Gotta Wear Shades

I have been drinking so much Throat Comfort tea and sucking on so many Ricola Lemon & Mint throat drops in the past week that I think I am going to barf.

Which brings me to my next point.

We're all going to die.

This is something Mark brought up a few days ago when I was in Chicago. It was a very timely observation, as I've been suffering from a beastly illness the last few days. It is truly the Mother of All Illnesses, the Ulimate Illness, my Personal Plague. It's got--count 'em up folks--a stuffy nose, a stinging throat, an enormous cough, a stomachache, a constant nausea, sleeplessness, chills, fever, AND aches and pains. TOP THAT, SUCKERS.

So I had been thinking about death anyway.

But then Mark said, "We're all going to die, so let's cut the bull[hockey] and start LIVING for something, already!" He said this as I sipped my rose tea and nibbled on a hummus-slathered bagel and murmured, "Mm-hm, mm-hm," but later my mind was a-whirl.

How am I supposed to start living for something already?! That is a very difficult thing to do. Unless I am in the Peace Corps in Africa, or perhaps working on an organic farm in the south of France which is every aspiring yuppie's dream come true, or Taylor Swift who is 18 years old and already has three platinum records AND has dated Joe Jonas which is something I could do and feel my life complete...how do I convince anyone, including myself, that what I do on a daily basis is worthwhile enough to die for?

These days, what I do on a daily basis is: watch "Jon and Kate Plus 8," make a sandwich (peanut butter and jelly), and check my email 12 times.

That lifestyle doesn't exactly scream "martyr" to me.

I was reading about British people the other day, and how they accept death much more readily than Americans. Americans will do anything to keep death as far from mind and body as possible, whereas Brits welcome it at any moment with open arms. The author said that, because of their adorably morbid mentality (of course if Americans are morbid, they're just creepy--the British can get away with constantly mulling over death while being completely charming), Brits "never run for a bus and never skip tea."

How do I apply that to my life?

Should I stop running for buses?

Life is very confusing lately. I feel very young (I am very young), but then again I feel very old. Exhibit A: Selena Gomez. I could not even tell you who Selena Gomez is. But apparently she is the Britney Spears of her generation. That is, the big star. Britney Spears was the big star of my generation, but let's look at where she is now: she has been married twice, she has two children, she has gone crazy several times, and makes news by entering into a gas station bathroom with no shoes on, a headline previously reserved by the likes of old people like Mickey Rourke and Nick Nolte. This is the star of my generation. She is nuts. This makes me feel very, very old.

I feel young because I don't know what I'm doing. I was going to be in Maryland and get an Actual Job, but now I am moving to Chicago to live in a cheap apartment and watch TV with Joe, because I'm not ready to leave my safety net of friends ("community" is the adult word) yet. I also feel young because I think I'm supposed to be looking for jobs but all I want to do is watch "Ellen." I feel young because my idea of saving money is buying a dress from Argentina, and my idea of eating healthfully is limiting my intake of ice cream bars to one or two a day.

And I'm supposed to be thinking about my death?!

Today is Good Friday, which is all about death. I'm trying hard not to think about Easter, because Easter is a surprise, not a given.

Sort of hard not to think about Easter when there is a giant bunny in the entrance of the supermarket.

Two Easters ago I was in Paris.


So much happens on Easter. So much that I cannot even comprehend. I do know it makes the idea of death slightly easier to swallow.

Slightly.

But my future is still confusing as all get out. However, I think it involves the Pacific Northwest at some point. Which is odd, because of the 2.5 places I consider home, none of them are the Northwest. But there is something very tonic about it that I can't seem to let go of.

I think it also involves baby goats. (Feel free to buy me a baby goat!)

I hope a bit more of Paris.

The future's so bright I gotta wear shades.

I know that God loves losers, which is good news for me, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say He didn't create us to be losers. I think Mark's right. I think I do need to start living for something already. Which probably does not mean living for 3:00pm when "Ellen" comes on.

You know the story of Moses and the Red Sea, when Moses was leading a whole bunch of Israelites and the Pharaoh was going after them, and when they got to the Red Sea they were trapped, so Charlton Heston had to raise his rod and the whole sea parts in half as lightning strikes?

Well some rabbis tell a midrash, a kind of complementary ancient tale to go with the original Bible version, along with the Moses story. Word has it that it wasn't actually Moses who parted the Sea, but a little Israelite named Nachshon who just starts going into the water when Moses' rod doesn't quite cut it. Nachshon charges through the water, going up to his knees, then his waist, then all the way up to his nostrils until God finally parts the Sea. And the moral of that story is, Sometimes miracles happen only when you jump in.

So I am charging to Chicago! I am taking it by storm! Which probably means applying for Starbucks!

Ah well. Easter is coming and anything can happen. God's grace can warm the souls of an entire world. Jesus can be raised from the dead. An Israelite can part a sea. I am jumping in.

First step: paint my fingernails blue. Second step, finally put away my Chile suitcases. Third step, watch "Ellen." Fourth step, cut the bullhockey and start living for something already.