This is blog entry #1142, dear reader.
Numbers are strange things. Simplistically, they aid us to plot events and give us a sense of volume. Like time, they do not exist, but are purely labels.
My beautiful boyfriend and I saw Stranger Than Fiction earlier this week. Marketed as a comedy, I found it more a pensive and philosophical piece about life, time, brilliance and mediocrity. I didn't laugh once, but I did find myself welling up two or three times.
Harold Crick hears a voice, narrating his every move. It turns out, the narrator is Kay Eiffel, a novelist. When the narrator reveals Harold will die, our protagonist decides he must do something to ensure the finale of Kay's tale is changed. Harold wants to live.
Kay's book is called Death And Taxes. Apparently, the two things we human beings cannot escape from. We can't escape death, that's for sure, but we can escape taxes, as Harold's love interest, Ana, proves. So what's behind the death/taxes facade? I think the concepts of death and taxes ask us if our lives have been worthwhile. Did the tax we paid to central government feed a starving baby or kill school children on a bus? When we are laid upon our deathbeds, will we look back on our lives with regret and horror or with pleasure, approval and a sense of celebration? Or could it possibly be that only our death, our act of dying makes our lives something special? And is that more important than having a happy and fulfilling life? If so, does that make us selfish?
Which is better, dear reader?
A hero dies, but the story lives on.
I don't want to die. I have so much I want to do, so many things I want to say, so many places I'd like to visit. I want fulfilment. Death, for me, now, would come too soon. But I do fear it and wonder how I'd cope. I know my life, so far, has not been something I'd look back on with joy, but I'd like it to be. That's why I want it to carry on a bit more. I need to fix it. And I'm sure my death will not be something special, nothing for which a posthumous medal might be awarded. So I have to live, you see, dear reader, to change things, to make my life something worthwhile.
Existentialism aside, in the void bereft of time and numbers, I'd like a had a good life label, please.