Damn, I said that out loud.
The Maxx says that too, most every time he talks. He realizes that his inner dialogue has snuck out of his mouth again, and probably scared whoever happened to be around to hear it. Guilty.
For me the allure of Maxx the homeless, dark hero, is that he reminds me that we all secretly want to be a hero, even the most unlikely of us. Sometimes we try and fail. Sometimes we get it right. Sometimes we remember that the shit we deal with doesn’t sting forever. Sometimes it might seem like it does, but as Maxx says- pain reminds you that your are alive, and that this growing up thing might just be pain management. For me, Maxx brought it all together. The draw of being a hero, living through pain, and maybe growing up. A perfect birthday tattoo to end a big year.
I spent last year as 42. Weird. I thought 42 was supposed to be the answer to Life the Universe and Everything?! But it depends on the question right? Nerd alert…it’s a reference to Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy books…where you better carry a towel with you and 42 is the answer but we forgot the question. Typical. Monkey brain at it’s finest. I would totally forget what it was I was talking about or what the question actually was if I had to think about it for millions of years too. But I’m always asking questions. Always.
How many years, how many tattoos, how many laughs, how many times do you have to try to bake biscuits before you get it right? How many times will you almost run out of gas in Nevada? How many seconds does it take to change a life for the better? I could generate at least 42 questions that could give 42 as an answer through math or physics or angles of light and something about protons because I spent hours this past year thinking about that number and questions. I always have a ton of questions and sometimes I say them out loud, much like Maxx says things out loud too. Like what are we doing here?
42. I was supposed to get it all figured out right? Riiiiiight. I’m hopeful that it’s true. I’m hoping that maybe, just maybe the questions or answers don’t actually matter after all because of a silly little theory. According to the nerd herd and google of course, 42 in the computer programming world is essentially a coding thing* that means that by having 42 be the answer, whatever the question was… it can be whatever you want it to be. Sure, I’m not a computer nerd and I’m obviously way out of my element trying to explain it, but having the answer/question be whatever you want it to be sounds…amazing. So 42 was the answer to whatever you want it to be for life, the Universe and everything. Cool. really cool. But I still have questions!
I read a lot about the number 42 in fandoms and forums and conspiracy theories over this last year because nerd me thought I would get all the answers and that in some kick ass ironic cosmic reality I would figure it all out. The joke is on me! I really didn’t. What I have discovered is that if anyone tells you they’ve figured it all out, they are lying. None of us get it yet. None of us know what the hell we are really doing on this big ol’ ball of rocks and stuff floating around other big balls of rocks and stuff in a place so big most of our tiny brains can’t actually imagine the scale. I mean really, the Universe is really, really huge. We are barely even specks of cosmic dust. I think we’re all just a little lost out here.
I may not have gotten all of the answers or questions at 42, in fact I probably just created more questions for myself in searching for answers, but I’ve come to accept that as part of how my brain works. The answer just leads to more questions. But I have learned with absolute certainty that there is some really cool stuff out in the Universe when we take the time to see it. Maybe that really is the point, to see and appreciate all the awesomeness there is in this world of ours. The list is really never ending, and really fun to write about. I recommend writing a list of your own if you’re ever having one of those bad days we all have. There are people who smile when they see your tattoos. Kids who squeal with joy for no apparent reason whatsoever. The smell of fresh cut grass that can only be smelled if you’re riding a motorcycle somewhere in Iowa. Thanksgiving football at the park. Speeding through cow towns because they literally leave a shitty taste in your mouth. Getting a free gummy shark from Dean and DeLuca and doing a happy dance. Holding hands everywhere. Playing games with the herd. Sunsets and sunrises in red deserts and snow dotted mountains. Smiles and laughter until your cheeks hurt, eyes water and your stomach hurts even the next day. Thunder and lightning that reminds you of Greek Gods. The sound of the ocean and cool tiny rocks you find in your pocket when you do the laundry. Twisting full throttle on a wide open highway. Doggos and kitties doing things. Being a foodie. Kindness to and from strangers. Gratitude for the big and little things, especially the little things. Super heroes, even the most unlikely and tattoos that remind you that you are alive. That was just part of 42.
But as far as the question?
I think I found one…at least.
What would you do if you weren’t afraid?
Damn, I said that out loud. Now you know what I’m thinking for 43.