If you could learn the terms on which you die, would you seek the truth? Would you live the rest of your life knowing, counting, and expecting that dark mysterious Dead End? Or would you rather be dining at a friend’s, casually catching up over tea, when suddenly your own brain – your body and your soul and your mind – betrays you in an act of poor circulation and sends you face-first into your tea cake, vomiting and spewing into oblivion.. and then no more? What if the last thing you knew was that friend’s face, that piece of gossip, and that tea? And depending on site of lesion, perhaps you knew just then, that you were dying by the pain in your head, the taste of the bile, and the sound of your friend’s screaming… screaming… screaming?
Is that a blissful way to die? By not knowing when you will consciously act for the final time? I do not know. The alternative is almost scarier – to live in anticipation of the end, but do we not do that already?
No living human can answer any question posed here. No; in fact, we can only remember that death is the end and forget it until it comes.
Two weeks left! And here I was, thinking I’d be blogging and editing photos day and night. Instead, I’ve been scrambling about for food and wifi and basically living the collegiate struggle-life that I’ve never had. Am I excited to nestle in the comfy nest that is my familial bedroom? Why yes, that tempur-pedic (Bobopedic, ACTUALLY, but who’s asking?) glory-pad awaits me. Rumor has it that my A/C was installed by some fabulous gremlin. I am fully prepared to take on my own bedroom.
I’ve been compiling brief lists of interesting things I’ve learned on my seemingly endless explorations. I want to share these things with you, as well as some new expressions and vocabulary I’ve picked up along these quests. Expect to delight in that at some point.
The only thing I’ve left to conquer is the inclement, gloomy weather and bipolar temperature changes…
Lund Cathedral. Standard gorgosity.
Here I am conquering a medieval Swedish house.
I confuse myself.
I’ve fluctuated for eons about whether or not the prospect of children seems appealing to me and the lifestyle I want to adopt once I’m a Real Person. Let me interject – this Real Adulthood business is trickling slowly towards me, like molasses rolling downhill in slow-mo. It’s not a DIRE decision I must make before the night is over. I don’t think I even need to make the choice before graduation next summer. But if there is something I want this instant, nearly more than anything else on this planet (including french fries or dark chocolate), it is… a puppy.
Isn’t that kind of like a baby?, you might ask. I asked myself this every time I threaten to bring home a puppy. Is there something wrong with my biological clock? Am I geared toward non-human care after all? Or is my rationale simply reminding me that I am hardly able to care for myself, let alone properly raise a tiny human? Will a dog curb this undulating desire to take care of something small and vulnerable, and to love and be loved by a cuddle monster?
QUESTIONS ET PREGUNTAS, LEUTE!