Ashes, Ashes; We All Fall Down.

I haven’t not written for lack of ammunition or for want of a firing target. Thankfully, I’ve been blessed with an abundance of both lately. Bare in mind, I’m not thankful for the pain, stress, trauma, or discomfort these past few months have afforded me, only the lessons. My hard head forecast some other parts softening, and if you’re familiar w/ the adage, I need not enumerate the squishy sections affected–just know that I’m getting in shape in every sense of the word.

I’ll save the juicy gossip for my first memoir or set it obscurely in the lives of one of my characters: one more articulate in the moment, fierce to opponents and with less care for how the world views her. Instead, I’ll talk about something that used to scare me tremendously, but now only scares me some: mortality!

A young man I went to school with passed. No worries, I don’t dare attempt to eulogize, I barely knew the man. Actually, the first time I met him wasn’t on campus, but when I was working full-time. I had to wipe out his entire call log, and he was none-too-thrilled with me, but generally cordial and pleasant. He kept his composure and informed me that he had thousands of business connects. I knew he was a freshman because only they and valedictorians possess such deluded optimism, like molecules ping-ponging against themselves; the rest of us, or maybe just I, were more like the sperm that swim in circles  and keep bad boys very busy. In any case, we parted ways and I thought nothing of the next few times we passed each other on the yard, in the caf, around the city.  We did what any bison would do, if you went to the school, you know…shades up, purse in arm crease, PDA in hand, headphones in ear, oblivious to the world, way too cool to speak… ignored each other.

Upon reading an alumnus had passed, I investigated to see if I knew him, and sure enough, it was the over-achiever. I cannot mourn because I did not know him personally, but from the school’s newspaper article dedicated to him, I learned he had updated his status on a social networking cite shortly before he died. I thought back to a friend who passed a few years back and how she had updated her profile with an encouraging status a day or two before she passed. I look at friends’ stati (I’m using the latin plural, so what if it’s wrong, it feels smarter this way. :/ ) and I believe we build these electronic shrines to ourselves as a method to defeat mortality. We’re burying our heads in the sands of self-worship. His status was actually prolific, and if life were a novel, I’d swear he foreshadowed his demise with a glimmering spiritual reassurance. I would call this eerie if I didn’t believe in it myself.

We, as young people, can get caught up in the glamour of our self-constructed celebrity, but, in reality, a meretricious existence–if God permits it to remain– withers as soon as the sparkle fades and beauty shrivels. Etching Confucian wisdom on twelve web-domains wont offset the inevitable. We’re spiritual amphibians, both living and dying at the same time. Smart updates, ignorant sayings, illicit photos, biblical quotes–all the electronic decorations that collect dust on these shadows of our true lives amount to nothing in comparison to the actual lives we lead. The lies we tell, secrets we keep, things we do when no one else is around, true intentions, all that you’ll never expose or that you pray wont be exposed, that’s your true self. So if you’re working on time-and-a-half for most popular, beautiful, funniest, best photo superlatives on Facebook, maybe this would be a good time 2 consider a hobby outside of the matrix. Just a thought. I’m not judging…just thinking out loud. I’d rather not be one of the tail-chasing sperm anymore…that’s all I’m saying.