Monday, July 16, 2007

the problem with my legacy

see, the problem i have is that you have to die in order to leave behind a legacy.
the legacy, i'm fine with. people saying or writing nice things about my great accomplishments
is right up my alley. it's the dying that i'm not quite cool with just yet.

sure, everyone has to do it i guess.
i mean, die. everyone has to. i know a few people who have.
some knew it in advance. only one was pissed. i'm gonna be like that guy.


his problem was, i think, that he hadn't done anything yet. nothing particularly notable.
he was married, had two grown sons and had retired not long before learning of his impending
doom.
many people will argue that he had done exactly what he was put on earth to do...marry,
have children, raise said children into adulthood and then, apparently, croak over and die.
and right after his retirement! what a gyp right?
i didn't know him very well so i didn't know his entire life plan but when he died i couldn't
help but wonder if he had done ANY of the things he set out to do. what were the things he didn't
do? did he have a list?


it reminds of me that question that they always have in those stupid myspace surveys, or those
little games you play at cocktail parties that are meant to be fun but in fact are actually
quite morbid. you know those ones. the if you had to lose a limb which would you pick?
if you were on a sinking ship and could only save one of your children which would you let
drown? if you were going to die in a week what would you do/where would you go/who would you bang?
games.
holy mother i hate those.
i never know what to say. i always want to say "i know what i wouldn't do...i wouldn't waste my last
week of life going to stupid cocktail parties that's for damn sure" but i never do because i'm not
that brave.

*sidebar
did you know, that one time i was at a party and we played this game, and one of the women said that
she would spend her last week of life volunteering at an animal shelter. she shouted the question out
to her friend who was in the kitchen making a drink, and the friend shouted back "screw that shit, i'd
spend all week vag deep in a box of vibrators!"
true story.


and then i think of the ones who didn't really have the luxury of knowing in advance that they were
about to shuffle off their mortal coil. luxury...can you even call it that?
the ones that didn't expect it, well...i can't speculate. despite what i may have lead you to
believe in the past i'm not psychic. but i can tell you, had they known exactly where when
and how they would have had some beef with it. i can't imagine anyone being totally comfortable
with the fact that they were going to die. there is no reference point. all the people you know
who have died are still dead. i mean, it's not like a tattoo or something. it's not like you can ask
them if it hurt or not.


i guess what i'm trying to say is...
i have no idea what i'm trying to say.
all i know is that i think about death too often and it freaks me out everytime.

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