Memory

I was 20 years old
The first time I went to Auschwitz
I didn't take a single picture
If those images aren't burned into my memory
I wasn't worthy to be there.

A jaded lover / a hopeless romantic

So, Houston Calls will forever be the band I go to when I am feeling a little romantic. Ahhh....innocent crushes. I'm way too awkward to ever say anything, but it is still pretty sweet when the girl you are interested in will take time out of her day and talk to you.
I'll let you all in on a secret, much as I affect an air of arrogance and cockiness, it is all a facade. I'm actually really shy, sweet, and romantic. If I'm holding a coherent/normal conversation with you, that means I (probably) don't have any romantic inclinations towards you. If I clam up and shuffle awkwardly and glance nervously, that means I like you and think you are cute.
Also, why are girls not more assertive?

I know you can’t believe, dear, that I would say this
But once-upon-a-time’s can happen and all you have to do is grab them.
Stay near. I hate to make you wait, dear. I’d never want to.
But what’s a boy supposed to do when happy-ever-afters might come true?

Anytime, I would be there for you.
Open your eyes, I’m here and waiting for you.

"Stay With Me Tonight" - Houston Calls

(also, when he key changes for the last chorus....pure magic)

Stickers

I was cleaning my room the other day, and I found a bunch of stickers that I took from my house in Wisconsin. I put two of them on my laptop. One is of Snoopy laughing - a reminder not to take life too seriously, to always be willing to laugh no matter how I am feeling. The other is of Snoopy at a typewriter being serious and typing - a reminder that I need to buckle down and do some legitimate writing, to do what I love, to make some art.

Also, I will always love Peanuts. Snoopy in particular.


Also, I am pissed that the Kill Hannah pre-order digital downloads aren't working. Oh well, it will be sorted out soon enough, and the hard copy of the album + other sundry items will be arriving within the week!!

Hospitals (a true story)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2exE-td4F3k

Maybe it is due to my general sense of emotional retardation. Maybe it is because I have spent too much time in hospital waiting rooms. Maybe it is the rain, the late night, the time of year. Whatever the reason...this video always makes me cry.

I really love music videos that tell a story. Yes, watching a band jam out for 4 minutes can be sweet, but I think a music video should be just as artistic as the song it is conveying. And this video succeeds. And it is especially close to my heart because of this past Spring semester.

It was an average day, a few weeks into semester, when I got word that something was wrong. My friend had cancer. There are no words to describe what I felt, especially since my old neighbor's/best friend growing up dad had died due to cancer when I was in Hungary. John Bruyette was an amazing man, full of life, laughter, and acceptance...he died and I couldn't even attend the funeral because I was half a world away.

So, I learned that my friend had cancer. And I mentally prepped myself for The Phone Call. When I saw she was calling, I went out into the less-used entrance of the Library Annex (by Meeter Lecture Hall). She was on serious painkillers, and I knew what she was about to tell me...but when the words, "I'm in the hospital. It is cancer" came over the phone, I lost it.

Later that day, I went with the other members of Sojourners' to visit her. We may be a bunch of alcohol consuming punks who don't know our heads from our asses, but we care for our friends and will stick with them in their time of need. Still, it was hard to see her there. Normally she is the epitome of life and love and laughter...but there she was, tubes stuck in her, looking weaker than I'd ever seen. She managed a weak smile when we came in, but she was hurting. She retold us all what had happened to her. It was exactly what she had told me over the phone, but it was evident that she needed to tell her story, to come to grips with its reality. There wasn't a dry eye in the room.

Due to the medication and the overall overwhelming nature of the situation, she was prone to panic attacks if there were too many people in the room. After a few minutes, we were all sent out into the Waiting Room. Bad coffee, worse TV, and year old magazines. I'm pretty sure we didn't say a single word to each other. Just looked blankly at the tiled floor.

It came time for us to leave. We four waited outside her room as the nurses took her bloodwork. In that sterile hallway, a housemate took me aside and asked me how I was doing. In the midst of this rollercoaster of emotion and tragedy, he still thought of others. I had been wrapped up in my own pain. To have him ask me how I was doing meant the world.

The next day, he and I went back to visit her before class. Even a day later, she was doing better. She could walk. And we walked her around the floor. She could smile again. And I guarantee you, there is nothing more beautiful in the world than seeing someone smile. She was still so exhausted and worn. We left, and I promised to visit the next day (Sunday) early in the morning to have a church service with her.

That night, we had a party at the Sojourners'. I was in mental/existential funk, so the alcohol really affected me. I was less drunk and more just...not there. I couldn't make decisions properly, in part due to the alcohol, but mostly because I just needed to disconnect. Anyway, the party ended up being really shitty, and I slept in my housemates room, got about 3 hours of sleep, before I woke up to go visit her in the hospital.

I must have been a sight that morning. I no doubt reeked of cheap booze. Disheveled hair. Unwashed clothes. I generally just looked like a sketchbag. But I showed up at about 6.45am, Bible in one hand, and Tennyson in the other. And we spent 4-5 hours together that Sunday morning. I read her some passages from Psalms about God's providence and care (were those passages for her or for me?). She made me crawl into bed with her and sleep for an hour. I held her hand as the nurses took her blood. I walked with her around the hospital floor and was generally a bad influence on her. I tried so hard to convince her to steal a nurses gown and a stethoscope and to go "diagnose" other patients on her floor. I made her laugh so hard, I was honestly afraid she wouldn't be able to breathe.

It was just amazing to see her transform over the course of 3 days. Day 1, she could barely smile, had no idea what was going on, and was the weakest I'd ever seen her. Day 3, she was outwalking me, laughing harder than ever, and her smile let me know that everything was going to be alright.


And for those of you keeping close attention to this insanely long post - this is the Tennyson I read. The Prologue to "In Memorian A.H.H."


Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;

Thine are these orbs of light and shade;
Thou madest Life in man and brute;
Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot
Is on the skull which thou hast made.

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.

Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou.
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

We have but faith: we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see;
And yet we trust it comes from thee,
A beam in darkness: let it grow.

Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell;
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,

But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear:
But help thy foolish ones to bear;
Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.

Forgive what seem'd my sin in me;
What seem'd my worth since I began;
For merit lives from man to man,
And not from man, O Lord, to thee.

Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved.

Forgive these wild and wandering cries,
Confusions of a wasted youth;
Forgive them where they fail in truth,
And in thy wisdom make me wise.

Building off the last one

The last post was getting a bit long, so I thought I'd make a new one. Stream of consciousness right now. The need to write is burning in me, and this is blog helps with that.

After a glorious day, I'm ending it with a glass of Pinot Noir. A couple candles flicker in my dark room. The gentle noise of the rain melds with the soft melody of Lights' "Drive My Soul".


When we were driving in the countryside, we saw a middle-aged yuppie cycling. For the next 10 minutes, my housemate and I hypothesized about what his existence was like. The upper-middle class American "dream". A big house, a wife, 3 kids, success at his job. Ultimately empty on the inside. No real life anymore. A slow decay. A carefully crafted facade that is only skin deep. A sickening slide into mediocrity.

I never want that.

A part of me is scared to death about graduating college. I've been in school for roughly 16 years. It is pretty much all I know. I don't really know what I'll be doing after college. I have a few vague ideas, but everything is so transitory and uncertain.

But here is one thing I will believe until my dying day. As long as you surround yourself with good friends, it really doesn't matter what you do. Of course, you should still try to follow your dreams, but it is important to realize that people are really what life is about. Relationships. Friendships. Something our American mindset doesn't really stress anymore. The American Dream is all about being successful. A narrow definition of what success is. The corner office. A trophy wife. 2.5 kids. A big house in the suburbs. Surrounded by people just like you. Vapid, empty, meaningless. The never ending shuffle of promotions, cocktail parties, mortgages, acquiring newerfancierbetter things than the Jonses.

Song lyrics are meaningful to me. And I think that the song "Calendar Year" by Haste (now defunct, sadly) is especially moving.
And indictment of our empty culture that values "Security" over Risk. That defines what Progress is. Draws lines in which you have to live your life and abide by.


Remember our worlds much younger
focused on the goal and not the risks
More years go by and the less we notice
living in fear of any consequence
What is compromised?
Settling for security
"It could be worse" as life's philosophy means
that nothing will be any better
Trading ambition and our own confidence

I will not be measured by days
Bound for nothing
I will decide my own fate
Our expectations match the sky
but our reservations block the light
Here it comes again

First to the punch
they will decide limitations by which to abide
Define achievements by whose standards
No fear of living beyond the lines
A revolution against apathy
I will decide what progress means to me
These rules that bind me
I will change...ignite this spark into a flame

Halcyon days / Autumn Beauty

Today was a great day. I had lunch at Bombay with my sister and her boyfriend which was a lot of fun. After that, things were looking grim. I was hanging out not doing anything, shiftless, avoiding homework. Another Sunday wasted in front of a screen.

Then, everything turned around. 2 of my good friends and I went out for coffee, and decided to go for a drive. Meijer Gardens was closed by the time we got there. By the time we would have reached the beach, it would have been sunset. So we just went cruising in the countryside. Small Midwest American towns. Autumn beauty. Open windows, wind in our hair, laughter, the beauty of youth.

We pulled off the road and parked in a quarry-esque place and walked down to the river. The shore line was beautiful, not too heavily wooden, still green, not too many artifacts of humanity. Standing on the bank, looking across the expanse of water, my housemate decided to hop in the water. He stripped down to his skivvies and waded right in, cursing all the while.

It took a few minutes for my other friend to do the same. I was left alone on the shore, soaking in the beauty of the moment...but not participating. A neutral observer. Thinking how everything was so perfect, so storybook. It took me a few minutes to realize that something was missing. I could observe this moment all I wanted. I was perfectly content on the shore, watching my two friends splash about.

But I realized that even though I was content, I would always regret not jumping in. So I stripped down and tentatively waded in. It was cold, the riverbed was rocky, and after just a few minutes my heartrate was jacked and I was having problems breathing.

And it was beautiful.


And I realized that in my life, I stand on the shore a lot, looking at the water, but never jumping in. I can act impartial, neutral, outside of it all. But I you only live once.




Addendum - the ride home was a lot of fun also. Our clothes were wet and muddy. We looked a bit like drowned rats. We were cold. And we sang together. Driving as the sun was setting, belting out Avril Lavigne, Green Day, Nickleback....every bad song we could think of, we sang.

Autumn

Lazy Autumn Sundays are best spent curled up in bed listening to Camera Obscura. Or going out to lunch with your sister and her boyfriend. Or maybe going downtown to catch Artprize.

Lazy Autumn Sundays are NOT meant to be spent doing a takehome exam.


He likes to read books written for girls
Prides himself on being a man of the world
It’s in the darkest places he gets his thrills
He will disappoint you, if you see through his perfect smile

Started Nothing

So, the last few posts have been me being super whiny and self pitying, and I apologize for that. I have a bad habit of thinking too much about myself and getting too hung up on little things.

So, in honor of that, I thought I share a relationship that me and a great friend of mine have. We are essentially the same person. We think a lot the same, feel the same ways about things, etc... I mean, of course there are differences, but the point remains the same - we are essentially the same person.
Well, it ends up that we have a mutual friend who we are both talking to at this time....and it turns out that we both basically say the same thing, "Well, it seems like X is having a hard time with life right now. I'm worried about him."
It made me laugh when our mutual friend told me this. One of my main faults is that I can often see the struggles of others, but not my own. Well, my good friend sees my struggles and when I am hurting. When I am down, he is up and there for me. When I'm sad, he's happy and trying to help me up. And vice versa.

Honestly, a lot of the time, I freak out about my life and have a hard time coping with shit. But whenever I really stop and think about my friends, or even just my acquaintances, I can't complain or even feel bad because....I know a lot of cool motherfuckers. Yes, we all have problems, and we all know each other's problems, but we all still care and try our hardest to help a brother/sister out.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - fuck yeah my friends. Some of you have lived with me and dealt with my shit. Some of you went to Hungs08 with me and dealt with my shit. Some of you have known me since Highschool and still deal with my shit. And I can never thank you enough.

Dreaming

So last night, I had some pretty crazy dreams.

First, I went and got pizza with Bill Kaulitz (from Tokio Hotel) late at night. It was sweet because I could speak German with him...and I tend to remember I could speak a decent amount of it still. But then we got kicked out of the pizza place because he kept getting naked...apparently that is what Europeans do.

Then, two people got turned into goats, and had to go on an epic quest to be healed. They went with a gandalf-esque character and two others. It was a long and kind of boring dream.

Then, I was living in some massive sweet tower-house with a bunch of people, but all the local townsfolk came to kill us, so we were running around everywhere. And the first time, we all got killed, but then I thought "Wait...let's try this again", so the dream restarted. And this time, we just hid in closets and secret passageways. And at the end, we had a massive shootout with nerfguns at the top of the tower.

Then, it was winter time, and I was walking home with the musician Lights, and we stopped to build a snowcastle. And it was super cute. And then it warmed up and everything melted.

I also remember there being something about this girl I think is really cute.

I've been so mad and furious
Love must be just for idiots

I'm shutting down
Breaking down
Getting out of this shithole ghost town
Cuz all these people keep asking me
Why I have my grandma's sad eyes

So I reach way down in the dark
To the bottom of my rotted heart
To a place deep in my black lung
For the song I haven't sung
Since I was a little brat
From Connecticut
When I felt so alone against the world
Always picked last

It saved me then, will it save me now?

It goes - "Universe, wrap your arms around me. Make me strong, so I can take on anyone."

I must have my grandma's sad eyes.

Mondays...

I am normally not a fan of Mondays. I am at school for about 12 hours, but this Monday was even better because I was suffering anxiety attacks all day. Fuuuuuuu-

But this weekend was good, if a little eye opening. I got to talk to some old friends. Play a little bit of matchmaker (I'm good at hooking people up with one another, but I suck at getting my own shit together...oh well, that's always the story). Paarty a bit too hard. Grill out with the neighbors. Enjoy life.

I'm trying to take life one day at a time.

Addendum

Stop. Rewind
to the moment in time
you stopped caring like I do

Don't try to devalue
the times that still feel true
The rest you can lie through



(and all the softest sighs, and all our lovers' pleas
are just a postscript now wrapped in parentheses)

That guy

So...it has been a year since I first went to Hungary. And I loved that country. And our trips to Transylvania (Gatorade bottles of cheap booze and coke to keep me warm), Poland, Ukraine, and Croatia...but mostly what I remember is me being a fucking trainwreck. An alcoholic, fucking shitstorm. And in hindsight, I've tried to tell people why I was the way I was...but I thought I would just right my story here for my own good.


I got to Hungary, and I was the king of the fucking world. 3 days later...I was in abject misery. The girl I loved (and I loved her, and fuck anyone who says shit like "you were too young to feel that") broke my heart. She stopped talking to me. And when she did end up talking to me, she made it painfully clear that she had moved on.

So I did the only thing I could -- I turned to cheap booze. I drank all the time. Like, the amount that this hurt me...I can't put into words. The love of my life, the person I was thinking about moving 1,200 miles for....broke my heart. 5 years of my most formative years. My own fault for that.

So, she broke my heart. And then I decided alcoholism was the best route. It was cheap, and it numbed the pain. And being cheap and easy, it lasted for too long. All semester. All Interim. All Spring semester. Summer. Fall. Weeks will pass where I kick the habit. But I still miss her. Every day. I miss her, and what we could have been.

And now I am too afraid to even let a girl know that I like her. Or even that I think she looks good. I'm so fucking awkward around girls now, it isn't even funny. I will always be a great friend to girls, but I will never move past that. And that is both good and bad.

I’m adding water to w(h)ine
Pretending I’m not that guy
I’m cracking jokes all the time
to cover up a steady decline


And now to Her.

Hey, I know you've probably forgotten me at this point, but you once told me that you would let me know when you were ready to talk again. Well, I'm letting you know - I'm sorry I fucked up so hard when we were ready to date. When I was growing up, I never knew if we should really date, and the whole long distance thing really freaked me out...and by the time I got over my fears, you were so turned off that you couldn't commit. I accept that. I was shitty at commitment, so the fact that you the same with me is not a big surprise.
But I just want to also say that...I forgive you. And I miss you. And I hope that things work out for you. I know you haven't had the easiest life, and I sincerely wish I had been the guy you would turn to and let comfort you. I won't be that guy. And we won't even speak any more. But I still love you. And I hope you find what you are looking for.

And I'm finally burying the ghost of you and me. Farewell. I'm still here, and I'm still waiting...but only if you want it.

-p

Way Out of Here

If you want, you can skip to the last two paragraphs....


Friday night finds me alone in my room. Watching episodes of my favorite shows. Relishing in my new favorite drink (vodka tonic, just a splash of lemon juice). I could be out right now. Out with friends. A few too many drinks. Maybe some shy smiles from across the dance floor. Some drunk (in?)sincerity. But I just don't feel like it tonight. Tonight is one of those nights best spent alone, trying to figure out...figure out what? Who I am? What I am doing with my life? My overall worldview? I guess I just don't know anymore. All I know is that my mind and soul need some time to themselves, and they are itching to burn a hole through a piece of paper (electronic paper works also), so I thought I'd oblige.

Life has been mixed as of recently. My classes aren't too hard, and I even enjoy some of them. Work is decent. I get a good amount of hours, I like the people I work with, and it isn't too hard. I have a good group of friends. I'm a total trainwreck, but they still love me.
So why do I feel so dissatisfied and restless?

I guess it all really came to a head when I finished Lev Grossman's book "The Magicians". The premise is not unlike Harry Potter - a disenchanted boy is thrust into the world of magic unexpectedly, except in this case, he goes to a magician's college. And while the books that "The Magicians" is derivative of (Harry Potter and the Narnia series, primarily) portray kids being thrust into a magical realm and all their dreams coming true...Grossman portrays a world that resembles reality. Quentin gets what he always wanted - a world of magic - but he isn't happy with it. He even gets to travel to the world (essentially Narnia) he read about as a kid - but he isn't happy with it. And so on...
When he gets what he wants, it isn't that his expectations are too high...it is just that they really just don't live up to what people said about them. After he graduates from his magical college, he and his friends all live together, but mostly what they do is drink and do drugs and drift steadily further apart. When he gets to Fillory, they have no idea what to do, so they drink and wish they had drugs. When they get a quest (the thing Quentin wanted more than anything in the world - a quest, an adventure to give his life meaning and direction)...people die and it is not like it is portrayed in the books. When they meet the god of Fillory (imagine Aslan), he is a prisoner, powerless in his own realm. They do defeat the evil Beast...but at what cost?

I read that book, and it was gripping, and I loved it, and when I finished, I just felt...empty. Not happy. Not sad. But vacant. Numb. Empty. I don't want to end up in the shiftless, directionless, hedonistic, and desperate life that Quentin and his friends find themselves in. But I know that there is a good possibility I will.



A lot of people are happy, and I am genuinely a pretty happy guy. But I will tell you about the time I really felt true joy and true contentment...


I was in Croatia, and we were digging holes and replanting trees for a church. It was menial labor, it was mediocre weather...but I had a group of good people with me, and I could see the fruits of my labor. And when we finished, I went biking. 4 of us. Croatian backroads, late Autumn, early Winter...it was the most beautiful thing in the world. We saw a grand total of 2 cars the entire time. The cold air was hard on my lungs, but I wouldn't trade that for the world. And I'd trade the world to have that back.

Come Undone

It has been 2 weeks? 1 week? Of classes so far. And already, I'm feeling the strain. I was never the best student, but I was able to skate by on natural ability and charm for a lot of my time in school. But now...I just want it to be over. I love the people at college, and I even like going to classes and learning....but the work just seems so pointless to me now. Utterly meaningless. Why yes, I can write a paper analyzing the theme of Orthodox Christianity in Tennyson's "In Memoriam", but why? Why?!?
Ever since we are little, we are always told to do something, but rarely are we told why we should do it. And if we are given a "why", it is usually a lie. "Get good grades in highschool - why? so you can get into a good college. Get into a good college - why? so you can get a good job. Get a good job - why? So you can make money and support a family? Have a family - why? Because you don't want to be alone."
And on and on and on.

I have two words for that kind of life - Fuck. That.

I'm trying (though my attempts are feeble) to start living for things that matter, things that I want to do, things that make me happy. Not just some rat-race, suburban life.
Let's just see how this turns out.

Life

Now, I have been working hard on trying to cut down on my profanity (I am pretty fucking vulgar), but let me just say - "Fuck yeah, my life!" I mean, the more I really think about it, the more my life really does kick ass. I live with an awesome guy, and that awesome factor will increase once Gremlin gets back from China. I have some awesome friends, and have a whole bunch of really cool acquaintances. I'm pretty good looking, have an alright personality, and am pretty well-adjusted to life.
I mean, of course, I have problems, but overall, I think the positive outweighs the negative.

So, fuck yeah for being alive. And for trying to make the most out of life.

I'll never be perfect, or even something closely resembling perfect, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I love growing and maturing and progressing. And hopefully I'll always be doing that, and not end up all stagnated and lame.

Mind vs. Heart (The Cage Match)

I won't run now,
I won't run I'll hold it down
Even though it is a struggle
Just to stand my ground
I wouldn't have it any other way.
My heart is saying go
but my mind is saying wait, wait, wait

"Nagoya" - Houston Calls


I often wonder which one should reign supreme - heart or mind. When there is an either/or decision to be made...which one to follow. Impulse or rationality? I've been in plenty of situations where I follow my cold logic rather than burning impulse. And sometimes I think I've made the right decision, but other times, I kick myself and still wonder what my life would have been like if I had just followed my desire.
And I often feel that my rationality holds me back from life. Maybe I should act on impulse a little more often in the future. Find that healthy medium. Between reckless abandon and common sense.


Damn the state of our hearts and our minds
As our resolve slowly unwinds.
My eyes wide open, its poetry in motion
How our minds could let us pretend my heart's not in it.

"Behind the Gun" - Houston Calls.

Living in Misery

It is strange how much music can affect me.

I'm listening to the song "Living in Misery" by Kill Hannah, and I feel a passion boiling underneath my skin. I want to scream until my lungs collapse and my voice is gone. I want to cry and break something. I want to create beautiful art. I want to grab someone and hold on tight. I want to tear into an empty page with the weight of a thousand restless words.

To say this song is massive is an understatement. Some bands try to make epic songs and they come off as cheesy or forced. It has been a long while since I've heard a song this moving. The slow start. The slow adding of instruments. The children's choir at the end of the song. The perfect capture of despair and hope. Light and dark. The feeling of utter failure, yet the need to go on. To hold on.

Look in my eyes
And tell me just what you see
Schools that look like factories
A slowdance to our own heart beat

Look in my eyes
As missing children fill the street
Joan of Arc and Josephine
You can hear them sing...

We are living in misery
But we have to hold on...

Welcome to the End

I've officially sampled all my classes for this semester. The start of my last year. Mouthbreathers in every class. Religion will be the highlight, followed closely by English. Looking forward to Ballroom Danceclub. Hopefully, I'll get into Yoga. If not, I'll still run and try to pump iron with my Adonis of a roommate. I'm determined not to ever get fat. Or overweight. Or pudgy. Fuuuuuuu- all this weight I've gained. Time to rock the rabbit food. Need to get this mullet cut. I look like a pedophile. Not the best way to attract a woman. Damn my fear of commitment. I always think about emailing Her, but I know that would be a sign of weakness. It would be me breaking. I won't let that happen. I will not crawl back. No matter how damaged it made me. Should've been in bed hours ago. Insomnia. Class at 12.30pm tomorrow. Bottle of wine hasn't helped sleep status. Too much coffee today?

I want you to go away from me
I want you so much to stay with me

Perfect Symmetry

I sift through the wreckage for signs of life
Scrolling through the paragraphs
Clicking through the photographs

I dream in e-mails
Worn-out phrases
Mile after mile of just empty pages

And maybe you'll find life is unkind and over so soon.
There's no golden gate, there's no heaven waiting for you

Who are you? What are you fighting for?
Holy truth, brother I choose this mortal life.