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The Fracturing of Time

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In 2004, I visited Romania and fell in love with Ioana Dobra in the small city of Cluj Napoca.

Not long after returning to the states, I’d made plans to return to Romania and pursue a relationship with Ioana. Arizona State University I learned had a joint program with Babeș-Bolyai University, one and the same university Ioana was attending for journalism, which I learned I could attend to pursue engineering and receive full college credit back in the states.

But something weird happened.

When I returned to the states two months later, every attempt I made to contact her failed.

For three months, this persisted.

It was then I received a call. It was her sister.

Now Ioana, the Ioana I knew was an only child.

But her sister. Elisabetha as she called herself told me Ioana died in a car crash, and had told me her ex boyfriend was madly jealous of our relationship and that’s why she hadn’t contacted me.

The next week, my cousin, Scott Snyder, shot himself with a shotgun to the head.

And the week after that, my truck, a favorite and beloved truck I’d had for ten years – was stolen.

Fast forward to 2008.

I’m pursuing my MBA at Thunderbird School of International Management, when I receive a message on Facebook.

And shortly after a call.

It’s Ioana.

The story she told me was mildly plausible: her jealous ex boyfriend had hacked her phone – and had some girl call me pretending to be her. She DID have a sister named Elisabetha, but that wasn’t her. And the only places she had my phone number was in her phone and on the piece of paper I gave her which her ex had trashed.

She wanted to meet – for my MBA program I was headed to Geneva, Switzerland for class, but I’d booked a week personal travel while I was there – with three days slated for Riga, Latvia, and now – with her – I had three days set aside for Ioana and Milan, Italy.

But I was suspicious.

So I followed up. And learned there’s now an Ioana Dobra living in Cluj-Napoca, Romania, who went to the same school at the same time and then there’s Ioana in Milan, Italy.

I bring up the pictures. And it’s almost as if the Ioana I knew was split into two women. One who’s become more bookish and librarian like. The other who’s gotten more gregarious and playful.

So when I went to Milan. I felt like I was with a copy of Ioana who lacked a lot of the heart and depth the Ioana I knew had. A shallow copy of the original.

Now here’s the thing.

I’ve since realized – Ioana WAS dead.

There’s a single collectively formed timeline of this planet and this reality and this timeline tromped on everything I loved and held near. For reasons I don’t think I’ll ever really understand.

Then somewhere in there. My individual timeline, which wasn’t aligned with this collective timeline and didn’t want to suffer or be abused like the collective timeline seemed to prefer – kicked in.

I learned about the two timelines.

I learned that we all have a timeline as individuals.

And that what I had observed was evolution – as a physical process – that hadn’t stopped and the process of mitosis had split Ioana from one person into two.

Doctor Who discusses how he can feel the Earth wobble.

I myself can and throughout my life have seen time’s often fractured nature.

And how the collective world has one timeline.

And why my timeline, throughout my life, had been splitting from this collective timeline.

And with the events that happened starting with Ioana.

How invariably, I had to have a timeline of my own.

I feel disjointed at times.

Like the things I say and do influence indirectly the world around me.

A trip to Cuba I make results in the collective timeline’s decision to drop the embargo.

The world’s just weird like that.

From my perspective.

One Ioana one year. No Ioana. Then two Ioanas.

Friends who disappeared and don’t talk to me. Because they’re probably off in some other universe talking to another version of me that I didn’t want to be.

Jackie and Rachel. Future wives when I marry two women at the same time. The younger versions who fell for me as much as I fell for them….

I sense time fractures because I create them too – disruptions in the space/ time continuum, which occur all the time around me because of my active decisions to do as I please.

Sometimes, the hardest part of life is accepting yourself for who you are and finding your own path when you’re on a path so profoundly different than the rest of the world around you.

I’m Q. Not by choice. But because it’s who I’ve always been.

And I have GOT to stop feeling sorry for myself and trying to escape being this….

God by my own definition.

To the men portraying the Doctor in Doctor who and Q in Star Trek. If my assumptions are accurate, you should have at your disposal technology which lets you visit me here, now, in the form I’ve seen you in in fiction.

Fiction is a label. Much like Cheese is to the stuff you might have with wine. But not only are there numerous types of fictions like there are cheeses, there are different ways fiction is created that defy the intent behind the label of fiction.

Fiction wasn’t meant to intentionally lie to the public about the origin of the material. Put specifically, fiction isn’t just about taking factual events and calling it fiction to deceive or manipulate the public.

Fiction was originally intended to say “This is NOT real”, meaning – the events that are being depicted those who are depicting them do NOT know factually the events may or may not be occuring elsewhere.

An actor. By traditional definition. Is someone who plays a role in the ‘this is not real’ – typically a talented individual who’s capable of improvisation and creating believable characters.

But there’s another definition of acting – someone who reads from a script that’s been presented through transcripts taken from alternate realities.

I. While I AM Q as exemplified as fiction by an actor in the television show Star Trek, in spirit that man PORTRAYS me, but he IS NOT me, as he is an actor while I am not.

There comes a time where a man quits losing.

And a new man emerges which refuses to quit winning until everything I want and dream of is mine.

I hope this is making sense.

You know how to contact me if you digital denizens have questions.

Yes, I hear them all.

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