I have the rudest pillow in the world.

Very often, when I get excited about an idea I have, I take it to bed with me. I think it over and over again, classic pillow talk. I recently realized that my pillow can be like a fluffy version of Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction, equally badass, only out of shape.

I recently had an idea, a very naive one for an advertising campaign promoting dairy products. The idea was to start calling all the products made with dairy 'Moolishius,' a playful word mixed between the 'moo' sound cows make and the word 'delicious.' Very simple and understandable for kids and adults. 'Moolisious pie' sounds a million times better than 'Pie made with dairy.' LAME! Sounds cool, right? But here comes the big 'but,' my pillow pulled me out of my sleep in a snap or whatever pillows do to wake you up, getting warm perhaps? Whatever.

'Moolisious' also rhymes with 'malicious.' How did you miss that? My pillow asked, all wrinkled and starting to get hotter and hotter by the second. - Is your brain blind? Are you a dummy, dummy? Were you dropped on your head when you were a kid?" - Actually yes, a bunch of times, but anyways... That's when I realized my pillow is the worst, even worse than the worst boss I had ever had – a very small Korean old lady who owned a sushi restaurant in North Carolina where I was a waiter for a summer break. What a badass lady she was, insulting people in Korean, throwing food at employees, cutting tips, and always smiling at customers with that classic villain's smile as they pet their cat…

When I realized what I was doing to myself, I threw it and put it under my feet. That's what you deserve, you white, fat, wrinkled, shapeless, rude piece of... So, I put it under my feet and grabbed 'Perro papa,' my daughter’s super-soft stuffed animal, and used it as a pillow. I'm so mad I don't think I can sleep now.

-Yeah, I know, that sucks, woof, woof.

-I have to wake up so early tomorrow, sucks.

-Yeah, definitely sucks. I think you should get out of bed, have a couple of beers, and smoke some weed. You're not sleeping anytime soon.

-Who are you, TED? What the heck… I think I need to hide you somewhere. I can't let you hang out with my daughter. I think you might be a very bad influence, although you might still be better than a pillow that allows you to talk trash about yourself. Okay, let’s go get a beer, don't be loud.

-Woof, woof.

My daughter could be dating an alien 20 years from now, and I should be ok with that.

Mom, Dad... I'm dating an alien, and we are moving to *his planet.

During the current events, my mind took me to this weird place. I'm not sure what I'm doing here, wondering about this. But here I am sharing this weird feeling. I'm relating this weird feeling of losing someone you love to when, back in the day, people like my grandparents moved out of Japan by boat and left everything behind. A trip that would probably last for weeks or months, knowing that it was highly unlikely to go back. Where letters would take weeks to arrive, and memories were the only thing we had.

I can't imagine a world where I would have to wait probably weeks or months to hear from my daughter that's living on another planet outside of our solar system...

3D video projection of her would be like,

Mom, Dad. Things here are amazing! How many suns do you think we have here? Three, three suns! Can you believe that! Look, look! I can't believe this place. I've met creatures from other planets, who have some amazing tech, kind of like what you used to use... hmmm, think it was called Google Translate? To tell you a fun secret, Dad. I farted while we were walking the other day and almost killed someone! Seems like the gases I emit here are highly toxic for some aliens, kind of funny, right? Guess I have to remember what they look like before I fart in public, just acknowledge I can even rob a bank. "Hey, you little 8-eyed creature, I've been holding this fart for 6 hours now, I ate beans which you probably don't know what they are but, oh boy, you better watch out... haha... I remembered when you used to play dead when I farted, I miss that... Anyhow, days are very, very long here, like 58 human hours long, but I met some humans here and they say it might...

The video would cut abruptly due to a bad connection...

... 'll get better, gotta go, minute is almost done, and this thing is expensive. Love you!

Just thinking and writing about this makes my eyes watery. I can't imagine the day when I won't have her around to do silly stuff anymore. Alien or not, that day will come; I have to figure out how not to "die" when it does. Good thing I have some years to come up with a plan. Damn aliens, made me reflect on something very deep."

*Note: Regarding gendering an alien, it's understandable to be cautious about potential offense. Using "their" instead of "his" when referring to the alien could be a gender-neutral option... or not.