On morbid thoughts and foxes on the highway

What a weird day it's been. Michael's great-uncle is dying and we got a text this morning about his failing health. His mom suggested we come over and say our goodbyes. When we got there, the atmosphere was so depressing and quiet. I wanted to stop pretending the elephant in the room wasn't there and just ask the man what it felt like. What does it feel like to be terminally ill and know that your death is quickly impending? Could you come to terms with it and honestly think of it as a relief, or would you be scared up until the last second? I've only known this man for 3 years, and I wasn't sure what to say to him. I told him I loved him and that I was so glad to have met him and had him as part of my family. I couldn't help but cry when I told him goodbye.

Not to sound morbid, but this has made me think about death a lot lately. I have always been afraid of death. Not just my own, but death of my loved ones and the way death can happen to anyone, at anytime. Michael and I discussed how we would want to die if we had forewarning. He wouldn't want anyone but me and Molly there for the duration. He would want friends to come see him well before, but he says he doesn't want to die while being stared at by loved ones who don't know how to comfort a dying man.
I feel the same way. Ideally, I would be able to say goodbye to all my friends and family beforehand and just have Michael and Molly there with me. I think dying would feel like being on a crazy drug. Trying to grasp the thought of ceasing to be, no longer living--God, that is enormous.

I think back to a scene from The Doors' documentary (narrated by Johnny Depp) where Jim Morrison sees a dying fox on the side of highway. The fox is hyperventilating, struggling for air. He's been hit by a car. Jim pulls over and places a scarf over the fox's face, then drives away. A small gesture, sure, but the point is, Jim gave the fox a little privacy and solace in which to die in. No, it doesn't matter in the scheme of things; the fox is still dying on the side of some road. But that scene affected me when I saw it.

I'll just be over here, living and breathing and trying not to take it for granted. Good day.

Forget YOLO. Try SYOLOBYLIMITOL. Translation: inside.

SYOLOBYLIMITOL: Sure, you only live once but you live infinite moments inside that one life.

I know you're sick of YOLO. I am, too. But I think it's a good concept, sort of. Yes, you only live once. But that sounds so limited. That's putting the billions of Kodak-worthy, tear-jerking, awe-inspiring moments that make up our Earth experience into a tiny box labelled "Life."

I don't believe in that. I think it would take billions of boxes of varying shapes, colors and sizes to accurately sum up what we call life. Living isn't about how many times you get to do it (We get it, once) but about what happens during that time span. So don't think of "I only get one opportunity to get "life" right", but rather "I wake up every morning with a brand spanking new set of options and possibilities, and I want to take advantage of as many as I can." Make sense? Maybe I'm just rambling (wouldn't be the first time), but this thought kept me awake last night (having The Motto stuck in my head didn't help). I will cut Drake some slack on this one, because I think he gets the general concept: he also sings "Everybody dies, but not everybody lives".

Enough about Canadian rappers who used to star in my favorite (only) Canadian TV show, Degrassi, as a teen crippled by a pyscho's shooting at school. I just want to say, Drake's real name is Aubrey Graham. Seriously. He had no option but to go by something different. Aubrey is a little too ballet and not enough ghetto.


Today Michael and I took Molly to the creek, a little spot called Paradise. We brought along her little pink plastic pool and some balls and buckets (and tons of sunscreen) and had some sopping wet, blistering hot fun. It was REALLY fun when Molly pointed to the water we were playing in and said "Fish, look Mama, a fish!" The fish was indeed there, but also very dead. Disgustingly dead. Puffed and bloated and not at all like the friendly fish Molly thought it was. Anyway. We ate some watermelon and bananas and I may or may not have laid (lay?) down in the plastic pool and worked on my tan. Keep in mind that me laying in the pool makes it off limits to Molly. Not because I wouldn't allow it or anything, but because the pool is literally not big enough for the two of us.

This blog is so therapeutic for me because I don't have to bore Michael with my thoughts now (as much); I can write them on here and there is always a small chance that someone might a)agree b)laugh c)care d)decide I need to be featured in a popular magazine with a monthly column and a big paycheck.

Thanks for reading my innermost thoughts (how sad is it that Drake occupies those?).

Debra

On restraining yourself and getting jailed, potentially

Molly's party on Saturday was so much fun. We got to go out on the boat, jump off some cliffs, some people got to ride my uncle's jetski (not me though) and everyone ate some awesome all-American food. All while celebrating Molly's age advancement! Thanks to everyone for coming and bringing stuff to help us out! I love having a big family for gatherings like this.

Patch update: Molly didn't wear one at her party, and she has been taking a patch off at least once every 15 minutes. We have literally gone through 12 patches TODAY ALONE. It is now 12:35. This could be a problem.

I was so glad that two of my friends were able to come to Molly's party. My oldest friend and her sister (and nephew--he seriously made my womb ache for another child) came along with one of my best friends and her fiance.

I've been thinking about something today, just sort of mulling it over. Why do we put so many constraints on ourselves? I am split down the middle on this one. Part of me believes that it is necessary for us, as human beings living in an organized society, to voluntarily restrain some of our more basal instincts in order to keep society running relatively smoothly. Another part of me thinks we inherently crave danger and need risks and spontaneous behavior to fully "be human" and act like what we are. But on the first point, think of the chaos (anarchy) that would ensue if we all followed our desires without inhibition. Sure, you might experience some moments of pure pleasure, but the orderliness and safety that we so need and seek in society would be dead the moment we all thew caution to the wind.

On the other hand, restraining our basic desires can be negative. We are, in a way, denying part of ourselves (anyone remember the Id?) and that can be stressful. It can even lead to depression. I've come to the conclusion that the best way to handle this is balance, moderation being key. Take some moments in life to be ridiculous, and others to act like your grandmother.

Perhaps Usher and Ludacris said it best when they sang "We want a lady in the streets, but a freak in the sheets" on Yeah. I'm not ordering you to be a freak in the sheets, or even a lady in the streets. I'm just saying that for the most part, other people prefer the midway, the median, the middle. You don't choose the craziest muhfuh in the room to be your best friend, nor the weirdo in the corner that doesn't speak to anyone. You choose the cool guy who makes his rounds and knows how to have a good time without getting jailed or killed. Unless getting jailed and killed is your sort of thing.

Now, on to the real purpose for this post: Does anyone have a copy of 50 Shades of Gray for me to borrow? I will return it with no weird stains or page folds.

Sincerely, Debra Diane (NOT Diana, like I used to pretend)