How I Became a Time Lord

I speak a few languages; some are real, some are not. For example, I am legitimately bilingual; I speak English and Spanish. I also speak Gorean, Kassar (though not often), smartass, dumbass, and sarcasm.  However, I did not know that I spoke Gallifreyan...

Well, not really.

According to the Dr. Who canon, there are only a few ways to become a Time Lord; be conceived (and born) on a T.A.R.D.I.S., absorb regeneration energy given to you directly from The Doctor, or be "produced" from a Loom. With that being said, you may ask yourself why the title of this states I became a Time Lord when none of that applies to me; chances are you did not ask yourself that, but it sounded good in my head. Don't judge me.

Moving on.

Again, according to the canon Whoniverse, Time Lords are the upper crust of Gallifreyans; they can, and do, travel the universe in a T.A.R.D.I.S. (Time And Relative Dimension In Space. So, for the non-Whovians, Time Lords are exactly as the first word of their name implies; time travelers. They can travel to the past, the future, or anywhere in time they choose; be it the moment time started, or the moment time itself ceases to be. Now, back to the question you did not actually ask yourself; how did I become a Time Lord?

Yes, there are going to be a lot of Dr. Who references; get over it.

On with the show.

How am I a Time Lord?  Quite simple, actually; everyday, or so it seems, I travel from the past to the present to the future. And just when I think my journey is done? Wash, rinse, repeat. I never leave the lack of comfort of not being on my own couch; it all happens in my head.

I hear a bang, or someone shouting angrily, or something gets thrown in my general vicinity and suddenly I'm in the past; I could be there for moments, minutes, hours, even months. When my adventure finally ends, I am transported (rapidly) to the present again; which is unfortunately short-lived. Upon reminiscing my adventure into the past, I am rapidly transported to the future; and that adventure could last as short or as long as the adventure into the past.

And, much like the above gif, it seems to be a never ending loop.

So how did I become a Time Lord? I was abused and now suffer from PTSD; it just sounds way cooler to call myself a fuckin' Time Lord...

Now if only I could figure out regeneration; maybe being a woman would be fun. I mean, I'd play with my own boobs all day...

Dumb and Dumber...and Dumberer...and Dumberest, Part Deux; The Dumbererestest of All.

Well, apparently some people didn't read part one; if that's you then give it an optical listen, you'll need it for this to make any sense.

Okay. Now that we have gotten the "formalities" out of the way, let's check out the latest installment of my rantings about levels of stupid so...stupid...it requires two o's, a silent Q AND a silent Z.

There are two types of intelligence; smarts, if you will.  Street smart and book smart.

Book smart is the type of intelligence you get from...well, books; things like knowing that it actually was NOT John Smith that Pocahontas fell in love with, it was the first mate of the ship. Or knowing that Android is a better OS than iPhone. Oh, wait...that's just personal opinion (...though it is still 184% accurate).

Street smart is the type of intelligence you get from...well, the streets. Things like knowing that going after the biggest guy in a bar fight will get you one of 3 results; everybody else to back off, your ass beat into a coma by the rest of his boys, or arrested. Things like how to hide in plain sight when you are wanted by the police; by sitting in front of the 911 call center as they drive right by you.

There actually is a 3rd type of intelligence; pseudo-intelligence. That type of intelligence where you, and others, have convinced you that you are right no matter what anyone says; even Google and the law.

Oh, wait...that's not intelligence...that is conceited, vapid, self-righteous, arrogant STOOQPIZDITY (two O's, a silent Q, a silent Z).

Just because you say that your money gives the right to act however you want does NOT make it true.

Just because you say that something steeped in facts with empirical evidence is false does NOT make it false.

Just because you say that you are an Alpha does NOT make it true; in fact, if you have to announce that you are an "Alpha" then you are actually an omega...maybe even the mutt of the pack. That, however, is another post for another time.

Eventually, members of the human race will clean the fat from between their ears and actually LISTEN to people OTHER than Mommy Dearest for a change.

Oh, news flash, MOMMY DEAREST LIED TO YOU AND SHE STILL FUCKING DOES!

Every fucking time you are told that you are always right, THAT IS A FUCKING LIE.

Every fucking time someone validates that someone else is at fault for your IMMATURE behavior, THAT IS A FUCKING LIE.

Every fucking time someone tells you that the recipient(s) of your NARCISSISTIC, SOCIOPATHIC, ABUSIVE, DOMINEERING BULLSHIT ARE TO BLAME FOR YOU BEING A PIECE OF SHIT AND A WASTE OF SPERM AND EGG, THAT IS A FUCKING LIE!

Moving on.

As Joni Mitchell once said, "...you don't know what you've got til it's gone..."; and 9.5 times out of 10, by the time you do, it's too fucking late. The reason I say 9.5/10 and 10/10; I'm allowing .5 for those people who are still trapped in the fire-free hell of Sweden. If, after reading that link, you realize you are there, know that you are not alone; I, and others I know, have survived it...you can, and will, too.

Now, it is possible that one day little Chucky will grow up and be a real boy and act his fucking age; mind you, I said possible...not probable

That, however, would require that little Chucky understands that if you OFFER to purchase something for someone that does NOT mean you get to tell them they owe you the money back...THREE FUCKING DAYS LATER...

That would also require that little Chucky understands that it is NOT his place to give even ONE flying flaming rat's ass about what OTHER PEOPLE spend THEIR money on...

However, a leopard never changes it's stripes; and if you don't get that movie reference, you're a Communist.

Moving on, one last time.

I simply cannot fathom how some people manage to survive as long as they do; especially if they are too stupid to know how to breathe properly...

Sweden is Nothing Like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory...

    Everybody thinks that Sweden is the land of chocolate; Swiss Miss Chocolate, Toblerone, etc.  Well, you're wrong. Their main exports are actually machinery, motor vehicles, paper products, pulp and wood, iron and steel products, chemicals, and military armaments; oh, and psychological phenomenon.

Yes, I said psychological phenomenon.

Stockholm, Sweden; it's a beautiful place.

How could such a beautiful place produce psychological phenomenon?  Well, they actually don't. They just have one named after them.

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME

If you've never experienced it, thank the gods; if you have...well...saying "I'm sorry" just doesn't seem adequate enough. It, as the above picture so perfectly explains, is hell without any fire; it is a nightmare unlike anything you've ever had, even in your worst wet nightmares...

Imagine this (no, we are not going to talk about Sicily...): An existence where you always find a way to take the blame for everything AND everyone; an existence where you fear, more than death itself, angering a person; an existence where you walk on eggshells...around yourself; an existence where the first, and last, thought of the day is "What will I do to make *said person* angry today?"; an existence where through all of that, you feel sorry for (and sometimes even love) your "captor"; an existence where you...well, where you do not actually exist...

Can't imagine that?  Be grateful; be very, VERY, grateful.  Living your life, and sacrificing your happiness, to make someone (or others) happy no matter the cost is...well...to put it bluntly, a pile of hot steaming emu shit. It is hell.

People talk about "hell" and it conjures up images like the one above; fire, lakes of sulfur, and a man in a red suit with a pointy tail/horns/pitchfork.

THAT. AIN'T. HELL.

Personally, I believe hell is here, on Earth; we live it, walk it, breathe it every single day. However, this is not about that. Hell is, for a fact, within; being trapped inside yourself, knowing that what you show on the outside is not what...or who...you are. And you cannot do a goddamn thing to stop it. Nothing. You're just...trapped.

That is Stockholm Syndrome. It is hell. And the worst part is that even after you've come through that fire, you still find yourself sometimes doing things that you did then; coping mechanisms you did not even realize you taught yourself to survive. And it could be the most obvious, or the most obscure, things; it could be a 5 pack a day smoking habit, it could be stress eating, it could be hiding in a tiny room, like a bathroom...

And these coping mechanisms? Well, they can persist for the rest of your life; and as a result, they can drag unwilling parties through your remnants of hell that may well always exist; and 90% of the time, you won't even be fully cognizant that you're doing it...until something hits you, like a freight train, in the back of the brain pan.

You may ask yourself how I know all of this (actually, you probably aren't, but just humor an old man).  Well, truth be told, I am a survivor of Stockholm Syndrome; medically diagnosed. And the coping mechanisms? Well, I have mine; and I drag two beautiful women through them, not even fully aware that a coping mechanism has been "activated".

To those two beautiful women, "I apologize" is not adequate enough; wind-blown promises of change are just that...wind-blown. I do not make promises I do not believe 110% that I have every intention of keeping, but I know I have no control over this; I would be a fool, and a liar, to say otherwise. Just know that I love you both, and I am forever "indebted" by the fact that you have put up with my "shit" (quite literally at times) for lo these many moons.

The long, and short, of it; I hope you never have to endure this. It is terrifying; worse than anything you can imagine.

Be well, all; may the moon light your travels.

~Cowboy