Over 300 years ago when I was King of the Vampires no one wanted to come into my country. I did not care except for one bad winter when my people were going hungry. I antagonized the ruler of a neighboring land. He sent in a large army of hot blooded men. My people were well fed for the rest of the winter and saved.
I miss those times.
Why was I not told that putting a blow dryer in the sink would cause me to be electrocuted? Until four years ago I did not even know what the word or the very concept of electrocution was.
The blow dryer is an amazing invention that I could have never imagined in my previous life before I was locked in a crypt for 300 years. There has been so much I have missed out on.
There is so much I still do not understand. How was I supposed to know about the dangers of electricity? Why did not anyone tell me of this?
Gillian, my Vampire lover, had left her blow dryer out in my bathroom. A bathroom is another modern marvel that I shall go into sometime in the future. My hair was wet. It is winter. I used the blow dryer.
Several hours later Gillian was shaking my shoulder and calling my name. I was on the bathroom floor. Apparently I had the water running in the sink and somehow the blow dryer became wet.
“Had you been a normal person you’d be dead,” Gillian scolded me.
“By what do you mean a normal person,” I asked her.
“Not a Vampire. I swear Vlad you must be more careful,” she said. “Water and electricity do not mix. EVER.”
“Thank you for telling me,” I said as she helped me up.
She scowled at my sarcastic tone. Women are like that. They give one that look. The look is not a modern thing. It has been going on since time began.
“How does my hair look?” I had to ask.
“Perfect. Your hair always looks perfect,” she said, then she left the room.
I do not understand women anymore than I understand electricity.
I find myself locked out of everything. Not with a key. No, not a key. I am locked out with passwords that do not work.
At one time I, as the King of Vampires, gave out secret passwords for the safety of my kingdom. If I gave one of my subjects a special word I would not then tell him that the word was wrong and that he could not use the same word again and that I would lock him out for thirty minutes no matter how desperate he was to get inside.
No, in this insane world I find myself in I am forced to live in what they call a VIRTUAL world. That means a world where everything is invisible to me. There are no people. There is no help. I am forced to do all of my business in a maze of darkness in which I have no control.
My bank said I had to change my password for my own security. I changed it. Then they said I could not use the new password. Then they said I must have 8 letters, at least one capital letter, and several symbols. I could not use an old password. I put in a new password. They said it would not work and locked me out.
My friend Randolpho said all of his passwords are “Fuckyousuckdick!”
I told Randolpho that he was vulgar and it would end up haunting him. He then told me that he never has problems with his passwords. I find that difficult to believe.
Each time I get on the Internet I must change passwords. Security questions ask things I know nothing of. I did not go to high school. It does not believe my first pet was a unicorn. It asks me questions of things I do not know or have no experience in. Or it will not believe my answers. It. What is it?
One day Randolpho attempted to explain that the brain in a computer was dots and dashes. What are dots and dashes I asked. He could not answer. I think he is, what do they say, pulling my leg. He is telling lies. It is like alchemy. No man can make gold out of nothing. Something is going on that I do not understand. One day I shall find the answer. Maybe not.
I have to admit that a small plastic card is easier than carrying around several pounds of gold coins.
I was out one night, my heart pumping new blood, having a glass of wine when someone caught my attention. Some men were discussing floppy disks in one of those games where they remember their childhood.
“Is that a kind of Frisbee?” I asked. I do know what a Frisbee is. I have friends who have dogs. Dogs love to play with Frisbee disks. My friend Randolpho plays Frisbee Golf in the park with his odd friends.
One of the men laughed and said, “You Millennials are all alike.”
I am 675 years old a far cry from being a millennium old. A thousand years. Yes, it is creeping up on me but I do not look that old.
I asked my love Gillian if I looked ancient or worn out.
“Vlad you always look amazingly good,” she told me.
“Do I look like I am a thousand years old?” I asked.
“No Vlad, you look like you’re about thirty, maybe thirty-two at oldest. You could even pass for younger if you wanted to.”
“Then why,” I asked her, “why did someone call me a millennial?”
Gillian smiled the kind of smile she reserves for children, and for me when I say something wrong.
“Vlad,” she said, “a Millennial is someone born at the turn of the 21st Century. Someone born more or less between the years 1980 and 2000.”
“Have we come to this where we are judged by the years in which we were born. Is this some sort of sooth saying like those who read stars? I thought we were beyond that sort of thing in the 21st Century.”
“It has nothing to do with that. Society and technology changes so fast. Since the Baby Boomers each generation has had their own name.”
“Baby Boomers?” What fresh Hell was that? She did not answer. I think she was done with me. I still found this slightly confusing and somewhat annoying. “So I know nothing,” I said.
“You know more than you give yourself credit for my darling, sweet, precious Vampire,” she said and then kissed me. “There is hope. You are now by default part of the generation that will make things better.”
“Better than what?”
“I’m not sure yet, but they’ll do the right thing.”
I did not argue. I am a Millennial with the soul of an ancient relic. I can only attempt to learn and teach others to learn from the mistakes of history.
Today I learned that some people do what is called living off of the grid. That is without the Internet or many other modern marvels. They do not wish to be found or seen. They wish a simple time.
I lived in a simple time, but it was not all that simple. People smelled bad, which was awful for Vampires like me. Now our food smells a lot better.
I could go on and on. My point is that when life is good for people then life is good for Vampires. I shall be a crusader for social justice if that is what it would take for all Vampires to have safe and reliable blood sources. You see, I have the mind of a leader for my people, even though I am no longer King of Vampires.
Without the duties of a leader, aside from feeding my cats, I have few beings who depend on me anymore. It is lonely at times, even for a Vampire.
Only to you Dear Diary do I admit this because I am admitting it to just myself.
In the meantime I have made of list of things I must try to understand.
- The meaning of the word cute.
- Avocado toast.
- Fusion in reference to everything
- The Dark Web
- Bone Broth
- Soundcloud (that is thunder or maybe not)
- Beard wax
- Helicopter Parents
- Blue hair
- What is a Nickleback and why do people seem to despise it?
I should try to stop this torture in my brain and read a book or just turn on Netflix.
Netflix is something we did not have in my old Vampire castle. Maybe change is good. Like cats. Cats are good.
Cats are always good, no matter how old one is. Especially if one is a Vampire.
Kissed by a Vampire