Everyone is dying. Now, evolutionary inevitabilities aside--and yes, global warming/terrorism/disease notwithstanding--there's been an awkwardly layered set of deaths the past few weeks, and this is not a trend that I'd like to see continue. The plague started with my great-grandmother last month (don't send me flowers--she was 104) and has since eveloped friends' mothers, one friend's grandmother, and nearly, but not quite, got its hands on another friend's grandmother the same morning. I am omitting names for obvious reasons, so if anyone would like to be identified by name, either post a comment or let me know.
All this dying has got me to thinking: what are we doing here? By that I don't mean to connote the hackneyed and ubiquitous "what the fuck is this life all about," but rather, the less hackneyed, slightly-less-ubiquitous, "what does the world expect from us before we die?" This has less to do with abstract symbolism and kafka-esque insectitude than it might let on; when you think about it, the question is this: we didn't ask to be here, and we're only here, moreover, because two people--who had no idea what we'd be like once we got here--decided to (or accidentally) put us here. So, in essence, do we have any responsibility? If we didn't ask in to the program, how much do we owe it, and how much obligation, if any, do we have to sustain it, perpetuate it, or even make it more pleasant than it already is?
Which brings me to my next point, and this one I will adorn with names. Evy, back from birthright (and with a shitload of tsfat pictures that threw me into a big, silent religious crisis), is still having trouble sleeping. She used to remedy insomnia with benadryl, which is Iroquois for "over the counter valium," yet ceased her cough syrup consumption when she started developing with it both a dependence and diary-worthy emotional connection. Still, her sleep remained somewhat intact towards the end of 2006, but started flaring up again before birthright. Not only can she not sleep now that she's back, but she told me about two startling developments:
1--when she was in israel she was sobbing in her sleep
2--crying might be an abberation, but she habitually talks/laughs/mutters while she's catatonic
As many of you might now, I am also burdened with insomnia, which I should kick before 9:30am classes begin on monday morning. But that is there--it is not here. So forget that.
All this talk of staying awake brings me back to my first point--everyone is dying. And now I mean in the broadest sense: we'll all be ex-animate one day, reduced to what people want to remember about us and less so what they don't. It's up to us to shape our respective legacies, and in doing so to affect something so indomitably present that our impact cannot be denied. For some, that will be a family. For others, a scientific or artistic achievement. And for a few, it will be something less glorious, like a cameo role in the incessant string of terrible UPN shows.
So why not stay awake, maybe accomplish a little bit more? I'm not endorsing insomnia, or even saying I enjoy having it, but there is something important about not always getting the sleep you need. Like Regina always tells me, balance is the key in everything, but if you told me that I couldn't attain balance in my sleep, the next best thing would be to get too little of it. Better to see more than to see less.
Stay soporific, home shopping network
DJ dozing on