(January 25, 2005) — The crescendo of descending waves upon the rocky shore mixed with the drunken yells of sandy-blonde haired, valley boys jeering at those who jumped across the bonfire, rang in my ears as I took to the obscure waters. New Year’s Eve gone and past and fallen into New Year’s Day, and there I rhythmically rocked giving a silent cheer to the open air. Jetting back to reality from my deep-rooted reminiscence, I paddled like a sickly fish to catch a meager wave. Then clambering onto my two feet I took the wave, slicing and dicing the water, when suddenly the city lights were all in a haze and my heart seemed to have lost its momentum, collapsing to a halt. With a blink of an eye, I had transitioned into darkness to wake up a few seconds choking beneath the surface. And still to the seconds that tick by as you read line by line, I still do not know the cause of my sudden death. But the point of this story is not concerning the fact of my nearly own demise, but of the thoughts that followed afterward and their disconcerting yet strengthening effects. The distorted and mind numbing replays of what had happened and whether or not I shall die again? Supposedly, death should be the celebration of one’s life rather than a time of tears and mourning shrouds. But death is not so light of heart. Rather than a celebration of one’s life, it is a pitiful moment where one begins to truly value the fallen and incessantly envisions how he/she could have cherished what is now gone and what could have been. Supposedly before death, your mind is to flash before your eyes and it’s the time to beg for forgiveness for all your sins before your application into heaven is submitted for review.But that is just silly banter amongst overly imaginative and religiously zealous individuals who try to make falling into a six-foot deep hole so much more thrilling. The last thing I thought about was whether or not it was the wet carne asada burrito I had eaten an hour ago that was acting up in my stomach. And my mouth watered a bit when remembering my last meal! Hehe… Then after the whole fiasco and when I arrived home, I just thought, why is death such a big deal? Why is it so glorified? There is such an intricate story woven through such a natural and dull occurrence in one’s life. Death is death, nothing more. It isn’t a glorious march into heaven, such as in Tim Burton’s Big Fish , where the father is marched away into the river, surrounded by the characters and memories of the story of his life. Riveting and poignant as it is, it will NEVER HAPPEN, dearie. And also how so many people fear death just bothers me to such an extent, because why let the inevitable cause you so much stress? Why does everyone whine about that which they cannot escape? Life cannot be spent in wondering when it is going to end, for you are only slowing yourself down in the eternal pace of life. The world can’t stop spinning because you want to be like Peter Pan and live forever young. Death is simply just over exaggerated and nothing more than pathetic. There is no halo; there is no golden, whimsical harp; there is no pristine white plumage; there is no elation or splendor. It’s either being burned to ashes and scattered in the wind, or having a makeover and put in bed with the maggots.