Week 34

     Earlier today, while sitting in a movie, I excused myself for a restroom break during a particularly predictable montage scene. Poor theatre design made it so that I'd have to take an awkward stroll past the front row in order to make my exit. As I made my way, I noticed the lone occupant of the row, a man in a wheelchair, take notice of my awkward stroll, and proceed to back away from the path. Now, there had to be 50 to 60 feet between the row and the screen, and good 10 feet between my path and his feet, yet here was this guy, obviously dealt a shitty hand in an even shittier world worried that he was going to be an inconvenience to me. How about that?

     Mortality is a thing. No matter how much we may not want to acknowledge it, we are all going to die someday, and in the immortal words of Tyler Durden, "...until you know that, you are useless." Now, other than perhaps the fear of not knowing what comes next, the biggest fear surrounding death is the thought of dying alone. But this is a moot point. Whether we died curled up in our bed, or on a bus full of fellow screaming, pants-shitting individuals, when things go black, we have only ourselves. And with that being the case, I tend to worry more about how I shall be remembered when I'm gone. That is, if I'm remembered at all.  

     I can almost guarantee that no one will remember me in the way that I imagined I will be remembered. But I guess that's because we mean different things to different people. And depending on the timing and circumstances of my ultimate demise some may choose to wipe me from memory completely. One look at me and it's clear as day that I have never taken care of myself, and if I were to pass soon, sure some might say "How sad. Poor thing." But most would shake their heads in secret and feign surprise when they heard the news. Perhaps that is why it's so important to me that I do things worth remembering while I'm here. Otis Redding was my age (26) when he died, and he's considered to be one of the greatest voices of all time. If I died before my next keystroke, what is the first thought that would go through people's minds? 

    You know, I live for the movies, but to this day, I have yet to make one. I don't play the piano, nor do I sing vocals for a band like Postmodern Jukebox. I don't know French or Spanish, nor have I earned the right to call myself a writer. I haven't taken a wife, had kids, or found one of my true loves. I can think of nothing but all of the things that I haven't done. And perhaps that is the way it is for most people. Thing is, I recognize that I'm already on borrowed time, which is something most probably can't say. I need to get started on my life. And perhaps, so do you.