As I fell towards the highway, I realized I was going to die. "Shit, I'm going to die today," where my actual thoughts, I believe.
Facing the realization of one's own death can have a powerful effect. Everything changes. One's view on life changes. And how can it not? Surviving one's death means a second chance on life.
Everyone wonders about his or her purpose in life. Why am I here? What should I do with my life? What is my destiny?
I'm not the type of person to sit and wait for an answer. So I've given myself an answer. I can sum it up in a sentence:
I want to fundamentally improve the world. (Hey, we gotta aim high, right?)
I knew it was wrong to throw the rock. Even if the building seemed abandoned. But, before my friends could react, I threw it.
The alarms sounded instantaneously. We hopped on our bikes and raced away. A few minutes later, a helicopter appeared overhead. We scrambled under some trees and watched it circle the building.
"Do people really live happily ever after?" asked the eleven year-old. He stared up at me with wide, eager eyes.
"Well…" I paused. I sucked in a breath. "That's a big question."
He continued to gaze at me, unwavering. I knew I had to give him an answer. It's rare nowadays for the young to seek advice from their elders, so I couldn't let him down.
What if I went to an art school for college? Kim just gave me this challenge:
For your next ramble — "What if…" The topic? Pick a person. ANY person — and play the game of "What if…" things had happened differently with this particular person.
While I could pick some long-lost friend or an ex-girlfriend and give you a real juicy story, I'm not going to. Buy me a beer one day and maybe I'll tell you that story. For now, let's see what would have happened if I had chosen to go to art school for college.
I want to be a grandfather who tells stories to his grandkids one day. Fantastic stories. Stories about how I fought off legions of rogue ninjas who swarmed the family mansion with just a rusty butter knife.
Sitting across from me in Borders Books is an elderly couple. The husband is reading a book on economics and sipping hot coffee. The wife is flipping through a magazine and eating a slice of chocolate cake.
"Young people today," the wife announces. "They're so quick to get divorced. They don't understand the value of marriage anymore."
"Damn, I can't remember what he said, but I remember it was something important."
Laura gave me the Raised Eyebrow. "You can't remember? That was like, only ten minutes ago!"
I sighed. "I know, I know…"
I've noticed that what we expect out of life has a lot to do with how happy we are.
Take my friend Maria, for instance. She's an idealist. She expects a lot out of herself and a lot out of life. When life doesn't meet her expectations, she doesn't understand why and becomes unhappy.
Yeh-Yeh is what you call your grandfather, your father's father, in Cantonese. Ngeen-Ngeen is what you call your grandmother, your father's mother.
Weekly random rambles, musings & writings of Mike Lee in San Francisco, CA