There's nothing quite like writing about death

Writing about death can come across as cheesy, trite and just...not enough. But last night I saw The Fault in our Stars and I feel moved to write some of my thoughts about the living. (no movie spoilers here!)

 

In college I learned that my high school Biology teacher's son committed suicide. This is what I know of the story.

 

In 2001, 9/11 happened--as we all know. One of my high school teacher's friends was killed in the attack. My teacher later took his family to visit the grave of his friend. My teacher was pretty grief stricken and got pretty emotional at the grave site. Knowing him only as a chipper, humorous Biology teacher, I can hardly imagine this scene, but apparently he was bawling and quite overcome with emotion.

 

A few years later, when his son committed suicide, his son cited that scene at the grave site in his note to his family. The son claimed that seeing his dad so grief stricken was too hard to bear. The world is too cruel and hard to live in. He wanted out and he made his way. (Can you imagine the blow my teacher might have felt in feeling responsible for that whole scene?)

 

I don't mean to say that I often think of committing suicide, but I often think of that son's claim. The world is too full of sorrow and pain to live in. And after watching the fictionalization of two star-crossed lovers deal with terminal cancer, it's ever more present in my thoughts today. The hardship, pain, sorrow, suffering, loneliness, despair (all the worst words you can think of) are only one part of our mortal existence. And they will always be here to cause us grief.

 

The other part of our existence is all the good words you can think like hope, joy and happiness, on top of the growth and understanding that comes from hardships.

 

So how to enjoy the living and seek the better part? I don't intend to even try to answer this question, because I think I struggle to answer it for myself. I think we have to re-learn the answer to that question every day.

beck

So you want to know what I did today?

Okay, I'll tell you. I woke up, got dressed and went off to babysit. I spent the entire day with three little ones--ages 4, 2 and 1.

We read books--most notably the Ladybug Girl books. Those littles love to read and be read to.

We made chocolate chip cookies--and I managed to minimize the mess!

We pretended to be dogs. Many thanks to my mom for years and years of exposure to fun songs for kids. Charlotte Diamond's "I Wanna Be a Dog" is a new favorite in the "Family I Babysit For" household.

We got makeovers care of lil W's new makeup kit. I learned from experience why women shouldn't wear blue eye shadow on a daily basis.

We danced! This was not a one song dance party. We rocked out for a good 30 minutes. I love to dance. Some things will never change.

At the end of the day, all I can think is how amazed I am at women and other caretakers who do what I did everyday. As much as I want to be a mom, I'm very grateful for what I have now--limited accountability and abundant freedom.

beck

Ennui

Straight up ennui. The real kind. I can't think of anything else to describe how I've felt for the past couple of weeks.

en·nui

noun

1. 1.

   a feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement.

   synonyms:

   boredom, tedium, listlessness, lethargy, lassitude, languor, weariness, enervation;

I can't even articulate why or the circumstances. It's too dissatisfying. Give me some excitement and a real occupation for my days, please!

beck

Backpacks are sexy

A guy asked for my number this morning because he liked my..."book bag." I have to give him credit for that, because I really like it too. It's one of the Dakine backpacks given out for BYU's Study Abroad programs. I actually won this morning's backpack in a lottery so I now have two backpacks from doing one study abroad.

The backpack that got attention this morning is especially cool looking because it's black with rastafari coloring. This morning's guy was not the first guy to comment on it. He was also not the first black guy to comment on it.

I give mad props to guys who are bold enough to hit on a girl whom they've barely met. That kind of self confidence is so sexy to me--and not at all creepy. So I gave him my number. He was just too smooth to turn down.

beck