#AtoZChallenge Reflections #IWSG Writing Fears- Existential Crisis

I didn't get to comment on as many blogs as I hoped and planned to. Life is not what I ever imagined and I'm having a difficult time adjusting and reprioritizing. I can't wrap my head around my current situation.

Jamie of UniquelyMaladjustedButFun

This fortune cookie 🥠 actually sums it up. 

I fear being less than who I dreamed I would be.

Except... I am. 

I am far less than my dreams. 

Do I start over with new ones? 

Would it matter? Doctors keep saying I'll be gone before 2030, absolutely no matter what, that I will never turn 50. Seems like a threat, because they won't even offer hope or space for a miracle or anything. I don't know what to do with that. 

Just live each day?

Just try to spend as much time with my husband as possible? 

I love him. I'm grateful for him. I absolutely don't want to exist without him by my side. 

I barely read or write anymore.

Didn't even manage to make many blog comments because I didn't prioritize time for it. 

So, I guess my fear now is that I'll write instead of spending moments with my husband. And I fall apart when we're watching tv together (the only activity he's interested in at all right now) and he starts playing on his phone. And I'm excluded. So now I'm not living my dream, I'm not reading or writing, and we're not actually doing something together. And I don't like myself. And I don't know WHAT NOW. 

What goal do I live for?

Who am I? 

Do I just wait for death?

Do I demand more of myself?

And to top all of this, my wrist HURTS. Just this month of blogging, half done on my phone, has my wrist and fingers feeling like a rock 🪨 smashed them. 

(A problem that started in Jan 2024, when the stroke impacted my right arm, and then got worse when it was SLAMMED hard, with all the might of a tech and nurse, as they tried to shove me into a tube and I got stuck.) So now writing, something I live/d for and that makes me feel alive, happy, and purposeful... now it hurts. Like a punishment, like maybe I'm not supposed to be me. Maybe I'm just supposed to be John's wife. A great gig, granted, and one I am grateful and proud to have. But am I still more? Am I me? 

Or am I already gone?

I have ALWAYS said that if I can't write, if I'm not writing, that I am dead. 

I hold to that.

Right now, I'm alive, but I'm barely living.

I am not who I was. 

Rejections, failures, lack of talent or ability? 

Those were never my big fears.

Success... slightly, because I've dealt with stalkers before (non-fame reasons) and I don't have it in me to go through that again.

I don't know.

When I think about what I most want, it's to traditional publish a novel under my name. 

Preferably the Lenore story I've been working on for a few years.

A traditional publisher wouldn't accept it because it would ABSOLUTELY be a banned book in America right now. 

And if you speed round ask me what I most want to do with my life, with my time left, that's what I'll immediately say. 

And then pause.

And say I actually want to spend every possible moment with my husband. Who the doctors keep saying will be gone in four years, UNLESS he gets his blood sugar under control. (He gets an unless. But every time he gets close, something happens and it gets messed up. Like they change his meds. Or now he can't do physical activities. But we're not supposed to consider the scientific reasons. We're supposed to just FIGURE IT OUT. Other people magically master this, why can't we? 

I'M A FUCKING FAILURE.) 

See... and then I don't want to write. Don't feel like I should.

Don't know who I am. 

I have no idea who I am. 

I don't think I've been me since 1998. 

All my social media. "JamieWriter." 

That's how I define myself. 

Sure sounds like someone who should spend most of her time writing. Or at least some. Sounds like she'd fight for it.

And she'd protest libraries being shutdown. Probably more than just letters and mentions on her blog. 

Maladjusted. 

See... it was funny when I said it before. My mom always said I was strange. 

Maybe stranger than anyone knows. Even me. 

I WANT to WANT to write more than anything. And I do... sorta. I want my actions to reflect that. 

But, ah... what my actions and choices prove are that my true desires are to spend every possible moment with my husband, and to experience as little physically pain as possible. And that is the absolute truth.

Please, I need to fit writing in there. My soul wants NEEDS that.

I read the original Harry Potter query letter. If you've ever seen it, it's obvious why it was rejected. It breaks every query rule. It included sketches. It was a hot mess. It's amazing Harry Potter was published at all, let alone the subsequent worldwide phenomenon. 

But, there are 9 other examples. 

Maybe this meme graphic will help someone going through less of an existential crisis. 

https://www.facebook.com/share/1BbR9PRdbo/

I want to end this on an upbeat note. Because one thing I CAN do is support and appreciate other authors. Vikki is turning 60 and having a book release milestone. So please check that Facebook post out! Or her Urban Fantasy on Amazon.

You'll be grateful for it someday #atozchallenge 2025 memory

 

"You'll be grateful for it someday."

My grandmother said that more times than I can count. She lived through the Great Depression. (From a century ago, not whatever current garbage.) So I guess she had to accept a lot of crap. 

I don't know. My great grandparents seemed to be doing pretty well, as far as I can tell from going through the old house. Fine China (now stolen), a crystal chandelier (my dad has that), a piano with real ivory keys, jewelry (mostly stolen now), furs (yup, also recently stolen). [Why didn't my Aunt let anyone sell some of this stuff? Well, a thief sold plenty! The police 👮‍♂️👮‍♀️ caught one guy. He's declaring insanity. Trial pending. 🙄] 

Anyway. What terrified me was that ominous one day. Like, just how far would I have to fall to be grateful for an itchy sweater that didn't fit over my, then, C cups (I'm wayyyy beyond that now, oh my, Victoria Secret doesn't even carry my size- just saying)? And I don't mean slightly itchy. I mean I freaked out and genuinely tried to rip off my skin. Chicken pox itched less. I could not calm down. It's terrifying to think I could be grateful for such a horrifying experience. Just how bad is life expected to get??? 🥺😵

Xandria #AtoZChallenge

Xandria Barbara Smith

My daughter. 

Barbara Smith was the name of the baby-daddy's dead mother. We wanted to honor her. 

I wish I had a better picture. 

Something more than an ultrasound from from my second trimester. 

She was never okay. I did everything I could for her. It wasn't enough. Undersized. Underweight. Underdeveloped. 

There was barely a moment. 

A whisper of life, of motherhood. 

I am still a pro-choice supporter. Even though my choice was her life, and I was denied too much of that experience. 

Wins #AtoZChallenge

Wins 

When I was a child, age 10 and under, I went to toy tractor shows with my Aunt. People display their toy tractors. There are awards, trophies, for this. 

Usually, people just put some on shelves. 

I did displays of the toys looking like they were on farms, or construction sites. Seatbelts became roads. We dyed sawdust for dirt and grass. Blue clingwrap became water. There were toy farmers and farm animals. 

I would rehearse the weekend before, to decide on the scene. Then pack everything, and set it up at the hall or whatever. 

Then I'd sit there for a few hours. I'd hope to read quietly. Sometimes I could sneak that in. Other times, I was supposed to talk to strangers, even though the number one rule is NEVER, EVER, EVER, TALK TO STRANGERS. But I was supposed to know which strangers are acceptable to talk to. 🤪  This, inevitably, resulted in my disappointing my Aunt, because I was trying to sit quietly and read. 

Judges and reporters asked questions. Never the right ones. People didn't show interest in the story I'd mentally write for the characters. They'd ask about the toys and my interest in farming and how I got into this. Stuff I didn't know, I had no actual interest in farming, and my Aunt told me I was interested. 

I just wanted to behave. I wanted to be good. Sometimes, I'd win trophies. But they stayed at her place. 

The trophies, and photo albums that might have shown my wins, have probably all been stolen during the robberies of the last few years. No clue what people would want with that. 

Actually, when I was about twelve, I saw a "behind the scenes" documentary type thing about a movie. It showed how people use toys and models to create sets. (Probably all CGI now.) But I saw a potential future for myself. And was finally interested. 

But we didn't go to shows anymore. Puberty. I became less interesting or something. I don't know. 

Anyway. That's something I was once good at, wins 🏆,  and almost no one knows about it. 

Vegetable #AtoZChallenge

There was a weekend I stayed with my cousin Janelle. Her mom, Debbie, made dinner. There were green balls on the plate. I really liked them, and I said so. 

"Eww," Janelle said.

"What?" I asked.

"You like BRUSSEL SPROUTS?" 

I shrugged. "I don't know. What are they?" 

The green balls.

My dad hated them, so my mom never made them. 

But yeah, I like Brussels sprouts. Best when steamed. A little butter 🧈 😋. 

Truth #AtoZChallenge

American Pie

Years ago, back in 2000, when I was still friends with people who, maybe, I shouldn't have been...

A few weeks after my daughter died,  and I left my fiance, and I started a new job, and moved twice... 

I was with my friends to hangout for the night. They put in the movie American Pie, knowing full well that I hate that movie. So I walked out. No throwing a fit, no protest. Just gathered my things, politely said goodnight, and left. 

One followed me. Not for any good friend reasons you might hope. She said she wanted to talk. (Meaning I left, she drew the short straw, and had to "deal" with me.) 

So we walked outside. 

"Why would you walk out on the movie?"

"I don't like that movie."

"You gotta get over your dead daughter. Babies die." 

What??? 

I should have hit her.

I should have knocker her on her fat ass. Sorry. But who the f🤬 says shit like that? 

I don't recall what all was said before I got away.

But I know what I DID NOT say.

I know I pointed out that there's a scene in the movie where a girl is filmed undressing (or web cammed, whatever) without her knowledge or consent, and it's put online. I asked this "friend" how she'd feel if that happened to her. And she said she'd ki1l herself. 

So, here's the truth.

I didn't tell her.

I did not tell her that it DID happen to her.

I found out. And I fought to get it taken down, under child porno laws. I knew the right connections at the time. I got it dealt with and taken down, as far as I know at least. 

I never told her that the movie she found so funny had a scene mocking a horror that happened to her, something so bad she'd rather not live than endure. 

Should I have? 

I don't know. The group and I parted ways after my respiratory condition from the CT-511 got worse. They turned on me for having a medical condition. 

Frienemies. 

Reference Section #AtoZChallenge

Reference section at the middle school. There were various sections in the school library. The middle area was reference. It had the Encyclopedias and such. (Prodigy was the only Internet we had, and it took 10 minutes just to get a search started. And the results were not even close to what Google offers.) 

I was one of the five approved volunteers in the library. And for 2 of the 3 years, I was in charge of the reference section. This was a big deal. 

Here's something really funny. My last year in middle school, we got a new librarian. She married my Godmother's brother. 

Pink dress is my Godmother Sue, her brother Timmy, the 👰‍♂ bride librarian, Timmy and Sue's mom.

Despite being extremely healthy, coaching and playing basketball, etc... Timmy died in his 40s of a heart attack. The librarian now ran the middle and elementary school libraries. 

Quiet #AtoZChallenge

Quiet

I was a very quiet child. Too well behaved.

Have you ever been forgotten? 

My parents and family weren't bad. I was just too quiet. 

People wouldn't notice I was around. "We gotta put a bell 🔔  on you!" 

Mostly, they'd forget me. Left me at a neighbors' one time. My mom was driving me to school one day, forgot I was there, drove to work.

"Yay! No school today!"

"Ahh! What?"

"What?"

"Oh. Shit." Then she drove me to school. 

It's hard to be the forgotten one. 

No one ever forgot my brother. No one was ever surprised he was in the room. My brother makes noise. He isn't quiet. 

I write my representatives. 🤭 I'm not quiet now. I'm not interested in shutting up anymore.

#AtoZChallenge Lunch

Facebook

Lunch memory of getting framed.

Into the Future #AtoZChallenge

1999 to 2000. Millennium party.

Friends Joe and Erica joined us to ring in the New Year... new century... new millennium. 

(I know some will argue that actually starts in 2001. But all the cool celebration stuff was 99 to 2000. Including the Y2K fear that computers would think it was January 01, 1900, and then screw up everything from banks to plane crashes. 

Kinda like the 2025 Trump presidentcy. 🤣) 

Anyway. People thought there would be so much change, such progress. 

Monday came and the world was pretty much the same. Into the future? Eh... not exactly. 

Garbage #AtoZChallenge memory

🎈

"No. Not spending money on a balloon. That's garbage, junk."

Yeah, dad, it is. 

In a week, it'll be trash. 

The helium will all run out, and the balloon will crash to the floor. And even if I put it in my toy box to try to save it, eventually someone will chuck it out. 

Or is it a happy memory? Is it a few hours, a few days, of joy? A brief reason to be grateful for life? 

Why is anything that doesn't last forever automatically garbage? 

You car doesn't last. 

Mom didn't last. 

But every one of those memories was worth it. Worth everything. 

#AtoZChallenge Drinking

Drinking

[The following is for entertainment purposes only. It is illegal to consume alcohol while under 21 years of age in the United States.

This is not a confession or accusation.

Resemblance to life is coincidence.]

Legal disclaimer? Check.

Okay, so, I went to wedding with my family when I was 6. The reception afterwards was in a firehouse (very common in Pennsylvania). It was freaking hot. 

At the tables, every place setting had a little plastic cup. (A shot glass, but I knew nothing of that.) I took a sip of the yellowish liquid. 😬🤢

NOT white grape juice.

Tasted how I imagined Bleach would taste. 

(It was sparkling white wine. For the toast. 🥂 ) 

I had to go to the bartender to get something else. Why my parents, grandparents, or Aunt didn't handle this, I don't recall. I guess people were supposed to stay at their table? I don't know. So I go to the bartender to ask if I can get something to drink. Ice tea, preferably. 

They don't have that.

I couldn't drink soda. 

Eventually, after crying, I managed to score a cup of pineapple juice. 

I was seriously thirsty. I managed one more cup. They wouldn't serve me anymore because they needed it to mix for actual drinks. 

The dance floor was a disaster. It was overwaxed. People kept falling. My grandmother accidentally stepped on the corner of the dance floor, and 🐧 she went down, slid like a penguin across the room.

We left soon after. Hang On Snoopy was playing and my cousins were in a pile. Again, not from drinking, just because the floor was slippery. It was a shotty reception. And my first sip of alcohol. 

When I was 11, my mom took me with her to a BABY shower for a woman she worked with. A pregnant 🤰 woman. 

There was a bowl of punch to drink. No alternatives were set out. That's fine, I like fruit punch. After my fifth or sixth cup, the hostess pulled my mom aside.

"Are you sure she should drink that?"

"It's fruit punch. She can't have soda. And nothing else is set out, so yeah."

"Umm... there's a bottle of vodka in that." 

It was a baby shower. 

No other beverages were offered.

The very, very pregnant woman and I had been downing alcohol for three hours. 

And that's how I had my first hangover in sixth grade. 

In high school, we sold "Spirit cards." It was a fundraising thing. A bunch of businesses offered discounts and freebies to anyone with a spirit card.

Applebee's offered a free frozen beverage, such as milkshakes or margaritas. 

My friends and I took our cards to Applebee's. We ordered strawberry daiquiris. They can be made without alcohol. Ours were not. We got free drinks every time. Let me tell you... we were at Applebee's every damn week. 

And yes, I told my mom. She knew. And she also knew that we weren't getting drunk off of one. Hell, she saw me down a bottle of vodka at age 11 without getting all messed up. 

I could tell you about college. I lived in an apartment my freshman year. One time, my roommate and I went away for the weekend. Came home, opened the door, 😵‍💫 the FUMES alone were enough to get a person drunk. We decide to open the windows and clean for a bit.

But I'm gonna skip ahead. 2020, legal drinking! (I was 40.) 

My husband, bff, and her then husband, went to Atlantic City. It was the last weekend before "lockdown." No one was there. It was awesome.

A place had recently opened on the boardwalk. They served slushies. 

They served alcoholic slushies. 😋🤤

So good! And we were staying at a hotel, no driving, so... bottoms up! 

Two years later, this treat appeared at our local beer distributor, Shangys. 

Look, I don't actually drink much alcohol anymore. I've had probably 2 of those a year since. I really like them. I just don't spend money on drinking. 

Not like when I was younger. 

Cats #atozchallenge 2025 memory

This was my boy. He sadly 🌈 crossed the "rainbow bridge" years ago.

 

He loved to play the "winky-blinky" game where he'd shut his eyes, then open one to see if your eyes were closed. He also loved to "help" my husband play video games.
 

This is my other little brother, Mikey Shadow (named for the OCC guy). He claimed dad's shoebox. He also liked to steal the remote. He passed a few months after my mom did.
 

My Aunt and Uncle had a cat who loved to climb. After he tore up two screen doors, they made this one. He loved to climb up it, then meow his head off until a human helped him down. Ahhh... cats.
 
I am Batman... err... Batcat


Greetings, Batcat. I am Two-face.

Have a puurrrrrfect day! Enjoy the #AtoZchallenge

Black Saturday #atozchallenge blog hop

A memory I regret having. A moment I am forced to live through. "B" was going to be for "books," and I was going to try to find a way to discuss how valuable libraries are to authors and book lovers. Libraries in Switzerland, of course, because they are known for being politically neutral. (In America, libraries are now political fodder due to an executive order against them.)

😖
As a writer and book lover, I have BIG, STRONG feelings about that, as it does impact my writing life. MY GOAL of publishing a book that is popular at the library cannot happen if there aren't libraries, which is how the order will eventually result.

But that's political! So I can't, won't, and am not posting this in a post with the Insecure Writer's Support Group label or banner.
I'm skipping creating a post for IWSG this month. 

It would be a self-betrayal not to discuss how scary that order is and how I feel about US public libraries losing their primary funding source. 
As pictured above, you can see I wrote my Congressional representatives. However, not only do I lack faith they'll read it, I now also don't believe they have the power to help.

Black Saturday- March 15, 2025 https://theintellectualist.com/black-saturday-us-constitutional-crisis-2025/

"laws are only as strong as the institutions willing to enforce them."

That quote fits my life. See, I was a ridiculously well-behaved child. (https://www.additudemag.com/autism-in-girls/ ) At one point, I was moved to another class to "set a better behavioral example" for other students. (What idiot came up with that bullshit??? Can I tell you how much no one wanted to be me? OMG.) 

But, I have a younger brother. Unlike me, he has never focused on PERFECT behavior. 

No... no... he was a little troublemaker from the start. He'd push every boundary to see what he could get away with. And whatever punishment or discipline you might think would have worked, you are wrong. Because people tried them all.  ALL. Social Workers were called on a daycare worker, so no, physical violence did not deter him.  It did teach him that hitting was okay, so there went that boundary. Bravo.

Anyway, here is what I know from being stuck with the "juvie" crew and watching my brother grow up. There is absolutely no point to rules when there are no consequences. 

"Don't eat the candy."

And if a kid eats it? The kid has had the reward.

"Seriously, no candy!"

Okay. Kid has more candy.

"What did I say? You're in a time-out!"

That sounds like a punishment. Someone like me would have been absolutely devastated. My brother? He'll piss in your corner. NOT a metaphor. 🍆💦

Eventually, the disciplinarian gives up. 

And that's America now.

The court ruled. A judge told the MAGA to go stand in a corner, stop doing the illegal actions.

But nope!

And now the corner is pissed on. The carpet stinks. And even if someone says to clean it up, it's not gonna be cleaned right. 

No enforcement.

Oddly, people are getting deported and denaturalized (that's where someone born in a country is stripped of citizenship and chucked off to some other country, a citizen of nowhere with no identification or passport) left and right. But they're skipping due process, so the justice system is again cut out.

I'm sure Elon and his DOGe team will be firing all the judges soon. 

"That's not legal! You can't just do that!"

Who the fuck do you think is gonna stop it? 

No, seriously. No one has stopped anything else.

Oh sure, there will be some protestors. Maybe even a war. 

Keep in mind that we're dealing with someone who already wanted to use a nuclear ☢ weapon on a hurricane. And he has now shut down the agencies with the scientists who explained why that would be a bad idea. 

So, if you believe he wouldn't nuke his own country... he already wanted to do that and has fired the people who told him no.

He's pissing in the corner. 

It's not an overreaction. It's a prediction.
But hell, the doctors say my husband and I are gonna die in the next four years. 

And if social security and Medicaid get shut down in the next few months, well shit, I probably won't see my 46th birthday in August. 

But this blog may survive. 

Maybe someone in Switzerland will read this one day and say, "Oh look, an American knew and cared but didn't have the power to do a damn thing about it."

(Additional follow-up from March 18, 2025: )

Apple Tree #atozchallenge 2025 memory

This tree is my brother. 🍎🌳

For Halloween one year, he trick-or-treated as an apple tree. My mom made the costume. Those are red apples on his cheeks.

He was freaking adorable. People loved the costume.

My brother absolutely hates that I have all these cute pictures of him as a child. 😂

Revenge of the older sister!! Ha ha ha.

I love him. 

2025 Theme Reveal #AtoZChallenge Bloghop

Please check out the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge
#AtoZChallenge
a-to-zchallenge.com


My theme this year is going to be memories. A sort of alphabet of an autobiography, if you will. 

It's what we are, and one never knows when they could be gone. So I'll put some here. Hopefully they'll be interesting. 

WEP Kitchen Counters and the Refrigerated Kind #WEPFF

Hello reader! Today's post has three parts. First, a memory and why I'm so excited about this challenge. Second, the flash fiction, which is mostly meant to be funny, but is a slight commentary on how beliefs factor into arguments. And third is an info dump of knowledge related to the prompt.

💝🤵👰🔔 Wedding day memory:

Close Encounters was one of my mom's (RIP) favorite movies. Her mobile phone was an ancient slide-open, not smartphone. (Morpheus had one in The Matrix.) You couldn't add ringtones, you used one of the dozen offered in the menu. The tones from the Close Encounter movie, "🎵 do do do do do" was her ringtone (and notification sound, alarm sound, etc). By April 2007, when I got married, no one else I knew still had one of those phones. Everyone else had smartphones with specialized ringtones. So, when you heard the sound from the movie, you knew "the aliens are contacting mom!" 

Also, everyone else I knew hit "silent mode" for events like a wedding. 

There I am, up on the altar of the church, holding my groom's hands, the Pastor reciting from the Bible. 

"🎵 Do do do do do"

*Must not laugh*

"🎵 Do do do do do"

I hear my brother trying to stiffle his laugh. *Must not laugh. Must not look at Kevin. Will not be able to contain laugh if I look at brother.* 

"🎵 Do do do do do"

We can hear my mom reaching down her dress, because she always kept her phone in her bra. Apparently, my wedding day was no exception! (No, the phone didn't have a camera. No, it was not one of her bosses calling.) It was the alarm on her phone she had set to go pick my brother up for work. Mind you, he was now out of high school and had his own vehicle and she hadn't picked him up in years. But she kept the alarm because she liked the reminder that it was that time of day. (The way Church bells used to ring out at noon to mark the time. But this was more like 2:30.) 

She managed to shut it off. My brother and I managed (barely) to contain ourselves until after the ceremony. And then lost it in the receiving line as guests were exiting, and someone asked me what the "kinda familiar music" was during the ceremony. 🤣🤣😄😄😄😄😅

Wedding Day back in 2007. There's my mom beside me.

So, yeah, when I saw this prompt, that was the first thought to spring to mind. And I have been waiting for months to share that with you, dear reader. I hope you're giggling. I'm grateful for that memory. That's really who my mom was; she could make you laugh even at the most serious moment, sometimes without trying. 

The Flash Fiction:

Kitchen Counters and the Refrigerated Kind

By Jamie

687 words MPA

Tag: What if you're an alien to those in your refrigerator? 

🥔

"Russet, Russet, did you see that? In the light. There was a form." 

"My eyes are not what they once were, though I have more of them now. Listen, Spud, we're not meant to know what happens in the light." 

"What's all this commotion?" Water asked.

"Spud sprouted new eyes today, Water Sir, and thinks he saw something while the Great Light was on," Russet answered.

Gasps and murmurs came from the other occupants. 

Vanilla Yogurt rumbled, "We are not to observe the goings on when the Great Light is lit. That simply isn't done. If you had cultures, as I do, you would know this. Your kind does not belong here." 

"I'm in my proper drawer!" Spud cried. "I came to this place, same as you. And have been a resident longer."

"Butterworth. Butterworth! Ketchup, nudge her for me, will you?" Vanilla Yogurt waited while the door condiments woke the ancient syrup. 

"Yes, child?"

"You have survived here the longest. Does Spud belong?" 

The syrup teetered side to side for a moment. "It is not for us to say. That is for the being who comes in the light." 

More gasps came from the residents. 

"Butterworth, surely you do not believe in such stories?" Vanilla Yogurt asked, appalled at the idea. 

"Look to the one beside you. Once, she was filled with a butter spread. Now? Leftovers." 

The container wept. "It's true! I went to a hot, wet place, where everything in me was taken away. Then a dark, dry place, with other containers who once lived here. And then a different food was put in me. I returned here. And then I was put in a horrible place where heat shook me to my molecules. Then the food was gone. Then back to the wet place, the dark place, refilled with food, and here I am again. I don't know who I am anymore!" 

A voice squeaked from the smaller drawer in the middle. "I was once huge. But now, only a little of me remains. I am taken by the being in the Great Light, shoved against something sharp, and bits of me shred away. See the marks?" 

Vanilla Yogurt huffed. "Yes, Cheese, we've all heard your complaints and threats to spread mold to us all. The fact remains that Spud and Russet do not belong here. Italian Dressing, certainly you know what I mean." 

A thick accent accompanied the response from the door resident. "Ah, SÌ, but nor does Baby Tomato. Look at my label. Refrigerate after opening. See Baby Tomato? Do not refrigerate. The mark of one who does not belong." 

Cries came from the container as the babies suffered from the insult and truth. "Our flavor, texture, and scent! The volatiles are suffering." 

"Spud, what does your label say?" Vanilla Yogurt asked. 

Russet mumbled, "Cool, dark place. This drawer is cool. And, until the Great Light comes on, it's dark."

"Your starch turns to sugar in here," Water said. 

"That is old thinking. We're in here to avoid going bad," Russet said.

"You're covered in old eyes and leaking. How's that working out for you?" Water spoke with a mocking tone.

"We are not the problem. The being in the Great Light is. We have encounters where the being just turns on the light. And ones where it leaves another resident. Times that it shuffles us around, checking us, but taking none. And other times that we are taken forever." Russet summarized.

Butterworth piped up. "And a fifth encounter. When all are removed while the being wipes down our entire home. Only some of us return, but any who survive never forget the foray between the world of our refrigerator and the terror of the kitchen counters. That is why the oldest of us all believe in the being." 

Concerned mutters filled the fridge. 

"This is nonsense," Vanilla Yogurt called out. "There is no being out there. We are only here. We come and go, our numbers always changing. But this is all there is. My cultures are offended by other suggestions. Live and active cultures! There is no higher wisdom." 

Info dump:

Tom Gauld's cultural cartoons

While thinking about inspiration, I wondered what the first and second kind were, as aliens were obviously the third. I was surprised to learn that it's all aliens, and the classification is actually about the type of contact. Stephen Spielberg paid Hynek a thousand dollars to use "of the Third Kind" in the movie title. 

Hynek's classifications:
(And story examples)

The First Kind: Something spotted in the sky but leaves no evidence.

(Spud claims to see a being in the Great Light.)

The Second Kind: A UFO leaves physical traces such as burns on the ground, crop circles, broken branches, etc.

(The being leaves a new resident.)

The Third Kind: Contact is made with a U.F.O and an alien lifeform. 👽

(Times the being shuffles the residents around without taking any.)

The Forth Kind: Alien abduction.

(The Butter Spread that was emptied, washed, filled with leftovers, heated, washed, put away, refilled with leftovers, and put back in the refrigerator.)

The Fifth Kind: Earth and an alien society have regular interactions and communications. 

(Butterworth is the nearest, knowing the being exists. But there's no real interaction/ communication. Feel free to go to your own fridge and chat with the residents there. 😉)

This scale was based on believing people who report encounters. It has been replaced. 

The International Astronautical Congress put together the Rio Scale.

It is a 1 to 10 scale and functions first to discredit anyone who reports encounters. For those who cannot be discredited (written off as whack-jobs 😵🤪), the scale then works to write off the event by blaming the weather, magnets, etc. 

By the way, I'M BACK ON TWITTER! @PenMinion

Did you know about the scales? Do you believe we aren't alone in the universe, that there could be another planet with a higher-intelligence lifeform out there?