I ponder the feasibility of not being dead.

I die occasionally. This has been an irregularly recurring condition since puberty. Currently I have been dead for about four years. Admittedly, this is not the longest time that I have ever been dead. Still, it is a problem.

I worry that being dead adversely affects my personal growth in the long term. I feel as though I’m missing out on things. I am significantly less productive when I’m dead. Social opportunities are limited. Furthermore, I now find myself at a career impasse, partially because of the difficulty of crafting a resume that minimizes the fact that I’m dead. At this rate, by the time I’m 60 years old, I will have been dead for about 25 years. This is frankly unacceptable.

In the past, the condition has seemingly resolved itself eventually, but I have no clue if and when this may happen. It could easily be years before I’m not dead anymore. The whole process is frustratingly unpredictable.

Therefore, I have been contemplating whether it might be possible to somehow master death– to actively encourage myself to not be dead anymore. It is an audacious undertaking, I realize. I sense that I am tampering in God’s domain, meddling with forces beyond my control, pursuing secrets that Man was not meant to know. This is all to the good; in the past, personal melodrama has been one of the most reliable indicators of my not being dead. But I need more.

I need to grasp the reins of my Destiny, wrest control of my Fate away from Death. I need to Capitalize words for maximum dramatic Effect, until Somebody tells me to Stop. More practically, I need to shake myself out of my state of complacency. Motivation is a serious problem when you’re dead. Perhaps a change of routine or diet is in order.

Something has to change. I can’t just keep on being dead like this. There’s too much life out there! Or so I have heard. Anyway, the years of my youth have been wasted in death, and I really need to stop being dead before I get any older. Somehow I need to figure out what the source of the problem is and how to solve it. When I’m gone, I want people to say more of me than: “He was dead.”

Go ye and seek the Deathly Hallows, my son and ye shall master Death.–JK Rowling.

That evil mistress, Complacency (closely related to Ms Doldrum and Madam Smug)–that’s a whole nother ball of wax. Run far, swift and fleet if you glimpse any of them.

And I thought I was Mister Death after Death turned 8 years of age. I think you’re dealing with Mr. Death. :slight_smile:

Ummm… What?

Well, thank you eleanorigby, although I don’t quite know what to do with those last lines. I’m afraid you’ve out-referenced me.

I probably won’t be seeking the Deathly Hallows anytime soon-- I fell off around the fifth book. If I recall aright, that was around the most recent time I died, but that was probably just coincidence.

And the problem of course with running away from Complacency is too much Complacency. It’s one of those Catch-22 type situations. Kind of like talking yourself out of being dead.

Nah-I didn’t outreference you! I was just riffing on the whole Master/Mistress thing (I HOPE there’s no such thing as Madam Smug etc!) And the whole Mr Death–in somewhat antiquated etiquette, a small boy was referred to as Master Timothy (or whatever) until he was about 7-9 years of age. Since, you’ve been suffering terminal ennui for more than 7 years, I thought it reasonable to refer to him as Mr Death, not Master Death. (which was me playing on mastering death…)

Never mind. I hate explaining my own jokes. I’ll just be in the corner over here, giggling smugly to myself (oh, no!).

Buck up. I can’t cure dead people (that’s up to Billy Crystal in Princess Bride), but the only mostly dead are free game… :wink:

and I see that my sentence in my first post wasn’t clear–that should read “it” not “I”.

(hope you’re feeling better soon)

Thank you! And it was a good joke, once explained! I was wondering why you thought you were “Mr. Death!” Foiled by a stray typo… I know them well. It’s kind of a Catch-2 situation.

Hmmmmm…of late I have been considering spending some time dead. Not for tax purposes, as I have heard that some do it, but to give myself some time to restructure my life, my mind, and my library (not necessarily in that order).

I have managed to attain partial Death, despite the wailing and protests of those to whom I announced my intentions, and the Chat Room no longer has the allure that it once had; I can only hope that those Fair Maidens who proclaimed how empty their lives would be when deprived of my witty repartee and seductive ways have managed to find others to take my place. In other ways I have been less successful, having found my intentions harder to explain to people with whom I have dealings with in the Real World. There is also the question of Burning certain Bridges, as it is possible that after a period of being Dead I may find that certain Desires have been restored.

I must give this more Thought, and consider carefully the Consequences.

In Chicago, if you’re dead you get to vote. It’s considered a perk. There are advantages to being dead.

Having recently moved from Chicago, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if I was still registered to vote there. My wife was getting applications for absentee ballots and invitations to attend senior events from our alderman for two years after she died.

I agree. Have you tried… BRAAAIIINS! ?

I can relate, I die a little each time I think about the end of the Dark Tower series.

Terrifel, the truth is you aren’t dead.
You’re resting. :wink:


In Soviet Union, death kills YOU!

(Yeah, I don’t understand it either.)

You should study the game of chess.
I know how you feel. I’ve got some dead spots in my life history.

I think I know how you feel, as I have been dead for the past three years. However, I’m mostly whiny and bitter about it. And it’s getting old, even to me.

You, however, may be dead, but you’re all Literary and Charmingly Philosophical about it. So I bet that your corpse attracts more Fun Flies then mine.

Well I don’t know what to say about that. Thank you, though. “Literary and Charmingly Philosophical” is the nicest thing I can remember anyone saying about me. It sounds like an excerpt from a lavishly favorable book review. Even when I was alive, nobody ever accused me of being charming. Maybe I actually am a better person when I’m dead. This is a troublesome thought.

I’m certainly not without my whiny bitter moments either. But mostly I’m just dead. Perhaps I am starting to fossilize. I use certain chemicals which seem to help prevent excessive bloating and moisture damage. As a result, I probably attract fewer flies. However, I do attract ferrets. Evidently I taste like yogurt raisins.

Why not spend a year dead for tax reasons?

eleanorigby You died about 40 years ago in a church and were buried along with your name. Nobody came.