my birfday

Yep, I’m 30. Don’t see what the big deal is…

On an unrelated note, my friend Oliver notes here that it is much better to be buried in a biodegradable fashion than like a mummy. Well I totally agree. I think if you haven’t made your peace with the fact that your physical remains are pretty much irrelevant, then now’s the time to wake up. That said, I can certainly understand why people feel a certain way about their remains. Clearly the least selfish thing anyone could do is donate their body to science, the most likely result which would be being dissected by medical students. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t feel comfortable making this contribution intellectually, but at a deeper level my reptilian brain just can’t do it. Cremation is always an option…

Finally, another unpleasant thing to think about is living wills. If I were in Terry Schiavo’s condition, a persistent vegetative state, would I want to stop living? I don’t think a weblog really the best place to talk about this (which is obviously a very personal and private decision) but let me just ask that IF this should happen to me, please take a look on my computer for a file called letmediedammit.doc. ;-)

2 thoughts on “my birfday

  1. cfs_calif

    I plan on keeping everyone guessing when I am incapacitated and/or dead. I am writing the script now. It’ll be a ratings bonanza on the major networks.

  2. jenredpdx

    need to change your picture. It’s like one of those posters in the Hallmark store showing disgruntled babies that middle-aged women sigh over and put up framed in their living rooms.

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