Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts

12/7/22

The Photo in My Obituary (and other thoughts)...

This is one of my long, semi-repetitive, personal thoughts/feelings sharing pieces, so don't bother reading it, if you're not into that sort of thing.
 
This is not directed at any particular person (nor any particular death) and is just my personal thoughts/feelings - but I personally don't get it and find it rather disconcerting and unclear about WHY when someone dies, a lot of people seem drawn to sharing a WAY younger photo of that person (whether online or even in the person's obituary).

I'm sure there are various different reasons derived from various different circumstances, but it still seems odd to me how prevalent it seems to be.

I'm 50 now. Let's say I die soon (which hopefully I don't). I wouldn't want one photo of me when I was 20 or 30 being the ONE photo chosen for my obituary or the MAIN photo(s) that friends or family members share online or otherwise, because...to me, that seems to indicate that the younger me was the better me...or the more appealing me or the more meaningful me or the more memorable or the more important...or the more attractive me.

As for the attractive part, it does seem true that some people start paying less attention to you (or looking at you differently or not looking at you much at all) as you get older. You might also look at yourself differently too. We all age (and we all age differently) and aging definitely has its down sides, but it also means we're still alive and living our lives. Overall, I think our brains should be more meaningful and important than our bodies. And so when I die, I don't want some photo of me from 20 or 30 years ago seeming to imply that was the best part of my life because I looked better or more powerful. Because what does that have to do with my brain? Anyone who REALLY knew me or cared deeply about me would share some of my poems when I died, because my poems are definitely a big part of my brain.

Although the older I get, the less meaningful and important my poems seem to others, but maybe I'm making that up. But I don't think so. Or maybe I'm more negative than I used to be (even though I've been pretty negative for years), because I used to think/hope/wish that at least my poetry would still be alive after I died, but I mean...my poetry doesn't even get much attention when I'm alive (I mean, it gets accepted for publication quite a bit, but I don't get the impression that many people read it), so...who knows?

Mind you, I'm not against past memories or past photos (we all have them), as long as the past doesn't outweigh the present. (Even with me and poetry, I most certainly appreciate my poetry and publications from the past, but I'm more drawn to the present).

It's not like I never share old memories from myself or others - or past photos of artists/singers/actors/performers or older poetry/art and so on. But I don't think I've ever shared a considerably older photo of someone shortly after that person dies? I could be wrong.

Maybe it's at least partly a personal memory thing. Like if someone knew that person when they were in their twenties (and wasn't as strongly drawn to them and/or didn't stay in as much contact with them in more recent years), then maybe that's how they'd personally remember that person looks-wise and/or personality-wise and/or art/poetry/performance-wise and/or otherwise after that person died. So along those lines, if someone I knew in my twenties found out I had died and shared a photo of me in my twenties (or a past poem of mine), then okay. But if someone I've known in the last 15 years or so (and/or we still know each other pretty well) shared one photo of me in my twenties after I died, I'd feel like WTF, did my younger self seem more important and meaningful to you than the last 20-30 years of my life? Did I accomplish nothing meaningful enough to seem more important than an old photo of the younger me?

I'm sure some other people see this differently, but the way I see it is that when people share considerably younger photos of someone after that person dies, but don't share more recent photos, that seems to be implying that the last 10 or 20 or 30 or 40 or 50 or 60 years of that person's life weren't as important or meaningful or memorable as when they were younger. (This doesn't apply if people share numerous photos, from the past AND closer to the present).

Also, when it comes to celebrity deaths, if you didn't know the person very well personally, but enjoyed and admired parts of their art (whether acting, singing, visual art, poetry, or otherwise) and after they die, you share a photo of them from 20 years ago or more, does that mean you liked their creative work when they were younger but not so much in recent years? I don't know what it means for others. But from a present poetry perspective, if someone shares some of my poetry when I die, I hope they don't share poetry I wrote 20 years ago or more (for a similar reason to the photos).

For me, I think when it comes to poets, artists, actors, musicians, and any human beings, most of us want to be loved and appreciated IN THE PRESENT more so than based on who we were in the past.

If when I die, someone puts up one photo of me from 20-30 years ago with one poem I wrote 20-30 years ago, that wouldn't be ME RIGHT NOW. Maybe it would be that person's memory or interpretation of me and there implication that that's when I was most meaningful to THEM. And again, I'm not discounting past memories (because I certainly have mine). But if I'm still alive in the present, then I'd like to be a meaningful part of a few other people's presents and I don't want my death to suddenly back track to the past MORE than the present and cause the more recent parts of my life to seem unimportant or close to invisible.

7/28/13

Why I don’t always like the phrase ‘lucky to be alive’

Because yes everyone is lucky to be alive, but repeatedly hearing that phrase directed at me in particular makes me feel as if I‘m supposed to focus on feeling lucky to be alive more than focusing on actually living. 

Because I don’t want to over-focus on the fact that certain life experiences might be a little more risky to me than to the average person.  After all, I’ve always been a bit of a risk taker in certain degrees – and for the most part, I don’t regret that – and I don’t want to feel as though I shouldn’t take any little risks anymore, because I’m so lucky to be alive I should just sit around feeling lucky instead of having a new life experience that might include small risk factors.

Don’t tons of things include small risk factors?  Is NEVER TAKING A RISK really good advice?  Some people might say yes.  I say no.  I’m not saying I’m going out of my way to take silly risks without even thinking, but if I think about trying something different that is not wildly unsafe and I decide to go for it,  then I’d like to be encouraged rather than discouraged.

If I had written this a few days ago, it would have been much more negative, bummed, and upset feeling  - but now I’ve thought about it more, reasonably considered whether it was over-risky or not and decided it wasn’t – and I’m going to do it.


Why should I not partake of a one-on-one new life experience and see what happens?

10/5/11

EVERY MONTH COUNTS

I woke up bleeding - the first of two periods I will be getting this month (the second will happen right before Halloween). Feeling better today now that the PMS has abated (this time's PMS, in addition to making me feel sad, also made me feel obsessive compulsive - about weird tidying and organizing and poeming).

A friend of mine sent me an online note last night, mentioning that he wished he would have seen me more in 2011 - which made me think something like, 'Um hello mister. Do three months not really mean much? Do three months not really count? Because 2011 still has three months left within it.'

Which then got me thinking that if 2011 is already almost over by some people's standards, then it would also already be almost two years since my carotid artery dissection/aneurisms/stroke/aphasia - and almost one year (same day) since my divorce.

2011 is NOT almost over by my standards; three months sure move fast (whole years sure move fast too) but are still a substantial amount of time - and who know what could happen? I sure don't like thinking/acting as if whole months of time barely even exist. I don't like moving too fast; but I also don't like moving way too slow. After all, nobody knows exactly how much time they have remaining. One month might feel like almost nothing or very substantial or a fusion of both. For me, every month feels/is substantial and important in its own odd way.

On a semi-related note, I felt a bit annoyed recently when a young male friend of mine informed me that I was almost 40. Hello, I will be turning 39 this month, dingbat. I don't think most women who will soon be turning 39, but have not yet, desire to be called 'almost 40', as if a whole year barely even exists! This seems to indicate that whole months barely even exist all the way up to twelve months! Stop talking/acting like that in front of me! I don't like it!

It all exists people. It all exists in one way or another. Don't act as if nothing really/truely matters much; not even your/my/our remaining time. Don't continually waste time and then be surprised by what you might suddenly lose (you/me/us) - because maybe it's not that sudden if you have been wasting time and ignoring things for months upon months.

I exist. My life exists. My ups & downs exist. My whitening hair exists. My weird poetry modes exist. My 38 soon to turn 39 (but not almost 40 yet) age exists. Every inch of my remaining time still exists. My strong desire to be passionate and productive still exists and will for the rest of my life (despite occassional zoned-out modes).

I still have trouble with math, shapes, sizes, cooking directions, and lots of easy little words (and I'm not going to stop talking about those difficulties as though they no longer exist, because they certainly do) - and maybe that's going to be my brain for the rest of my life now (and I wonder if it is partially my own fault. did I maybe not focus on the right kind of therapy enough? did I not try hard enough in certain regards? did I focus on the wrong things?) - and sometimes that really does trouble me, upset me, stress me out, and make me a feel a bit oddly inferior. But I'm alive, I exist, I have strengths. I sure have annoying spelling issues though, for someone who used to be a great speller. Did I spell inferior wrong? I'm not sure. My mind had a title for this blog entry, but I couldn't spell several of the words, so as of right now, it has know title, and I'll probably think of a different one.

The title WAS going to be Bloody Wailing Banche - except that the second and third words are probably spelled wrong. Is it Wailing or Waleing or neither of those? Is it Banche or Banshe or Banshee or none of those? Is it Whaling or Whaleing or Whale-ing? I don't know. I'll stop. But speaking of one kind of Whale, I'm quite delighted that my poem 'Sink or Float [quick fix witch]' made number 14 of this fabulous Whale Sound Top 20 list. Yay!

http://whalesound.wordpress.com/2011/10/03/top-20-whale-sound-posts/