It’s been a long time since I posted anything here, but I hope for that to change very soon. I’ve been at home and all we have there is dial-up, so I usually don’t put for the effort to post. I’m about to return to Georgia Tech, however, where they tell us the connection speed rivals that of the CIA. In any case, I hope to be posting a lot very soon.
For now, I’ll leave you with one random question that I had the other day:
If gay siblings have sex, is it still considered incest?
Birthdays, Lemony Snicket, and the Ring of Power
I recently celebrated my 19th birthday, and as usual, it was somewhat depressing. If you think that’s weird, then I have to say I agree with you. No one my age has any right to be depressed about getting older. They have to wait until they turn 30 or so. (At least, that’s about how it sounds if you listen to people 30 and older).
Here’s a question for you: when you were a little kid, say, 4 to 9 years old, could you not wait to grow up, or were you happy with things staying as they were? Did time seem to pass quickly for you, or did weeks, weekends, summers, last forever?. (Yes, I know that’s two questions).
I’ll answer my own questions. Life has always seemed to go by fast to me, and I never really wanted to grow up. I get a little depressed on my birthdays because it feels like I just had one recently.
And I have a theory about why I feel this way.
I read. A lot. Both books and comic books. Many of the books are long, drawn out fantasy series. (Yes, I’m well aware that I am a total nerd). In many of these series, such as Harry Potter, A Song of Ice and Fire, A Series of Unfortunate Events, The Inheritance Trilogy, and The Wheel of Time, consecutive books often come out years apart, and yet, for the characters, sometimes only a few weeks, days or minutes have passed. They’re exactly as I left them when I finished the last book. In one way this is very reassuring because it makes it feel to me as though no time has passed. After going through a year’s worth of stuff, I come back to the series and there’s Rand al’Thor or Arya Stark, or Violet, Klaus, and Sunny, right where I left them. (Incidentally, I’m currently awaiting The Elves of Cintra, the second book in Terry Brooks’ “Genesis of Shannara” trilogy, due out August 28, according to Wikipedia.) I had a similar experience with “The Lord of the Rings” films. I walk in to see “The Return of the King” and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli are just now partying about winning the battle of Helms Deep, which I saw a year ago. And of course, with comics, the characters practically never age.
The point is that when I focus on the books or characters, time seems to move slowly, and that’s what I did for years. But on my birthday, I focus on me, and the feelings that no time has passed – which I believe are compounded by the books, movies, etc. – backfire on me. These feelings are made worse by the fact that, while the books may alter my perception of time, they also consume real time.
I love reading. It’s probably my favorite activity. But I also know that when I’m 50, I won’t look back on all my reading and think, “Gosh, those were the days. Good times.” Of course, the same applies to video games, television, commuting, jail, and drug-induced stupors. But you get the point. Although reading is enjoyable and self-improving, it is not fulfilling.
Which just makes it even more obvious how much I need a Time-Turner. Although I’m not sure that would solve the aging problem.
Grave Matters
Where do you want to be buried? Do you even want to be buried? Obviously, cremation is cheaper, and can probably be considered more environmentally friendly, if you’re really concerned with that kind of thing.
For some reason, I’ve heard this topic come up several times amongst members of my extended family. My dad’s parents come from rural North Carolina and there are quite a few family graveyards up there. One problem is that these tend to fill up. Another is that, following their liberation, women no longer attach themselves to their husband’s families the way the once did. Many parents set aside spaces for their children to be buried with them.
In my opinion, husbands and wives should be buried together. Grown, married children should not come into the equation. Much as I love my parents, when I get married, I’ll have a family of my own. The same thing will be the case with my children. I would like to be buried with my parents, but it is hardly important. Divorces and having children out of wedlock complicate things further. The Bible says that a husband should cleave to his wife. If the pattern of long, ancestral burial plots can be maintained, that is all well and good. But the only real burial tradition should be for man and wife to be buried together in a location of their choosing.
I recently talked to a man who had gone to Japan. One of his business associates took him to the graveyard where the ashes of his ancestors going back a thousand years were buried in a compartment in volcanic rock. This may be feasible in Japan, but it is impossible in the United States. The country is too big and individuals move around too much. That is one advantage of cremation. Harsh as it may sound, people can carry their ancestor’s ashes with them wherever they may move.
Ultimately, the disposal of ones remains is unimportant. If you believe in life after death, as I do, then the location or fate of one’s remains is of no consequence. Whether my soul goes to heaven or hell will be determined by my faith in Christ, not by what is done with my body. And if you are not concerned about your soul, there is still no reason to worry about your body. Within a few generations, you’ll be nothing more than a name in some old family album or something anyway.
