And Now For Something Completely Different

September 11, 2018

This isn’t tech-related. Just some words I’ve been trying to find for years.

/kimberlythegeek

monty python

“Life’s not fair, and it doesn’t make sense.”

So many times I’ve wanted to scream that it isn’t fair.

I can’t even begin to make the sounds.

As soon as they manifest in my mind, I hear my dad’s voice echoing those words back to me.

“There are only two rules of life,” he would say.

“Life’s not fair, and it doesn’t make sense.”


I am not a superstitious person.

I shun the idea of coming to a conclusion without sufficient evidence to support it.

Though with all my logical reasoning, there are things that I feel that I don’t fully understand, and things that I can’t explain.

Have you ever known someone who understands you, so fully and fundamentally, it seemed as though you were almost one in the same?

Kind of like two different flavors of the same operating system.

You aren’t the same person; in fact you are very different in many ways, but the kernel you’re built on is most definitely the same.

For me, that person is my dad.

As a teenager, when we’d make the long trip between Kansas and Mississippi, we could talk for hours upon hours. We could just as easily sit comfortably in silence and revert into our own thoughts.

We definitely didn’t agree on everything. In fact, we stand firmly on opposite sides of some topics.

But there was this ease of conversation, this commonality between us that just didn’t exist anywhere else.

I hate the term “kindred spirits”. It brings to mind the same kind of person that would try to convince me that a gluten-free diet can cure autism.

Regardless, I know of no other words to describe this feeling.


I never knew that my dad had also felt this way, but for many years—all my life, really—I had this inexplicable connection to heroes.

It’s really quite embarrassing to admit.

Any tale of courage, bravery, triumph, ignites in me this ferocity that I can’t control.

I am overwhelmed by an unyielding compulsion to stand up for what is right. Protect those who are victimized, and confront those who threaten them head on.

I see these stories, and I know without out a doubt that I would act the same as the heroes.


I had never told my dad I felt this way. I’m pretty sure I had only told one other person.

Of course, because what a ridiculous and arrogant thing to say about oneself.

I believe it nonetheless.

My dad uttered very much the same words to me, just a few years back.

What an amazing feeling to have such an indefensible belief validated by someone else.


Dad had always been a little absent minded. He often forgot things, or would space when he was in the middle of talking.

There was a point, though, when I knew it was more than just forgetfulness.

Shortly after the birth of my first child, it was confirmed.

My dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s at the age of 60. I was 22.

For the first few years, things didn’t seem to change much.

The symptoms were obvious, but he could easily get back on track in conversation, and an immersed, in-depth discussion was still possible.

I remember being on the phone with him during a very dark time in my life. I was in an extremely volatile marriage, and, once again, had called him for advice.

He was speaking, and like a poetically cruel metaphor, his voice just faded away. It was as if he simply forgot he was talking.


It has been about 7 years since his diagnosis. He is otherwise very healthy, energetic, and just as optimistic and loving as ever, if not more so.

Some days, though, it’s just fucking hard.

I look for support groups.

I think about calling my sister, or my friends.

But I don’t.

I don’t want to talk to them.

I just want to talk to my dad.