Fighter Pilot

Well, this tune’s spinning on the old internal turntable this morning:

Fighter pilot you're losing the war again
When will you ever learn
Fighter pilot you're making a big mistake and setting a bad example
John Cale – Fighter Pilot 

I woke from a dream where I was a spy – specifically, a Romanian linguist for the Navy. Sound familiar? Kevin was a Navy Hebrew linguist. My job was to fly over Romanian airspace, listen in to their ultra secret and POSSIBLY sinister plans, translate and report back to Spy HQ.

Cool, cool – right? Well, no. I totally froze, forgetting the Romanian language entirely. It may as well have been Klingon.

Utterly horrified, I flew back to base. My superiors were disappointed but not as upset at my failure as I was – nowhere near. I kept bleating “how could this happen? I’m good at languages!”

FYI, I’m not. I LOVE learning new words and phrases in different tongues. It would thrill me to no end to be fluent in a zillion other languages (or even one) but I’m not. Hells bells, the only language I’m fully functional in is written English. I limp along, badly, in ASL, can still read a little German and understand a teensy smidgen of Spanish and Italian.

Kevin was fluent in Hebrew and Arabic. Julie in Spanish and French. Cindy in Italian and French. Della – Dutch and German. Perry – German. Hillel – Hebrew. ENVY but, FFS, I have a hard enough time keeping up with English.

Back in the dream, I was sent off to a therapist to help me calm the fuck down and then back to language school.

Was this dream really about my language ignorance and failures? Maybe it was more about this unending, all encompassing limbo in which I find myself.

• I can’t go out for walks – too icy ON TOP of the nearly 6,000 new Republican Plague here in Massachusetts yesterday alone.
• I can’t elliptical. Since pulling muscles in my back/chest (after a goddamn coughing fit!), I’m still trying to figure out what sort of exercising I can do that won’t leave me in screaming pain.
• I’m on hold regarding my next tumor time procedure – surgery or chemo (not decided as yet). This is due to my failure to recover sufficiently from this past January’s and August’s surgeries, along with the hospital being jammed up with Republican Plague patients.
• AND the flamingly incompetent pool of rabid and diarrheal weasel shit and his cartoonishly evil, stupid henchmen are STILL in power.
  

While I’ve not had another seizure since last Thursday, I’m not yet successful in achieving my goal of full mobility and recovery. This is limbo.

By the by, limbo blows giant Krayt dragon wang.