I didn't mention this earlier because it was way too early to talk about life, the universe, and everything, but it's later now and five hours of sleep is a great way to approach stuff like this.
I spent an hour Tuesday afternoon looking for Christina's headstone at Capilano Cemetery with Justin (such a good sport, that guy) before we gave up and decided to ask for directions, but ran across some interesting people in that time. (I liked Kent Castle -- is he a person or a palace? -- and the Broadfoots that are two rows and a few plots over from the Underhills.) Cemeteries used to frighten me when I was smaller and before my overactive imagination was resolutely killed off, but now I know I creep people out when I say I find them comforting; after all, no one in this life can screw up so badly that they won't end up in the same place as everyone else, right? Having a tasteful headstone helps, of course -- Chris' is classy! -- and with six billion people waiting to be interred at some point in the future, something of a luxury.
Is it a horrible thing to not have many expectations for the future any more? People keep asking me if I'm excited about going to New York; Justin asked me if I was afraid of dying young. In both cases, I feel thoroughly resigned: not ecstatic, not dismissive, just accepting. It's the direct opposite of carpe diem. The next question is whether this tranquility I'm affecting is a result of inner peace or the drugs that I'm on (and keep forgetting to take).
And on a completely unrelated train of thought, everyone should have a USB memory key. Give me geek chic over Hello Kitty cellphone ornaments or plushie keychains any day.
I spent an hour Tuesday afternoon looking for Christina's headstone at Capilano Cemetery with Justin (such a good sport, that guy) before we gave up and decided to ask for directions, but ran across some interesting people in that time. (I liked Kent Castle -- is he a person or a palace? -- and the Broadfoots that are two rows and a few plots over from the Underhills.) Cemeteries used to frighten me when I was smaller and before my overactive imagination was resolutely killed off, but now I know I creep people out when I say I find them comforting; after all, no one in this life can screw up so badly that they won't end up in the same place as everyone else, right? Having a tasteful headstone helps, of course -- Chris' is classy! -- and with six billion people waiting to be interred at some point in the future, something of a luxury.
Is it a horrible thing to not have many expectations for the future any more? People keep asking me if I'm excited about going to New York; Justin asked me if I was afraid of dying young. In both cases, I feel thoroughly resigned: not ecstatic, not dismissive, just accepting. It's the direct opposite of carpe diem. The next question is whether this tranquility I'm affecting is a result of inner peace or the drugs that I'm on (and keep forgetting to take).
And on a completely unrelated train of thought, everyone should have a USB memory key. Give me geek chic over Hello Kitty cellphone ornaments or plushie keychains any day.
