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Captains log stardate 3023374: It has now been three Earth years since I’ve travelled into space. I can not get over the loneliness and silence of outer space. I find myself talking to myself a lot. I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m going crazy, but I do think a lot about girls birthday dresses. Making matters stranger is the fact that I am an adult male. Yet it’s all I can get my mind around these days. Girls adorable birthday dresses, girls party dresses, even birthday girl dresses. If it’s a combination of any of those three words, that’s what I think about.
True, there are a lot of rational reasons to be obsessed with girls dresses for birthdays. They are fun, and colorful, and they make the wearer twirl and squeal with delight. These dresses give the birthday girl joy and make radiate with confidence. But that certainly doesn’t explain my obsession with them. Here I am, flying by the rings of Saturn. I should be preoccupied with the natural beauty of Titan, or any of the other moons of Saturn. Yet my mind wanders back to girls birthday dresses. I can’t go a freaking minute without thinking about a party where a birthday girl dresses up in a delightful ensemble and sings and dances amongst her friends.
My only respite is the brief amount of sleep I’m able to catch every night in this weightless, gravity-less hell I call my spaceship. I don’t even know why I say the word night. There is no night in space. It’s always night. Just sheer blackness… which incidentally runs in stark contrast to the glorious colors of girls birthday dresses. Ugh, I just said it again. As an experiment, I’m going to try to go one full minute without talking about… you know what. I’ll start my clock right now. I know I can do it if I seriously concentrate and focus. Now, where did I leave my watch. Maybe it’s in my other pair of pants. Wait, I don’t even have pants out here. Just this ridiculous red jumpsuit. Oh, if only I had a girls party dress. Doh! I did it again.
Someone please call me an ambulance. I’m not feeling to well. Maybe there’s a hospital on nearby Jupiter. I’ll set a course for it right now. Ooh, and maybe if I’m lucky, they’ll have a gift shop where they sell birthday girl dresses. It’s not my birthday, I’m not a girl, I don’t look good in dresses, but what the heck. You’re only in the outer edges of the solar system one in life, right?
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