My funeral
It's been a while. I haven't been making too much progress in life in general, so we can leave it at that. Instead, today I'll just talk about my death instead.
This entry is spurred from an almost-accident earlier today (or yesterday, considering it's now 2.30am). A car whizzed by right in front of my nose when I was crossing the street.
First thought: "How many people would come to my funeral?"
Second thought: "This is gonna SCAR the heck out of my friend who went out with me earlier."
Only after a while when I almost reached the hostel did a more proper thought managed to slip into my mind, "Oh damn, I haven't written a will."
Okay, maybe not so proper. But the first two are just downright warped. Anyway, along my way back the first thought boomed full-throttle into this grand vision of that to-be sullen occasion.
It's been on my mind for a while now that my purpose in life may just be to draw as many people to my funeral as possible. As mentioned, my progress in life so far is not exactly progressive, therefore I would not expect more than 50 people willing to attend, excluding family members. People in black formal attires, small talks "in memory" of me, gloomy funeral music, blah blah. I, as the ghost with unfinished business, would be sitting at some corners, eavesdropping on people talking about me for the first time. Gonna be fun.
Would be much more fun though if I had my own funeral at a club. Then everybody can dance, and gloomy funeral music can be struck out - better add that to the will. For god's sake, why would I want the sort of music that I detest to be played in celebration of my death?
Still, eavesdropping would be fun. If I'm never to know what people honestly think of me during my lifetime, my death will not be that much of a waste. Better then than never. It's pure curiosity, but it's the kind of curiosity that can drive me nuts when I'm still alive.
An additional incentive is the ridiculousness of having people discussing about my characters and their memories with me when I'm right there. I can pretty much rofl hearing certain people going on about "She was such a nice girl." As if they ever like me from the start.
So, what is the time and location again? I just can't wait for my own funeral. But before that, let me write the will first.
This entry is spurred from an almost-accident earlier today (or yesterday, considering it's now 2.30am). A car whizzed by right in front of my nose when I was crossing the street.
First thought: "How many people would come to my funeral?"
Second thought: "This is gonna SCAR the heck out of my friend who went out with me earlier."
Only after a while when I almost reached the hostel did a more proper thought managed to slip into my mind, "Oh damn, I haven't written a will."
Okay, maybe not so proper. But the first two are just downright warped. Anyway, along my way back the first thought boomed full-throttle into this grand vision of that to-be sullen occasion.
It's been on my mind for a while now that my purpose in life may just be to draw as many people to my funeral as possible. As mentioned, my progress in life so far is not exactly progressive, therefore I would not expect more than 50 people willing to attend, excluding family members. People in black formal attires, small talks "in memory" of me, gloomy funeral music, blah blah. I, as the ghost with unfinished business, would be sitting at some corners, eavesdropping on people talking about me for the first time. Gonna be fun.
Would be much more fun though if I had my own funeral at a club. Then everybody can dance, and gloomy funeral music can be struck out - better add that to the will. For god's sake, why would I want the sort of music that I detest to be played in celebration of my death?
Still, eavesdropping would be fun. If I'm never to know what people honestly think of me during my lifetime, my death will not be that much of a waste. Better then than never. It's pure curiosity, but it's the kind of curiosity that can drive me nuts when I'm still alive.
An additional incentive is the ridiculousness of having people discussing about my characters and their memories with me when I'm right there. I can pretty much rofl hearing certain people going on about "She was such a nice girl." As if they ever like me from the start.
So, what is the time and location again? I just can't wait for my own funeral. But before that, let me write the will first.