to be forced to stay home from school. That did not keep her from trying, of course.

Still, I cannot hold it against Douglas. He was quite helpful in suggesting remedies to cure my ailment. Chicken soup was one of the more interesting ones. My initial mission training on humans included several vitamin needs as well as pharmacological remedies, but chicken soup was considered to be a mere placebo. It worked quite effectively, though. I must run further tests. Douglas has actually been quite helpful, so I must add him as an interview subject.

It should be noted, that Douglas and my sister Madison are not, to use the common parlance, dating. They are only, as my sister keeps reminding me, “just friends.” However, my sister did have a date last night with some mystery boy. She was not out past her agreed upon curfew, but I do not like it. A date on a Saturday night can only be trouble.

I must discover who this date she had was. I do not like him.

Sickness

I have been waylaid by some illness that is affecting my body in a way I am not quite familiar with. I believe they call it a "cold" though the weather has been unseasonably hot lately. I am told it will pass soon as long as I rest and drink plenty of liquids. Such a curious thing to say, since I cannot imagine how I would drink a solid or a gas.

I hope to be back up around soon. How I contracted this disease is a mystery, but I am still suspicious of Douglas.

Teenagers, Part 2

I still do not like Douglas.

Madison has been spending time with him every day after school this week, and I am sure it cannot be just for this chemistry lab they are working on. Madison can do these equations in her sleep. She could work out cold fusion in her sleep.

Perhaps, that is it. He must be onto us in some way. I would not be worried if the government was after some secret of ours. They already have anything useful, at least anything they could wrap their minds around. But this boy, he is too curious. I do not believe he is, as my sister calls him, "a nice guy." No, he is up to something. If he has not figured out who we are, I fear he soon will. And then what will he want?

She is supposedly seeing him again tonight. It is not a date, she tells me. She said she is going out with friends. However, I am sure this boy is involved. I can hear that little hidden excitement in the tone of her voice. She has only been in this human school two weeks, and already it is happening.

This is a date. With Douglas.

I do not like that boy.

Teenagers

My sister brought a boy home from school today. I did not like him.

His name is Douglas… something. She said he was her lab partner or something, and they had to study for class. I do not see why they could not do this in the library at school instead of in her bedroom. And studying advanced chemistry helped by listening to music meant for dancing?

He is a very curious boy, this Douglas. Kept asking questions—How did we like the neighborhood? Where did we live before we moved here? Isn’t it impressive that Madison is the youngest person in their school taking AP Chemistry?—this last one was more of a statement. I wanted to tell him it would be impressive if my sister was a human teenager, but if he could comprehend that she had the brainpower to map his DNA… but then we are trying to blend in here.

Madison insists that Douglas was just being polite and trying to make friendly conversation. The conversation would not be so friendly if he knew, I had my phased plasma rifle polished and charged right where I could get at it easily. My sister of course thinks I am being foolish, that Douglas is just a nice boy in her class. Nice. What does that word even mean?

Yes, Douglas is far too curious. I shall have to keep an eye on him.

False Alarm

For a brief moment today, I thought we would be going home.

I got a ping on my com device. I thought it had stopped working. The link to any inter-space communication had long since been severed, and yet it pinged. I had given up getting any signal with the com-link, so I put it away with the secondary protocol tools in the garage, and it took me some time to get to it when I heard the ping. It could have been pinging all day for all I knew.

Once I did get to it, I did not take long to realize it was a false alarm. My sister must have been playing with it. Despite adapting very quickly to being a human teenager, she’s still my kin, which puts her intelligence and skill well above any human. It looked like she had been trying to fix it. In a way, she did. It was fixed enough to perform along the same lines as these so-called “smart phones” so many earthlings are so enamored with.

I will admit, the device does have some useful and entertaining features, so I can see the appeal, but I could not help but be disappointed that the ping was not from the homeworld or rescue or someone else from the lost mission that we may have overlooked. The ping was from Madison, it turns out. She was testing to see if I had gotten her gift, and she let me know she’d be staying late after school.

I am sure she meant well. I had resigned myself to being on earth for quite some time, content to send these messages out into the void hoping someone from home is picking them up. I still hold that hope, but I did not realize until now how much I truly miss home. When Madison returned from school, I had not the heart to tell her how I now knew I felt. She was quite enjoying being here on earth, and she was excited by the smart phone she had created for me. She said it would help with my sociological research, understanding human behavior. And she added there were some “pretty neat” games she could get for me as well. This did sound appealing.

I suppose we are human now, and this is our home. I only just realized it.

Naps and Noisy Neighbors

I am still getting used to this human body. I keep forgetting the necessity to sleep for 8 out of 24 hours in the day. Madison adapted to that more quickly than anything else I think, and will sleep well past the sunrise. Yesterday, to celebrate her completion of her first week in high school I made a Denver Omelet, a breakfast delicacy I saw prepared by a cheery woman on the Food Network. It was already getting cold, and I had to threaten to dispose of it before she would get up. She said it was the weekend, and she was “sleeping in,” but I believed this is more of that human teenager behavior she was picking up.

Why not be awake for every hour of every day if you could? There is an entire world to learn about out there. That’s how I’m approaching things, but Madison says I’m exhausting myself and I need to relax.

The work I do for income is not very demanding and I can set my own schedule, which at least initially was meant to maintain a low profile. It leaves me more time to continue my research on earth life, which in still so interesting to me, I forget I need to rest. This led me to pass into unconscious for a short time yesterday afternoon.

It was the most unsettling feeling I’ve had since arriving on this planet. I was disoriented, weak, and in darkness. The worst of it was I was panicked that my previous comments about the Martian battle fleet had precipitated an interplanetary incident because I surely was hearing the War Drums of Mars from my back yard.

Fortunately, before I could enter my emergency evacuation protocols, my sister stopped me. She assured me that all I had done was taken an afternoon nap and slept till sundown, and the drums were merely coming from our neighbor’s house, where several of her classmates were having a very loud gathering that she had not been invited to. She seemed upset that she had not been included, but she would not admit that to me.

Though it would have broken protocol, I was tempted to use my plasma ray to “break up the party” as they say, but Madison assured me that a simple call to the local law enforcement reporting a neighborhood disturbance would do it.

She was pleased with that. She was particularly pleased that this particular classmate of hers had not gotten his parents’ permission to have this party, and apparently they were quite angry at him for this.

Once the party had broken up and all was quiet, I decided to try out another one of these afternoon naps, and I awoke an hour later to find myself more refreshed and alert. And I was motivated to attempt another recipe from this book of cooking I acquired this week. Perhaps, I will try more of these naps.

- POSTSCRIPT -
Madison starts her second week of high school this week. She still has not had anything to report to me about it, but I wonder if this is because there is nothing worth reporting or if she does not want me to know.

Barbecue

Living as a human might not be so bad. I had a remarkable new experience this weekend. Our neighbors invited us to a social ritual feast that is apparently some kind of celebration of the non-working day. They called it a barbecue.

I have never experienced such a delight of consumption of sustenance. You must understand of course, that the biology of my world allows us to absorb nutrients from minerals in the soil directly through our skin, so having to chew and taste food is an experience I am slowly getting used to. Not that I am completely unfamiliar with it. The warriors of Antares, for instance, skin and consume the raw flesh of their defeated opponents to honor them in the afterlife. Other races have been known to heat or cook dead animals so as to tenderize the meat best for consumption. But I have never seen the likes of the preparation and care that goes into cooking the animals of this world.

It is not just flesh, either, but the fruits and vegetables from the earth. All the spices, the different ways to cook—grilling, steaming, boiling, frying—to bring out different flavors. This is all a new experience. There is certainly an ingenious quality to the human mind that it can look at a tomato and think to do anything to it. Of the tastes I was most impressed with at this barbecue was something called Tabasco sauce. A veritable explosion on my tongue. I could drink it by the bottle.

Up until now, I have been content to blending protein drinks, which my sister does not particularly care for, but I think I will have to learn more about this cooking. Madison suggested that we pay for cable television, apparently to stay in touch with human popular culture. Anyway, there is one channel dedicated entirely to food! I had no idea there could be such a thing as a cooking program, but here they broadcast different cooking programs all day. (For a culture so obsessed with collecting valuable currency, humans sure like to waste it on things they aren’t even aware of.)

I look forward to learning more of these culinary arts.

Greetings Earthlings

My sister says I need to get out more. That’s easy for her to say. She’s 16 and about to start senior year in high school. She’s also adapted much more quickly here than I have. Let me explain. My name is Carter, I’m 30 years old and starting a new life in a new place, and I am an alien.

When I say alien, I mean a visitor from another planet, what you would call little green men from Mars. I’m not green of course, and I’m not really Martian either, but for sake of simplicity, let’s just say I am. Though don’t tell that to any of my Martian friends. They’re friendly enough, Martians. Boy, do they like to drink. But they can be pretty mean drunks, too. Lucky for you, they’re about the size of fairy flies because you wouldn’t want to mess with their intergalactic battle fleet.

But don’t worry about me. I come in peace, as they say. I got stuck here as a result of a failed mission to… well, it’s a long story. Anyway just me and my little sister now, and we’re trying to eek out a little life for ourselves.

Madison—that’s my sister—she loves it here, of course. She’s a teenager, at least in earth years, though she is far more advanced than anything she can be taught in some high school. But we have to blend in a little.

It was her idea that I write this blog. She actually thinks that I need to start dating. That’s the word she used, anyway. Dating. She tried posting a profile for me on one of those websites that uses countless parameters of psychological profiling to match you to you’re ideal mate, but what am I going to say to an earth woman? I’m an eligible alien bachelor performing an anthropological study on the mating rituals of humans, and do you mind being the vessel for my unborn spawn so that we can perpetuate my species. No? Well, that charms the females back home just fine.

This blog was a good compromise. I’m supposed to be collecting data on the history and habits of earth creatures anyway. At least, as my sister put it, it would seem like I was talking to someone instead of just transmitting out into the void.

Now, you may be wondering, shouldn’t I be afraid that I’ll be found out by posting a blog about being an alien? Won’t the government try to hunt me down and cut me up into tiny pieces or something? Well, why would they want to do that? Any government Martian hunters that would actually believe me and be interested in me have known I’ve been here long enough, and they’ve got bigger fish to fry. The way I see it, anyone that would read this blog I’m sure would pass it off as a simple piece of fantasy. And any unstable attention seekers that would believe it, wouldn’t know what to do with me if they did find me.

So, here it is. A document of my experience here on earth, and any oddities I find absolutely fascinating about your funny little world. Like humus. I don’t know what it is, but that is some tasty stuff.

Greetings Earthlings, my name is Carter, and I am an alien.