Death Defying Acts.

You know it occurs to me that every single move we make could cause death.

One untimely sneeze while lifting this fork to my mouth could be fatal.

In all honesty it's amazing I am here right now. Once when I was three I was nearly demolished by a ram galloping towards me at full throttle. Now that would have been rather ironic, considering my star sign, non?

Or the time when I was nine and I almost stepped on a snake in a gully at Mt Annan.

It also occurs to me that both times (among countless others) I was rescued by my Mum. My Mum who is always there for me. My Mum. My hero. I know this is terribly morbid and terribly obvious and terribly tragic but she won't always be there. Here.

And that scares me.

That scares me more than the thought of eternal hiccoughs and non-sliding sliding doors.

Death. The be all and end all.

If only it weren't so. In the end there are no death defying acts- there is only life. A life that will inevitably end.

To quote Will:

We are such stuff as dreams are made on,

and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

There She Goes...There She Goes Again...

When the day of mourning is set, and the pallbearers stand tall, let it be known that UTS became the death of her. Of Emma. Not literally, of course, but rather, the metaphorical death of the person she used to be. Pre-University Emma.

This new Emma...I don't much like her. She doesn't laugh nearly enough, and what is worse, never at nothing imparticular. Far more often than I would like, she is completely creatively impotent. She can't write, she can't paint; her comebacks take too long, and are of questionable wit.

I've been mourning the old, effervescent, clever, silly, talkative, relatively good-temepered, quick-witted, happy Emma for some time now. I always hoped that she would find her way back...

But from death, as they say, comes rebirth; from destruction comes creation.

One can only hope it doesn't come to that to begin with.

Untitled. 2007.

The elegant skies stretch high
Overhead in shades of pristine blue,
Just as you would have it
For your final glimpse of life.
Balloons of every colour
Rise toward infinity,
Saluting you, my hero.

You would have me celebrating
With their dancing skyward strings,
With the forced smiles of the
Grieving guests, and
The bright colours of the
Effulgent dresses
you demanded of us.

But I mourn the loss of
Black limousines, lugubrious
in their somber cortege.
Of grey clouds and dark umbrellas,
Of caliginous funerary regalia
and morose expressions,
As surely as I mourn the loss,
My loss
Of you.

Try
though you might,
You will not summon
a smile to my face
with forced Nostalgia that
I cannot bear to remember.

By Emma Dower.

But my breath fogged up the glass, and so I drew a new face and laughed.

Death, huh?
My theory is a mess to be honest- a rather depressing and somewhat confusing mess.
I don't believe in a god (God?) and so technically I shouldn't believe in a heaven. I do however believe there is something else. I mean.. how can this be it?

While I'm the first to admit I am enamoured with Romeo & Jule's tragically, heart-wrenching tale of unrequited love, (my second favourite kind) the double suicide isn't my style. Unlike our loyal friend Emma... I think if you are fortunate enough to find someone else to love and be loved by.. then why the heck not... your dearly departed should be happy for you.

I don't believe in remarriage- mainly because I don't believe in marriage. Not to say I dont believe in that 'encapsulating, overpowering, sensationalist, couldn't-live-without-one-another kind of love.' ( Dower, http://beautiful-exception.blogspot.com/ , 2008)
That is something I believe in whole-heartedly.

This is such a hard idea for me to play with.. it's tied up with religion and love and all those other universal themes that baffle me. Helpful non?

Death. Death. Death. The idea of my own death doesn't worry me, that's probably appalling (oh well). It's the thought of losing others that makes my head spin and my heart falter. That the world could go on without the people I need is unthinkable.

So I'm not going to think about it. This is too much for my head. My ideologies and theories are too muddled to make any sense... I don't know if I believe in destiny, or soulmates or a higher-being. I think I need to know before I can have a true opinion... maybe it's because I am an Aries? (Ha-ha) But if (and only if) there is Heaven and Hell .. I think I am in trouble... I was in trouble before I even did anything (my parents are not married and I was never christened/ baptised)



There you have it. I think, in all it's unoriginality, I will have to repeat those infamous words of wisdom- "To the well organised mind, death is but the next adventure". And that's how I too will look at it- I'll make the most of this life and I won't worry about what will happen next.
On the brightside.. if the Big Sauna is what is awaiting me.. I'll be in very good company.

Existentialist Ramble.

I think about death a great deal. I like to think that this is because, as a Virgo, I need to have everything planned, thus, I need to know exactly where it is that I am supposed to be going in the hereafter. At 18, my views on religion are still largely indecisive, but I will say that my instincts tell me to pack for warm weather...

Something I often contemplate is the concept of monogamy. Death is always the deal breaker...'till death do us part'. I'm going to make a sweeping generalisation here, but I think it is far to say that the majority of couples who feel the need to speak these vows, believe in God. With this in mind, I find it very strange that Christians who believe in heaven, and presumably hell, only feel the need to commit to one another for the time they spend on earth.

I don't believe in remarriage. Plain and simple. I always think how awkward it would be after the three spouses concerned all die. You'd have the twin burial plots of the original husband and wife, and then an add on for the second marriage, and perhaps even an add on for that. And assuming that there is a heaven, think how uncomfortable things would be up there. Would husband number one be the third wheel, or would it be number two? Or, true to their wedding vows, do they each move on and start chatting up pin up girls from the 20s? It is all so confusing.

It is my belief that Romeo and Juliet had the right idea. They had that encasulating, overpowering, sensationalist, couldn't-live-without-one-another kind of love. I think that is the way it should be, and if it were me...well, you know what they say about life imitating art.

Death. It is a morbid habit, I know, but I really can't help but think about it. The idea that some day, the world is going to go on without me is a terrifying thought. The only thing that consoles me when I get to thinking about it, are the words of wisdom spoken to Harry Potter by Dumbledore: "To the well organised mind, death is but the next adventure".

Cutting the Apron Strings.

***

I wish it were that easy.

***

There are thousands and thousands of us. Far too many to remember. We, in our igorant multitudes...and you. Extra special. As it happens, I will always remember. It was insignificant and consequential, quite at the same time.

You don't need to promise to remember me. I know you will.

But do, do promise that you won't forget. It is quite a different thing, you know.

Kid, please try harder.

Sometimes I just want to write my heart out.

...

There is something to be said for 'teen angst'. I mean where would we be without the loud, heartfelt music we blast through car stereos or the tragic poetry I know we have all wasted time writing?

As a generalisation though we seem to spend so much time hating adolescence that we forget to actually enjoy it and then, in the blink of an almost-adult eye, it's gone.

I like to think I didn't waste my teenagedom. I miss it incredibly. Or maybe I am confusing that with High School? I suppose in a way it's one and the same . Never-the-less it's a part of my life that I can't seem to let go of. I realise I am only 18.. and still a 'teenager'- but that will soon morph into 19 and before long.... the '20's'.( Cue jaws-esque music)

There is so much pressure to grow up. To be responsible, mature and 'adult'. My resistance comes far too easily. Sure I am mature.. I mean I wash my own clothes for goodness sake(!) but I am one who shies away from adult things.. Like driving and drinking.

Sometimes I wonder- In trying to cling to the past, am I ruining where I am now? I don't want to be one of those 'can't-let-go-of-the-good-old-days' people- Those people are a little bit tragic... but in truth I can't let go of the good old days. They were good! In saying all this I do realise that I am not meant to forget just meant to move forward.

Thats a scary thought for a change-fearing person like myself. But in the end there's nothing to be done for it. Time stands still for no (wo)man.