But instead, I’m pirating from myself. So I have this really good friend who is mostly bored to death with what most people do for fun (
strip clubs, TV, movies, the bar…) and likes to discuss deep shit. I mean Deep Shit: he persistently asks me hard questions. Not rocket-science or calculus or how to bake a Duff cake successfully…oh no. Not one query has been a random bit of trivia or fact I can just go look up…that’d be far too easy.
I mean hard like “what exactly does it mean to LOVE someone (for example, does Love include NEEDING someone, or do we get those mixed up)” and other sorts of philosophical and ethical issues that occasionally exhaust me. However, they’ve been fabulous distractions while Husband’s been in the hospital, because honestly TV can only get a girl so far when she’s lonely and bored at home late at night. Plus, late night TV fucking sucks donkey parts. Bo-Ring.
So…recently he posed the following: if I knew I was going to die “soon” what would I do and why? It’s SORT of a bucket-list question, and sort of not…I mean, soon could be tomorrow or a month from now or a year from now, right? I suspect he was looking for how I prioritized them, but that’s a different post.
- I would write, because it’s a need I can’t ignore (without harm to my brainpan).
- I’d read, because there’s still so much I want to learn.
- I’d go back to Ireland. It’s the only place I’ve ever been that truly felt like home the MOMENT I stepped off the ferry. I would take the people I love there so I could (selfishly) have everyone I love in the place I feel most whole.
- I would spend as much time touching the people I love as possible, because I’m not great at verbalizing but I AM good at cuddling and I want to be in their presence. While that could include sex it doesn’t need to: sex is significantly better if there’s love because of the intimacy that comes from love. So I wouldn’t waste time fucking everything that moves, but sex as a physical expression of the love I feel for my beloved would be neat.
- I would swim in the ocean. Any ocean. I can spend entire vacations just sitting on the beach, listening: it both stirs and calms me. (Also, thank you Spellcheck for catching that I wrote “clams” instead of “calms” because seriously…that could’ve been awkward.)
- I would cuddle with my dogs and ride horses more. I don’t give the boys nearly enough of my time, love or attention, and they deserve it.
- I would dance. I’m not a superstar bellydancer, and I loathe performing…I bellydance because it makes me feel powerfully female. That’s rare and precious.
Of course, thinking about all of this makes me wonder: if I knew when Death will knock on my door, would I tell anyone how much time I had left?
One thought on “My 250th Post Should Have Substance, right? (or, shit I’d do if Death was comin’ to GET me)”
I would tell everyone. I'd be all, \”I can't wait in line at Caribou, I'm DYING people!\”. Then I would spend whole bunches of time snorkeling. Also, i would probably diet so I'd look good in my coffin (kidding! I'm sure they could lipo my corpse…)