A faceless world

The right thing to do.

No worries. I “heard” the titles. The challenge of the assignment:

Develop a story about a “nameless” world. Use our character or name “generator”. If I have to use that, does the requirement include selling my soul at the same time? Can you please explain the rules.

My point comes from a place of, “I don’t get it”. Personally. As the possibility of one developing teen and/or young adult may read this, I for one, could not in good conscience sell their soul(s). I would not even think to ask their permission either. I could not construct a writing worth reading that would support this fantasy story.

What does it matter? Apparently, it does a lot to some people. To me it seems rather “sneaky.” I choose not to be sneaky. My oh my where does this behavior begin and end? The spying.

What a person’s name is or is not. What they “look” like or not should be of zero relevance. I simply could not come up with anything relevant to writing something worth reading about a fantastical and nameless, faceless world.

To me, it makes zero sense.

Seems more like a “cop out”. A fantastical excuse to hide. Behind an idea that is doomed to fail. Provided by a generator. I am cold, yes, is that the meaning? “Ride the wave baby.” No thank you. Young people have enough crossing their minds these days to have to deal with this burden too. Why saddle them up (and) down with yet another burden? Tell them “so and so” sent you……I do not think I want to play this game. What would be the point? Do I have to? Who says so?

Boy oh boy, I sound like I am in kindergarten. Pardon me. I am beginning to repeat what I am hearing. Seems to be all around. Most of what I hear right now. There is a saying that youth is wasted on the young. Is that what is going on with the so called adult leaders in the room? Are they confused. Worse, do they know what they are doing? Why do they speak as kindergartners. I am so confused.

Except. I still have a right to my thoughts and to do the right thing. Phew. Thank you Parent, Brother, Sister, Karma-tic belief, God, Neighbor for teaching me well.

What in the world is a character generator?

A parent? Pastor, Minister, Your God, Karma, Brother, Sister, Neighbor, Teacher.

I’m kinda confused. Maybe the adults in the Junior kindergarten classroom are simply mis-firing their points and mis-directing the fantasy show they are writing? Wishful thinking. How come they get to keep talking and telling me what to do? Who made them, “The boss”.

Oops, there I go again, sounding like them the- talking—headed adults again. Sends chills up and down my spine. I am cold, that is for certain. Perhaps I do need a generator. Body heat. I can always start jumping jacks in place for warmth.

Underestimating the effects and affects of screen time aside is dangerous business. Whatever happened to face to face in person interaction? Cues. Cue cards. Hints. Hand gestures. (No not those gestures..)

Seriously.

Leaders become leaders, not just because they have stellar inclusivity thought bubbles. They lead for the greater good. Stay in their lane and land. Continue steering their power of responsibility to drive their point home.

One of the right of passages of young persons becoming adult-like; in lock step to becoming independent of their parents, parental units, is working and obtaining a driver’s license. Make no mistake about the nuance. Learning to drive a vehicle is serious business. Not child’s play.

The familiar dreaded feeling of seeing a loved one get into a vehicle and operate it is nothing short of frightening. It is the first of many ultimate “letting go” moments. And another burden thrust upon younger folks at rapid speed. Pardon the pun.

When learning to drive as a youngster, there was required manual reading entitled, “Rules of the Road”. Oh my goodness. How the content parallels real life is beyond fantastical comparison.

We were tested, tested and re-tested. Out on the road. In a practice building called a simulator. Complete with steering wheel, control panel dash board, an RV like contraption where we were instructed, informed and tested again. We were required to practice a certain numbers of hours on the road. In the simulator. Verbally. Written. Tests, tests, and more tests.

After hard work, practice and increased confidence, passing your and completing driver’s education course, written, practicum is within your reach!!

Success is yours. Until you arrive at the DMV. Provided you survive the DMV experience. Which is akin to a cattle call or the grand ol’ opera-y. A bit of a circus.Remember you are only 15,16,17. Soon, to be free and on your way. Freedom is a highway!!! Woo Hoo!!!

But no. First you must display your cheerleader moves as you move within the DMV building. Something like “Lean to the left, Lean to the Right, Stand up, Sit down Fight, Fight, Fight”!!!

There is a written test within this DMV building as well. As I recall one question, a multiple choice question. The question asked: “When is it acceptable to operate a motor vehicle with open liquor inside.” As I scanned the “acceptable” answers, “Never” was not on the list of choices. I kinda looked around me as if someone was in the near proximity laughing their butts off. Maybe this was a joke question. Everyone around me “looked” serious.

What to do. What to do. I gambled. I re-read the questions. I studied the manual, pamphlet, booklet. Many hours. I was certain this was a joke question. I drew a line through all the “acceptable” answers and wrote. “Never”.

When my answers were checked by the DMV counter checker. The person looked at me. Looked down. Handed me my test. Gestured the direction for me to move on to the next counter. The eye examination. Corrective lenses section checked, ticked, confirmed. Examined by a machine. Whew. Passed. Benign.

Move along to the picture section part. Almost there. But not quite there yet.

Right before signing for your license, a bit of signing your life away. There is a declaration of your intent to play the organ game. Not the instrument. Your organs. Your organ donation. Commerce clause aside. Paraphrased, the declaration goes something like: Upon your death, in a car or elsewhere, will you donate your “good” body parts to a person in need.

Or course.

No brainer.

Sure.

Will do!

In the back of my mind I am thinking, Gee, I am hoping there is something they can use.

Before I know it I am standing in front of the camera. How darn exciting! Except the rules are “No smiling”. Check. “Hair pulled and put behind your ears”. Check. “No make-up” Check. “Stand up straight, no slumping.” Check.

I am starting to get an uneasy feeling like this is a mug shot of sorts. But no worries. It is just a driver’s license. (Just a driver’s license) Right?

Wow. This first of firsts right of passage has been conquered. I am on my way. Give me the keys!! Freedom is a highway!! Woo Hoo. However. I must call for and wait for my parent, parental unit to come pick me up. I do not yet have enough money, a job to earn the money to buy my own car yet. But. Woo Hoo. I have my driver’s license.

I better get on that. Start the search on that right away. When I get home.

Oh well. Look on the bright side. This is good practice in learning the real meaning of to “share.”

Names, faces, and signs aside!