Tuesday, May 18, 2010

So, Like, Wow.

If my posts become erratic or more unintelligible than usual, blame it on the fact that I'm less than a month from release day.  Pretty much all my thoughts are directed at release day.  I wake up thinking about it, go to sleep thinking about it.

I woke up this morning to the sound of cats chasing each other followed by a very loud crash.  My dining room table is kaput.  The cats destroyed it, and I very nearly destroyed them this morning.  The upside is that I had to write a really dark scene on my WIP involving a car fire, so it put me in the perfect frame of mind to do some damage.

Since The Deathday Letter is about a world in which everyone gets a letter 24 hours before their death letting them know they're going to die, I spend a lot of time thinking about what I'd do if I only had one day to live.  Mostly I'd want to see friends and family and get all my affairs in order.  But there are other things I'd like to do too.  Such as sky dive.  I've wanted to do it for a long time.  So, to celebrate my release day, on June 14, I'll be jumping out of a plane.  Then, on the 15th, I'll post the video for you all to see.  I'll probably scream a lot.

Is there anything crazy (and mostly legal) you'd do if you had one day to live?  Anything you'd eat or see or anyone you'd hunt down and say things to?  Tell me in the comments!  Maybe if there are some good ideas, I can do some of them for you leading up to the day.  

OPERATION FAT BUTT UPDATE:  194 lbs.  Finally able to fit into some of my old clothes, and I ran now job five miles without dying.  :)


  1. I guess I'm a little boring. If I had one day to live, I'd find the things I'd always wanted to do one last time and do those things. I'd probably tell everyone to come to me that wanted to see me one last time. I'd enjoy time with my family, play board games, card games. Watch my favorite movie. Eat my favorite things (there'd be a huge bbq bacon cheeseburger in there somewhere.)

  2. Ack! Your table! The new one should be made with fur. Animal(s) of your choosing. :)

    I'll be interested to see if anyone says they wouldn't tell their family or friends they were about to die. I'd tell Dave, but I think he'd be tempted not to tell me, so our last day would be closer to normal.

    My last day would be a culinary trainwreck involving numerous pies and extra-crispy bacon. Probably some ABBA, so an aural trainwreck as well.

    Congrats on the weight loss and running 5 miles - awesome!

  3. Ouch, yeah I guess in your shoes I would have a few less cats around. But on the good side, I've read the book 101 uses for a dead cat, so I would know what to do with them.

    If I had one day, I'd take my sons to see the ocean. Any coast, however I could get there. Then I'd spend the day with my family, not caring about the "usual" things and just enjoying my last moments with them. The times when we get to spend "family time" are the times I enjoy the most.

    I'm definitely looking forward to the video though. I'd love to do some skydiving myself.

  4. I love the mental exercise of the last day because, unlike things like "you've been given about six months to live", this reassures me that I need not leave anything in reserve for practical reasons. It is the combination of "describe your perfect day" with "leave nothing for tomorrow".

    My answer depends on the state/age of my child/children. If this last day was tomorrow, for example, my obligations to my son as a two year-old would supersede all over desires. In that instance, I would find/hire/beg for someone to follow me around for twenty-four hours, documenting what normal life is like. That way, like a touchstone, my son would always have that digital memory of me as his mother, the way my voice sounds, the games we'd play, the way I look with my arms around him or laughing down at him as I changed his diaper. I would think as a child losing a mother so young, that'd be the most valuable thing I could leave behind for him.

    If my children were older, it feels like the world of possibilities open up. I'd want to spend a couple hours taping some sort of farewell and lotsa love speech they could play at my memorial service for all the friends and family I wasn't able to say goodbye to in person. I'd want to watch the sun rise or set or both at the ocean's edge to get a sense of my own (small) place in the big Universe. I'd want to swim in a pool and eat fresh foods, juicy oranges and salads heaped with nuts and sprouts and all kinds of stuff. Mostly, though, what I'd love to do is give away all my material stuff. Not to my friends as like a "Hey, you always liked my stereo system" way but like driving up to somebody in a super-crap car and giving them the keys to mine, or spending every cent I had in my bank account on toys and delivering them to a battered women & children's shelter. Maybe buy groceries to make a huge meal and share it with the neighbors I've never met.

    I asked my son, who is two and a half, what he'd want to do if he only had one day left and he could do anything. His eyes lit up at the possibility of it. He said,

    "I'd want to go somewhere on a nice, sunny day."

    Sounds good to me.


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