Which, I suppose, explains the headaches... But no really. If there's any advantage to being holed up in my house with naught but my computer and various books for amusement, I've had a lot of time to think about things. Recently, given current events and holidays, my mind has mostly been preoccupied with the idea of love and the idea of death. Particularly death, since that's a bit more real for me now. Love is still a fairy-tale. I've realized that I'm not afraid of death. I by no means want to die. And I know that I'm not going to anytime soon. I still have a lot of stuff to do. But I've accepted that I will eventually die. And there's a pretty good chance I'll die before a lot of people my age. If something goes wrong in the hospital or if I get an infection. Or if the cancer comes back in any number of years, more malignant and spreading. While fairly unlikely, there is always that chance, that nagging doubt of complete remission. In terms of dying though, I've decided that if I can look back on everything that I've done so far and be happy with it, then it's okay. I figure people are only afraid of death because they feel their lives are incomplete; they have regrets. I am 20 years old. I still have a good number of years ahead to make bad choices. But as of now, I'm happy with what I've done so far. I mean, how many 20-year olds can say that in the same year, they were in a band, bartended, drank South African wine in southern France, drank Dutch beer on a rock in northern Ontario, worked full time at fantastic jobs in addition to school, and got cancer? I mean, come on, who does that? So, if I died any time soon, it would totally suck, but it would be okay. I think also that the fear of death is strongly associated with our fears of being forgotten. It's kind of like, if no one remembers you or anything you've done, what have you accomplished with your life? For the most part, we remember those who made an impact on other people, whether through words or actions or even personalities. Shakespeare, Lincoln, Nixon. Hell, Nixon helped shift the mentality of an entire country. In terms of me though, I have a written account of the person I was and am. I have pages and pages of ink exhibiting various stages of handwriting. Depression, happiness, boredom, pretty much every emotion you can think of, are all chronicled in variously sized notebooks. Even if no one ever reads them (which I hope someone does), my words will live on. And now, with this blog bit, some of them are accessible to people I've never met. But maybe something I say will mean something to them. Maybe not; it's kind of a crap shoot. But to die knowing that you have no regrets and that people will remember you for one reason or another, hopefully a pleasant one, I feel that's a pretty good goal to have. I'm pretty close to that goal now, and I hope to always be, no matter where my life takes me.
And that's my insight for the day. I don't know, I was at clinic this morning, and some of the people there are so sick. It's terrible because you know they're in pain. And it made me wonder, for the ones whose chemo doesn't work, are they afraid of dying? I don't know. I hope not. Anyway, death hasn't been the only thing on my mind. But I won't subject anyone to more musings. If you're interested in what I have to say, call. I'll come up with something mildly philosophic and insightful, just enough so that you're fooled into thinking I'm intelligent. (Don't tell, but most of the time I'm faking.) So that's it for today. Enjoy the long weekend. pax.