6/15/04 2:51am

watch this:

i am worldly and philosophical.

people fear death because we fear the unknown, or, more specifically, the unknown infinity. it is a concept we, as mortal beings, are incapable of grasping. everything in our known world has a beginning, middle, and end. the idea of a never-ending middle is so vast, so immensely impossible that we are unable to comprehend its reality. thoughts of eternity and immeasurable space must quickly be stamped out with the blanket statement, "big," else we are overwhelmed by sheer magnitude of the concept of forever.

there is a definite power shift when it comes to death. we have no real power to escape or prepare or really know anything before it takes hold of us, and it lurks at every turn; the universally permanent answer to innumerable lives brimming with questions of every size and color. many choose to believe in a higher power that will allow us to continue living as we know it or as we so choose. on the same token, many choose to believe no such power exists. both theories safely place the power of choice of fate back in our desperate comfort zone: our own mortal hands.

suddenly, a quick change of pronouns and i am a confused, frightened, disoriented little girl.

i am afraid of death because i am afraid of the unknown, or, more specifically, eternity. i can't wrap my mind around it, and that scares me. i have no real control over it and i don't understand it enough to be adequately prepared. as obsessive compulsive as i am, being underprepared indicates to me a sure sign of complete and utter failure. my logos, my ethos, my abstract can't grasp it; i'm screwed. i manage to answer one question and ten crop up; the closer i come to some answers, the more i dread my own fate.

what is eternity? won't i be bored? will i be happy? what is eternal happiness? doesn't that get boring? is there spice in forever? has the only bliss i have ever experienced been fleeting after only a moment's time? why? why am i so cynical when so many others manage to believe so easily? will my doubts send me to hell? or worse: will my doubts be proved true? what is eternal pain? what is the point of life if i'm only going to cease to exist again?

i'm most terrified of this last one.
i can grasp the fingertip of bliss: my first kiss, spinning in the sunlight, dancing in the rain, driving... i can catch a toehold of torture: one sick day in seventh grade when it was all still so new and irregular and i hadn't yet discovered pamprin and heating pads and every move made the steady throbbing from my ribs to my knees intensify, even when i moved back to the same position. but nothingness? i can't do it. it scares me.

and now, the source of such a strain of thought:

considering the habits of my family and family friends, let alone my job, it's no surprise that i am no stranger to death. and perhaps it helps to explain the consistent thought on the subject as i grow ever-slowly more comfortable with at the very least its existence next to me in life. but it always takes me by surprise, always shocks me with my own reaction, my own way of dealing, my own crumbling heart at the sight of others suffering the ultimate loss.

today i'm thinking of george brewster. he was a senior my freshman year. he died this weekend in a car crash. he was driving drunk.

this is ironic because i most remember him as the guy who was cast as the lead in west side story until he skipped school and came to practice drunk. he was booted from the show and brad wright was thrown into the role of tony two weeks before opening night.

i only remember him personally from panther that fall. i was still brand new to maryland, let alone high school, and he was one of the invincible seniors that owned the place i would years later call home. he was obscenely tall and broad in my eyes, extremely talented, and more than a little bit cocky. he was one of those seniors that made it all too easy to believe seniors had never been freshmen and freshmen would never ever achieve seniordom. my wide, fourteen-year-old newkid eyes saw him as confident, popular, and very aware of his status within the department. i didn't like him much.

but he was real to the point of being mythical, a figure of my very first impressions of high school; a symbol of all i never imagined i would become. he had enough raw talent, ego, charisma, all that he would have needed to get himself somewhere. anywhere. but fate or choice or both together took another violently sharp turn and i'm convinced again God has a very black sense of humor.

but some ironies in life are simply not funny.

...even if you have a twisted sense of humor like me.

~~~~~

p.s. read this. it's beautiful. and it gives him his due as a person. something an outsider with only a couple flashes of four-year-old observation cannot do.

ink :: graphite