Afterlife Pencils
Today I found my absolute favorite choice for what to do with my cremated body. In the hopefully far-flung future, after my organs are donated and my body is ash, I want to be made into pencils.
My previous candidates were: put me in the ground and grow something out of me, or shake me out in nature (maybe into a lovely mountain scene near a stream). They didn't hit the spot like this one though. The thought of people drawing, writing, doing math, or documenting scientific discoveries with me makes me incandescently happy. The thought of being used to scribe graffiti makes me giggle. I have only one request for those using me to decorate a school desk or the wall of a bathroom stall: please do not use me to declare your undying love in the manner of "Becky + Harold 4ever." If you must, write a love poem. Or better yet: a dirty limerick.
The big wish for my memorial is that people make jokes, find some joy, if they can.
It isn't that I want people to be ecstatic over my death. I want them to be happy I lived. I am.
My previous candidates were: put me in the ground and grow something out of me, or shake me out in nature (maybe into a lovely mountain scene near a stream). They didn't hit the spot like this one though. The thought of people drawing, writing, doing math, or documenting scientific discoveries with me makes me incandescently happy. The thought of being used to scribe graffiti makes me giggle. I have only one request for those using me to decorate a school desk or the wall of a bathroom stall: please do not use me to declare your undying love in the manner of "Becky + Harold 4ever." If you must, write a love poem. Or better yet: a dirty limerick.
The big wish for my memorial is that people make jokes, find some joy, if they can.
It isn't that I want people to be ecstatic over my death. I want them to be happy I lived. I am.