Don't Fear

I'm seeing a trend lately, and I'm not sure if it's always been there, or if it's waxing and waning based on some weird criteria of the universe.

Death is an important thing. Some say it's the very thing that makes life so important; the conclusion and built-in timer creates value in the remaining seconds someone alive stays alive. Others see importance in the particulars surrounding the death experience, like the time or place or activity involved when death occurs.

I've met people who were denialists of death, thinking that they'd never have to deal with anyone close to them dying, like a pet or older friend. Usually there's just something else more important to deal with, or something more up front and center to occupy their thoughts. There's dinner plans to make, or school, or work, or kids, or entertainment, or whatever. These kinds of people are usually the ones most shocked when someone close to them does meet with destiny and dies.

The other extreme isn't any healthier, of course, those who brood on death and all the implications therein have similarly bad reactions to oblivion. I fit into this category, I fear, in that I tend to see things as being temporary. The building across the street will one day be torn down to allow another building to go up. The old hobo begging for change on the corner will soon expire, probably unseen and unknown. Technically one day our sun will explode into something none of us could ever escape, and therefore most of what we do is essentially without meaning since there is no permenance.

But the trend I was speaking of earlier: I have seen more and more people dip and stay into this latter group. We tend to be romantic (but not in the good way), shy (since we usually don't see a reason in making new friends if they're just gonna die anyway), and introspective (maybe there is life after death, right? well, maybe not...). I know rationally acting this way is silly, since I may as well make the most of my very short lifespan, but there are times when things just get so _heavy_, ya know?

The other day I was at a wedding, which should be a very uplifting and momentous occasion. During the reception and drinking time afterwards, a group of friends were standing around talking, and one mentioned to another how they were upset every time they catch themselves doing a physical action like their father, such as crossing their arms a certain way, or saying a phrase in the same voice. They were really mad about it, and it became the topic for a few minutes.

I couldn't help it, I got a little choked up and walked away.

I wanted to yell at them. I wanted to point out that their fathers' time is limited, that they should cherish every second they still have with them. Well, maybe not seconds, but you know, they shouldn't look crossly at the connection they have with their parents.

But then I remembered how morose I am at times, and I also remembered that some people just don't like their parents. I also remembered that my Dad passed only recently, and the wound is still fresh. I didn't want to be that guy.

But sometimes I am that guy.

It's hell getting old

I decided recently that my car just isn't going to last me long enough to get to the farm. The front end is shaking badly, the tires are nearly bald, brakes need replaced, etc etc etc etc etc.

So I went to my friendly neighborhood car dealership, the kind that lets you borrow money if you're a poor bastard like me, you know, the buy here pay here kind... Anyway, we looked at my credit report, looked at some cars, and they were really willing to work with me. It was surprising, considering how really shitty my credit is and always has been. I don't know if it would have really gone all the way to a scene of me driving something off the lot, but it was something I needed to experience.

I needed to know if all hope was lost yet. I needed to know if they would have just laughed me out of the building. There was a time when I had no credit (which they say is worse than having bad credit, but we all know that's a load of bull), and I had to use a co-signer for a car. Technically, my dad was the initial loanee and I was his cosigner (made the interest rate on the loan better), but I made all the payments. That was my first real newer car, and I loved it. Then Dad filed bankruptcy and the car got repo'd as if I was just a side-show fool.

So now I'm working through all my debt, awakened by the idea that someone may one day actually let me buy a car that doesn't shimmy down the road. I might one day drive a car that has a radio that wasn't stolen, windshield wipers that actually move, and the car may also be eerily silent (the one I have now always sounds like a big bird fight is happening in the back seat). I've got repayment plans all happening at once, we're eating less expensive food (hence the lack of anything cool on my food blog), and we're trying to make it to July.

July will be the last payment to the company who now owns the loan on the Saab. The Saab was the car that decided to have a cracked head gasket after a long trip to Tennessee. It still ran, but smoked terribly. No one wanted to touch it or even look at it for less than $2k. So I let them take it back.

The car I'm driving now is a lot like me. It has parts that are loose and things that are broken and neglected. It makes weird noises, but still gets to work every day. It never fails to start, but it's hard to steer. It's getting older, and the frame is all but rusted away completely. One day (hopefully in August!) it'll be replaced by something smaller and faster and cleaner and consumes less fuel, but until then it dutifully clangs down the road.