Here's something I was thinking about.

I was obviously thinking about something since I was motivated to write a blog about it. It's kind of weird, and I don't know how many people have thought about it before. It's also probably kind of boring. Let me touch on, first, that I don't understand what compelled me to create a blog. I often make fun of blogs and people who blog about everything anyway. But now I've gone and done it; I committed the most condemned of sins: I've blogged. But what can I do now? Sure, I can delete my blog, but why would I want to do that?

Instead, I think I will use this opportunity to blog about things that my friends and parental units would rather not hear. I will use this as my opportunity to whine because no one listens to me when I do. The only thing I can strive for to save my soul from the hellish abyss of weblogging is to make this as least stupid as I can. I clicked on a link to someone's blog and it was simply a bunch of entries full of word fragments and incompetent typing. I won't do it.

Now, to the real point of this entry - though one can never expect there to be a real point to these things. This morning was terrible. I woke up on time for school but was disappointed to find that my only pair of pants were still wet from being washed. Not to mention, my only jacket was wet. So, neither dried before my bus came and it is freezing outside. I refused to become a human icicle, so I waited until the stuff dried. Not all the way, unfortunately, but enough so that I would just get hypothermia rather than freeze.

Needless to say, I was very pissed off when I donned all of my clothes to go get my dad to take me to school. My sister's bus driver is crazy and pulled off without my sister, so she had missed her bus too. And since my dad is crazy too, there was no room in his abysmal truck for more than himself and one other person. So, naturally, my sister got to go before I did.

But none of that is my point. Simply filler for ramblings that aren't great at all anyway. Kind of like most of the movies nowadays. Just filled with things like mindless conversations, pointless action sequences, or filthy sex scenes. That's kind of my life, minus that occasionally interesting action sequences and less than desirable sex scenes. But you know what I mean.

The "point" is, when I went outside, I was amazed. It is quite clearly Fall. Things are weird down here in Georgia. It's been Fall for a while now, and freezing as previously mentioned, but none of the trees had started shedding up until about a week or two ago. So, the trees around my house are finally turning colours. Today, I saw the first leaves fall from our trees. I went outside to the side of our house to ask my dad if he was going to take me. When I came around the side, all I saw was big trees with gold, crimson, and tangerine coloured leaves. On top of that, my dog is a gorgeous reddish brown colour and was wearing a bright orange collar; he matched the leaves perfectly. On top of that, the leaves had started falling, so there were fresh bright yellow leaves on the dirty ground. These leaves weren't the ugly crunchy brown of leaves that had finished their lives for a while. They were fresh, bright, newly deceased leaves. And they were beautiful.

It was in that moment that I wished I had a digital camera more than ever. I wanted one so bad. So bad. The vision of my gorgeous dog against the green and changing leaves, against the rest of the beautiful vegetation around my house, against the new leaves on the ground... On my way to school, I was presented with even more scenes that made me long for a camera. But I hadn't one. On my way to school, I saw more of the beautiful changing trees. I saw the brightest yellow tree - brighter than a lemon - and the brightest red tree that you have ever seen. They contrasted so boldly yet so smoothly that I wanted to cry. It angered me that I couldn't capture it and share it with everyone.

That's one of those things that you feel like you just want to share. It's like you don't want anything more at the moment than to share what you've seen or heard or thought or experienced with everyone around you, even if they won't appreciate it (because no one will appreciate it as much as you do). You want to wear it on your forehead like a trophy or even a talisman because you feel more connected to it than you feel to your own heart or soul. But that was one of those things. I had another of those things when I was sitting in front of my cousins computer and I looked up and out the window. It was a bright summer day but the light only showed through the thick roof of vegetation over her driveway. There were little droplets of light in just the right places. It was amazing. Then my eyes caught sight of something more amazing. The most beautiful bright green garden lizard I - or anyone else - have ever seen was climbing contently across the screen on the outside of the window. I wanted a picture of that so badly. And for one moment, I thought I'd never want to see another thing. But then it was gone. It could have been there forever.. an eternal moment.. an eternal feeling.. if only I could have captured it.

Back to the point. As I was feeling so angry and upset about not being able to share those trees and those leaves and that filthy ground with everyone, my mind began reeling. I figured it out a while back: my mind is like a water faucet. If you've ever tried to catch and hold water in your hands, you know how hard it is. Trying to figure out what I want to say or how I feel about something is like trying to catch the water - the water is all of my thoughts and my knowledge and everything - with my hands. I'm always looking for a cup to catch the water with. I hardly ever find one so I'm frequently frustrated about not being able to say to people what I need to. I can hardly ever articulate what I need to. And I start becoming redundant like I am now. Most of the time, I just end up making stuff up to fill the void of all of the "important" stuff I lost because my cup is lost, in need of a wash, or just plain broken.

Just like now. When I started writing this, I didn't plan to say anything about any of that. But my reason for telling you is that then, looking out the cracked and slightly gaping truck window, I had one of those moments when superglue held my cup together. I don't know how effective it was, but something just kind of came to me.

In modern American cultures, life is celebrated and death is mourned. Unless you come from a family whose culture appreciates life as well as death, you are used to being sad when something dies. I was sad when my uncle died. I was sad to learn that my grandmothers had died before I was born. I was sad because my mother was sad. I was sad when I saw a dead cat on the road the other day. I was sad when someone told me how they had run over a deer. I was sad to hear that my friend's friend passed away. I was sad when Dumbledore died. A lot of people get sad when things die or are dead. Some people don't care, but most people don't have positive feelings about the demise of living things.

Life, however, for those who appreciate it, is celebrated everyday. We're always told from our birth "live life to its fullest because you never know when it's going to end." Well, I try. I really do. Lots of people do. Some people are unappreciative of the life that was given them and choose to end it themselves. Some just don't give a care. Furthermore, birth is celebrated. Birth is coveted. Birth is seen as beautiful. I was happy when my little cousins were born. My cousin was happy when her children were born. My mom was happy - I'm assuming - when my sisters and I were born. We get excited and emit perhaps more "awww!"'s than are natural when a litter of puppies or kittens are born. When there is a terminal cancer patient, everyone celebrates when the patient lives. When someone comes out of a coma, we celebrate because they can live their life again.

I know this is getting long-winded and probably contains a plethora of irrelevant things, but I'm getting to the point, believe it or not. In short terms, death is mourned and life is cherished and celebrated. Seeing those trees made me think about it. Fall is many people's favorite season. But people never think about it: Fall means all the green stuff is dying. We don't think about it until Winter when there is nothing. Barren, disgusting, inhumane Winter. What we don't realise is that during Fall, we are watching death around us. The air is swarming with death. That smell that makes us take a deep breath and smile, that's death; rotting, fetid death.

Yet we look at the trees and think: "My, how beautiful!" The crunchy leaves on the ground: we rake them with disgruntled faces and our kids jump in them jovially. We look at the colours on the trees or the fresh leaves littering the ground and wish we could mix those divine colours on a palette or have the skill to match our outfits with Nature's fashion sense. When we're sweating our life source out during brutal summers, we think "I can't wait for Fall to get here!"

We're celebrating and swimming in death and we don't realise it. Drowning in it with our anticipation of Pagan holidays or that big, fat turkey that'll be sitting on the table. Would you elect for your kids to touch dead things? To play in or with dead things? It seems that we don't recognise death unless it's rotting flesh in our faces. Then, we're horrified and disgusted. We feel dirty and sinful in the presence of death. But Fall - the Dying Season - is one of our most celebrated seasons.

It's funny how we only recognise things when they're slammed into our faces. When we're forced to look at them. Or when someone points them out for us. Guess what: I pointed it our for you. Or for myself. Death is the only thing worth living for. Death (aside from suicide) is the only unselfish thing we can do as inherently greedy humans. Death is gracious. Death is beautiful.

It may be sad when your favorite goldfish dies, but you're only sad because you won't see it anymore. You're not sad for its death, you're sad for its new absence in your life. Well, with my new discovery in my mind, I have learned to appreciate death. I can recognise my own selfish mourning and start to celebrate someone or something's escape from this world. Not that the world is a bad place, but it's okay that you're not in it anymore. Those who love you will still have you in their hearts. You don't have to have a body that pumps blood and breathes oxygen to live.

Besides, death is more of janitorial process than a departure. For instance, when the leaves on a tree die - don't forget, people, they die - they are only making room for new leaves. When salmon die on their trip up the river, they are only leaving room for the stronger, more determined salmon to reach the destination and create life. Death leaves room for new things to enter the atmosphere. What would it be like if nothing ever died? Death is a beautiful necessity and we should start recognising that and appreciating it.

When I die, I hope people are happy. I hope my death gives others the motivation to jump and holler when the next baby is born. Or hell, if the next puppy is born. Besides, if you were profound enough, if you had anything worth saying, someone will know. It will travel. You may not be quoted at every turn of the road like Ralph Waldo Emerson or the like, but the idea of the idea of the idea of the idea of your idea will remain. And someday maybe, someone who was a better thinker (or in my case, a better articulator... who am I kidding? A better thinker and a better articulator) than you can can take that idea of an idea long gone and make it quotable. Share it with the world like I wanted to share that lizard or those dying trees.

If you read this, you deserve a medal, because it is dreadfully long.

REST IN PEACE : think about this before you say it next time. Realise that you are celebrating and appreciating the person or thing's death. And then say it.