Shadows

I was on the vast world of Tumblr today when I noticed something: one of the blogs I followed early on, eirwencorentin, hadn't posted anything for days. I really like the photos he or she posts (I've assume it's a she but I actually don't know - I could be wrong. Thus I will hense forth refer to him or her as ze - and use the chance to practice using gender neutral pronouns) - lots of beautiful outdoor scenes and magical-looking buildings and Parisian-inspired things and Doctor Who and Anime and tea. But I realized that I hadn't seen ze post anything for a while and I was wondering why (because usually ze posts something everyday). I went to zir home page and saw this as zir most recent post:

My resolution for 2012 is to die. That’s why this tumblr won’t be updated anymore.

This really freaked me out. I mean, I never really got the feeling that this person was particularly depressed - not over all. Ze posted some disturbing things - this was the second most recent post and similar to something I'd seen a month or so ago:

When I'd seen previous posts like this, I felt confused. They were usually reblogs and they just didn't seem to fit anything else ze posted. But I, of course, don't know this person. I never talked to them online. I never really interacted with ze any more than liking and reblogging zir posts. I don't know much of anything about this person. But it's still really worrying. What if ze did commit suicide? What if zir dead? How would I ever know?

It's one of the things I don't like about Tumblr - it's a bonding source for people who have a lot of depression issues and think about committing suicide. And not a good sort of a bonding. The sort that convinces people it would be better if they just ended their lives. Which in my opinion is not the best source of support.

I've never dealt with serious depression. I've never seriously, realistically considered committing suicide - I have in certain instances, when I'm upset beyond thinking clearly and feeling shitty and not thinking about my life outside this one instance. But the thought repels me even as it appears - I know deep down that I'm not really going to do it; it's just a sudden, almost inappropriate gut reaction it seems. I'm not one who has thoughts every day of wanting to end their life, of suffering depression so great they can't function. My depression - if you could even call it that - it is far smaller and non-continuous, sporadic and not serious. But I know how serious depression can really be - it's a fight every day to get out of bed, to keep moving, to not give up. Some days I have to fight a bit, most I don't. But to have to fight every day, every minute, is a sort of exhaustion I truly do not know.

Eirwen Corentin - the only name I know you by - I hope you are still out there, somewhere, fighting. I can't begin to understand what you've gone through, or why or how, but I hope you haven't given in to the shadows, that you haven't fallen into seeing the world only in terms of light and dark and all you can see is darkness. Because there is so much to see beyond the dark, beyond the shadows, so much to live for when you can find a way to know that darkness is not absolute.

But I'll never know if you did, will I? I'll never know. It's too little, too late, from the wrong person. All I can do is wait and see if you come back to your blog... just wait. And hope.

Another Loss at Day's End

http://www.thesutherlandcenter.com

Today I found out that David Shouse, one of my dad's closest friends and former bosses, died. He had ALS and was predicted by doctors to die years ago - but he didn't. He had one of the greatest attitudes of anyone I've ever met, even after he was confined to a wheelchair and was paralyzed from the neck down. I hadn't seen him for a few years, but I knew that he was nearly completely paralyzed and unable to speak. My dad did send this email to me on November 10th that David had sent out:

Well, a 5 day hospital turned into 19 days in ICU and acute care. Patti [his wife] lived there for over a week, reading my lips for the staff, checking the meds they gave me and learning about the ventilator system.

We are now home and it is much better. Patti does a great job handling all aspects of the vent. Courtney [his daughter] was also trained so she can provide some backup when she is available. We will have to find someone to help on a regular basis so Patti can go to the store, etc.

It was a bit overwhelming at first. Our routines are complicated by having to maneuver all the vent gear without unplugging something, like my breathing tubes! Check the attached photo for an idea of all the new stuff. Day by day, we are figuring it out.

Courtney was on fall break, so she stayed with us when we first got home. Patti's brother, George, then came from DC for over a week. He was a huge help in figuring out solutions. He got my computer to mount on my chair, plus a dozen other household chores that were long overdue.

All in all, we are making progress. Patti is very good at reading my lips, that's a good thing because we decided yesterday that I will not get the type of trach that allows me to speak. I don't have enough air volume available in my lungs. Oh well....

all for now, (this took me 3 days to type!).

david

I cried when is saw this. Partly out of sadness that such a good man could be so ill. And partly because he's one of the most incredible people I've ever met. To be this positive in such a situation is mind-blowing.

My parents and I had literally just been talking about him over my birthday or Thanksgiving. Without David, what my life is now wouldn't be possible. Seriously. He was the one who offered the job to my dad that brought us to Minnesota and changed everything. I know it may sound strange, but in a sort of butterfly affect way, this one little thing really did change my entire life. By moving here, I went to a different school, got a better education, decided to go to college, had the chance for so many different opportunities (musically, academic, travel) that I would have never gotten otherwise. One small thing made all the difference.

And while my heart is breaking that this wonderful, fantastic man is gone from our world, I want to just thank him for everything he did for me and my family. It really means a lot to me, and he will be missed greatly.

Live Life Longer with Science, Part II

Found this opinion article in the Minnesota Daily today: Age is a disease.

As my professor Robin always says, "I love it when life hands me exactly what I'm looking for." Indeed this was the case today.

Oh, college newspapers... you always have such interesting articles. Especially ones that take concepts expressed in Hollywood films and connects them to real life. I feel torn between this article. I mean, obviously, the writer makes an interesting point. But I just can't align myself to his way of thinking. Age just a disease? Maybe I'm being too fatalistic here, but I don't think you can avoid death. I'm not so sure you should.

Don't get me wrong - I'm as terrified of dying as the next person. But something in the back of my head clamors about Doctor Frankenstein and playing God and that maybe science can go too far. But other species die. All animals die. Why are we the ones to change it? I'm not saying there couldn't be an answer to this... but it just seems difficult to overcome.

I guess what fascinates me most about this article is that it deals with senescence ("the accumulation of damage to a person's body over time," the writer describes). Which, in my novel attempt, that's exactly what the people who become immortal have lost - their bodies no longer age and they remain where they are, "a fixed point in time and space," I believe are the words Doctor Who would use. It's an interesting, double-edged sword, both wonderful and terrible. Living forever would be great - or would it? The novel Tuck Everlasting shows other wise and Doctor Who and Torchwood certainly shows the downsides. And the writer of this article engages a debate with the movie In Time's approach to dealing with over-population. But could the solution to curing diseases like cancer and Alzheimer's really be found through such a route as dealing with senescence? Is that really the best path to take?


And thus the debate continues...

Haunted by Sondheim

This seems to be a week about Broadway and hauntings. Seriously, this is the second post in two days about Broadway taking over my mind. Watch this video below to see why:

What do you know... it's John Barrowman again. What are the odds of that, right? barrowmanilove on Tumblr posted this the other morning and I watched this and nearly fell out of my chair. Because I love Sondheim. And I love John Barrowman. And George Hearn is pretty freaking amazing. So this is a total win. It's also from Sweeny Todd, which just happened to be my favorite musical/ movie in my junior year of high school (it was the first R rated movie I saw in theaters... ah, fond memories). And I love this song. Though in the context of the show, it's a totally whack - Todd, which is the part Barrowman is singing, is about to kill Judge Turpin, the part Hearn is singing, because Turpin seduced his wife, kidnapped his daughter, and totally ruined Todd's life in general. So yeah. Though I have to admit, seeing Barrowman and Hearn play those parts would be pretty wild, though I do like the much more amicable version of this. :)

And while listening to "Pretty Women," I stumbled across this video:

Melt... just... melt. This song is SOOOO beautiful. But I felt like there had to be a catch (especially as people kept commenting that the song was so lovely out of context). Then I saw that it was from Assassins. And I knew we were in trouble.

This will be another example of how everything in my life comes full circle. Assassins was mentioned in a class I took last semester, taught by [tedesco]. In fact, on the first day of class, two students acted out part of the play the musical is based on as a mind-blowing way of starting the class. And then when watched a clip from The Producers (the bit with John Barrowman singing "Springtime For Hitler," but I didn't know that was him yet :P). Because the class was a study of how history is made, we spent a lot of time talking about history being made in not-so pretty ways, like assassinating and killing people. Which is exactly what Assassins is about.

Here's a short description about it, via Wikipedia:

It uses the premise of a murderous carnival game to produce a revue-style portrayal of men and women who attempted (successfully or otherwise) to assassinate Presidents of the United States. The music varies to reflect the popular music of the eras depicted.

And...

By developing the characters of historic assassins out of the slim biographical information found in the daily news, Assassins prompts us to consider their motivation. "(Sondheim) confronts pain in order to cauterize the decay and heal the sicknesses which lurk at the core of our society". Departing from the humanism of his previous musical Into the Woods, Sondheim suggests that political murderers are a product of the American political culture (Joanne Gordon).^[18]

At this point in the musical when "Unworthy of Your Love" appears, John Hinckley, the man who attempted to assassinate Ronald Reagan, is visited by Lynette Fromme, a woman who tried to kill Gerald Ford. Here's how Wiki describes it:

John Hinckley sits in his rumpus room, aimlessly playing a guitar. Lynette Fromme enters and tries to convince him to play her a song (asking for "Helter Skelter"), but he refuses. Fromme notices a picture of Jodie Foster, who Hinckley claims is his girlfriend. When Fromme realizes the picture is a publicity photo from a film, she pulls out of a picture of Charles Manson and mocks Hinckley for being in love with a woman he's never met, which makes him throw her out in a fit of rage. Alone, he swears that he will win Foster's love "with one brave, historic act" and sings a love song to her while Fromme individually does the same to Manson ("Unworthy Of Your Love").

Totally changes your feelings about the song, right? I felt... kind of disturbed, to say the least. Which is the point. It's how I feel every time I listen to "A Little Priest" and am like, "hey this song is great. Hold on, it's about CANNIBALISM." And then I get this wonderful, terrible sense of cognitive dissonance. Sondheim is very, very good at making me do this. Not that all of his music is dark; it's not. He's just really good about making things dark and disturbing - and yet sympathetic.

So, I can't help liking the song as a traditional love song (if a very intense, emotional one). But it's kind of weird and unsettling to know how it's performed in the musical. That's the vibe I get with a lot of Sondheim's music - it could fit into a lot of scenarios, but the one's they actually apply to are sometimes totally unexpected. Which makes them all the more powerful and beautiful and disturbing. And haunting.

And thus I've had "Unworthy of Your Love" stuck in my head for the last two days. And it kind of freaks me out. But, you know, I always feel a bit freaked out when I get a song as powerful as this one stuck in my head. Because there's no getting it out. I'm just stuck with it for now, so I might as well revel in its power. Sondheim, you win again :)

As I Lay Dying

I finished reading Faulkner's As I Lay Dying yesterday, while sitting in this little study hall/ cafeteria that reminds me of my father's alma mater. I got this cool, intellectual feeling sitting there, letting Faulkner's prose flow over me, and began thinking about how much death has come up in my thoughts this month. I don't mean to be overly morbid, but it HAS been a common theme. For one, I'm writing a book about people who can't die. You can see how it would be a common musing. For another, it's the month of All Hallow's Eve and growing closer to Dìa de los Muertos - Day of the Dead. Again, a common theme. Also, people I admire keep dying. And it's terribly depressing.

First it was Steve Jobs (I think I'm still grieving about that, actually. Is that weird? Probably, yes...). And then this weekend during an Indy race, English driver Dan Wheldon died in an accident. This might surprised you that I am a racing fan (only the Indy Series; my parents and I watched NASCAR when I was younger because we used to live in Columbus, IN where Tony Stewart is from, but I don't like NASCAR much. For various reasons that aren't important right now). My fav driver in the series is Dario Franchitti, but I really like Wheldon too - he seemed like such nice, friendly guy. Something I love about the Indy Series over NASCAR is that they seem better able to keep their cool and less... I don't know, Hollywood. They seem more down to earth. And I really respect people like Wheldon who can drive a car like that and be really damn good at it. It's just so sad how he died - something about racing accidents just haunt me. Well, car accidents in general, but especially racing ones. I remember seeing Dale Earnheardt's fatal wreck on TV when I was 10 - it was one of the first NASCAR races I watched too. There's something scarring and terrible about seeing such a terrible wreck on TV with your own eyes, then finding out later that you witnessed a fatal accident. I can't imagine what it was like to actually be at the track... that sort of thing would haunt me for a long time.

And to continue this parade of macabre, my college band is playing a Bach piece titled, "Come Sweet Death." To really get us into the mood of the piece (I think I've got the mood down enough, thank you very much) our director had us rehearse it once with the light dimmed. It was totally eerie and chilling, even if we as a group didn't sound as good as this choir. It's just... grim. I mean, it's more about life after death than just death... but still,  it's a momento mori - a reminder of that death is inevitable.

And because I'm a freak, I get reminded of Captain Jack Harkness every time I play this song (okay, if you want to get to the real passion of a piece about seeking release from pain and looking for solace in the afterlife, but is still a really dark, angst-ridden, tormented song, what better way to illustrate this than our dear Torchwood leader who can't ever die. Even after being blown up - yeah, just saw that in season 3. Holy shit, dude. Holy shit). And to top it all off, I had NO IDEA that Owen and Tosh were going to die at the end of Season 2 and now I'm all pissed off about that and THEN Wikipedia ruined the end of season 3 for me by telling me that Ianto dies and now I just want to crawl in a hole because I freaking love Ianto AND WHAT THE HELL, TORCHWOOD WRITERS WHY ARE YOU KILLING EVERYONE?!

Look, I take my sci-fi TV very seriously, apparently (I got really into Buffy freshman year. I mean, I had a dream that [mind ninja] and I were killing vampires. It was terrifying) and I'm terribly saddened that Ianto is going to die within the next three episodes. And it's just another reminder of our eventual lack of control, that we can't help the fact that we die. And it is terribly, terribly hard to deal with. Nay, impossible.

Yet, somehow, Faulkner makes me feel better. Not that he is comforting - he's really not, with his gritty, complex, grim ideas. But he's honest. And I like that. He doesn't always make complete sense. But neither does life. He wonderfully captures the difficulties of living, of dying, of grieving. And somehow, he makes it sort of beautiful. The same way Bach does with his tragic piece. The way momento moris are - great and terrible and beautiful. I guess what I like about all these things is that they articulate the mystery - the unknown. The fact that we don't know why things happen the way they do, why death is a necessary part of life, why it is so hard to deal with, why we think about death while other creatures don't, why accidents happen, why people like Wheldon and Jobs die too soon. We just don't know. And there's something comforting to know that we as individuals are not the only ones who think about this; it's a sort of strange way of uniting us socially, to know that we worry about the same things, that we are not completely alone. Perhaps thinking about death is important, a way of reminding us that time is limited, that people are important in our lives. Maybe I'm not really being morbid. Maybe I'm just being human.

A Little Prelude For Halloween

I came across this article online this morning: 'Corpse bride' and groom stage morbid wedding. Which I found because a Facebook friend posted this pic from a Vogue photo shoot for an idea of what she want to dress up as for Halloween.

And then I looked at more photos from the photo shoot...

And if you're not totally eeried out yet, I've had these two songs by Jeremy Messersmith stuck in my head the past two days that also deal with bones and death and such (because I heard about how he was performing a concert in the oldest cemetery in Mineapolis yesterday afternoon to fund-raise for the historic graveyard and I started listening to his music and now it's totally trapped in my head).

Why is there so much stuff about cemeteries and skeletons and the like popping up in the last few days? Maybe it's just standing out because this stuff really gives me the chills. Or because writing fiction about people who can't die really gets you thinking about death. Or maybe because it's NEARLY HALLOWEEN. 'Tis the season.

Loss at Day's End

I was just about to sit down and listen to my iTunes and procrastinate on Blogger about thirty minutes ago when my dad texted me and told me that Steve Jobs had died. Suddenly, I was sitting there with my computer at my wrists, crying for a man I'd never met.

Steve Jobs means a lot to me. He always seemed like the different guy in the tech world. His products were cooler, trendier and better working. He took the risk of making products that cost more in order to appeal to a more elegant, eye-pleasing, better-functioning machine. Take the computer I'm using right now - a  MacBook I've had for five years, at least, and it runs GREAT. No problems (unless it involves using Microsoft. But we all know why those issues exist). Apple is just incredible, especially with their phones and music devices. Where would we be without the iPod? Heck, even [shortage of perfect breasts], who's a computer science major, wants an iPhone - and she usually spouts Dells as the best computers in the world.

Steve Jobs changed the tech world - no doubt. His devices helped me overcome the belief that computers were weird, complicated devices that I would never figure out. This coinciding with something else I've decided tonight gives an extra oomph to how much of a part Apple computers play in my life. And though this probably seems like really rambling bullshit - which it is, because I'm still overcoming the flu, a little stressed, and grieved - I just wanted to take a moment to think reflect on a great man, before all the news channels start ask about what's next for Apple and people like [novel killer] say stuff that will piss me off. Right now I want a little bit of the sacred, a little moment of silence from a nobody who's life has been forever changed by this man. Thank you, Steve Jobs. Thank you for everything. You will be sorely missed. RIP.

CSI: Victorian London

I saw this story in my local paper: Is Scotland Yard guarding Jack the Ripper Secrets? Which I followed up with a story from the LA Times: The Cold, Cold Case of Jack the Ripper.

Ah, yes. The classic, creepy, uncertain story of Jack the Ripper is back in the headlines. I was hoping from some follow-up on BBC to, you know, explain why Scotland Yard might not want to release information. Something more than: "laying everything bare would violate its confidentiality pledge to informants, even those long dead, and undermine recruitment in the present-day fight against terrorism and organized crime. Naming names might even put the snitches' descendants at risk of revenge by the heirs of those who were informed on." Unless the murderer was Al-Qaeda or a mob, I'm not really understanding the terrorism part - some more explanation would be nice, guys. But the issue with the informants, putting their decendents at risk.... Hmm...

You know what this screams? Conspiracy theory time.

I won't lie - as a psychology major, mystery lover and quasi-CSI fan, the Jack the Ripper case has always been interesting to me, as grisly as it is. But most of the theories sounds sort of, well, weak. It was a mad butcher, it was a doctor, it was some German sailor? (that's the claim mentioned in the L.A. Times). But if we're talking that the heirs of the murderer have the ability to threaten the informants, that:

A) This makes it sound like Scotland Yard already knows who the murderer is

B) This makes the murderer sound like he (or she, I should stop assuming serial killers are always men, though the statistics are in that favor) was pretty high-off in society (by mentioning heirs, it almost sounds like we're talking about traceable family here. And the wealthy have better historical records than the poor). Not to mention revenge tends to takes time and the urge to keep ones name honorable.

C) It seems like Scotland Yard WANTS to release this information, but feels threatened in some way (especially if they think the heirs are capable of revenge). But maybe I'm reading too much into this.
 

I'm not clear-thinker on this case; I love hearing the wild theories that people come up with. My personal favorite happens to come from a movie (and a comic book, apparently) From Hell. The movie itself is kind of bizarrely done, but theory, I think, is fascinating. It basically theorizes that Prince Albert, Queen Victoria's grandson, had an illegitimate child with a Catholic shop girl. Because England is Protestant, having a child who would now be the heir to the throne and is also common born, illegitimate AND Catholic would be about as scandalous as you could get in the Victorian era. Fearing blackmail from the girl's friends and family, the Freemasons (I know, right? When in doubt, it's the Masons) get involved to cover-up the events. And one crazy member kills off all the girls (who happen to be prostitutes) who are friends of the shopgirl.

That's kind of a rough summary and probably not quite right (it's been a while since I've seen it) but the Prince Albert idea is interesting. Note: I AM NOT SAYING THE BRITISH ROYAL FAMILY IS INVOLVED WITH THE JACK THE RIPPER KILLINGS.  I am simply saying that it does seem rather curious and that it WOULD explain the threat of revenge, reasons for Scotland Yard to stay mum, threats to informants, etc. However, I have ZERO EVIDENCE.  I'm not a detective, I'm not a cop, I'm not even a historian with access to records to even give support to this idea. I'm just a blogger making wild speculations. And what wild speculations they are...

Better idea: let's start a TV series that sends CSI back in time. Better yet, they should do a Doctor Who/ Torchwood episode about Jack the Ripper. That's right up their alley, I wonder what they're take would be...

Alright, enough crazy conspiracy theories for the day. Time to start the weekend off right - with a paint party.

Dark Dreaming

So I finished the serious post first today, because I sincerely doubt that my brain will be working very well as the day wears on. I was awoken by thunder, torrential rain and hail at three this morning. And then at five, I awoke with an achy stomach and inexplicably terrified after having the scariest nightmare I've had in years. Or maybe ever.

So this is what it was: I was hanging out in this living room that looked like a mix of the townhouse I lived in on campus last year and the living room of my old house in Columbus, IN. Supposedly, the power was out due to a storm, but I was watching TV with [mind ninja] and [your cat is evil]. Then this ad for a horror movie came on and I was like, "Ooh, I've seen this trailer before! This movie looks really scary!"

So this preview starts with this girl, who looks to be thirteen or something, all dirty and with a bandage on her shoulder from playing soccer. She takes off her jersey and poses topless in front of this teenage boy with a camera and all these other guys were leering behind her, along with other girls watching. They were like in some sort of abandoned house or something and this girl pinned a flower in her hair while the guy took a video of her posing and saying, "I am Diana Villers" (haha, my subconscious decided to steal and misspell a name from Patrick O'Brian's books. Great).

Death and all his friends

Okay, so I wrote this blog for another blog (for one of my classes) but I really like it and want to save it. So forgive my recycling. Basically, this is about the book White Noise (which is fantastic - read it) and how the main character thinks about history. We could only site three passages and were limited to how many of those passages could be directly about history or death. Anyway, I had fun writing this and I'm too lazy to write anything new right now :P

This is going to be a bit tricky, summing up Jack Gladney’s understanding of history without referring to any other passages in the book, as I think I’ve developed an obsession for Delillo’s way with worlds, but I’ll give it my best.

Jack has a curious approach to history – yet one that is seems pretty familiar at second glance. He and his son, Heinrich, have a conversation that alludes to his view of history while the two of them are discussing Tommy Roy Foster, the man Heinrich plays chess by mail with and criminal who killed six people in Iron City.

“‘He says if he had to do it all over again, he wouldn’t do it as an ordinary murder, he’d do it as an assassination.’

‘He would select more carefully, kill one famous person, get noticed, make it stick.’

‘He knows he won’t go down in history.’

‘Neither will I.’

‘But you’ve got Hitler.’

‘Yes, I have, haven’t I?’” (45)

This passage shows two basic ways Jack sees history – making it (in this case, killing people, though even that may not be enough for Tommy Roy Foster to be considered important) or studying it, as Jack does; with this we’re back to our first blog post, caught between Ranke and Sam Byck’s methods. This passage also echoes the urge of being remembered, of wanting history to keep note of what happened, even if it is something terrible, as in murder. Like Loughner, Sam Byck and others, Tommy fears being forgotten – a sentiment Jack himself can understand. But as Heinrich reminds him, he has Hitler to fall back on, something to cling to and perhaps, through his creation of Hitler studies, be remembered for his work.

Jack mentions more of his association with Hitler, this time in a conversation with Denise, Babette’s daughter about the Third Reich. 

“‘They lost the war,” she said. “How great could they be?’

‘A valid point. But it’s not a question of greatness. It’s not a question of good and evil. I don’t know what it is. Look at it this way. Some people always wear a favorite color. Some people carry a gun. Some people put on a uniform and feel bigger, stronger, safer. It’s in this area that my obsessions dwell.’" (63)

Jack admits that his study of Hitler is more than just work; it’s an obsession. Connected to this obsession is the idea of belonging to something bigger than oneself – to feel “bigger, stronger, safer” as Jack says. Jack also admits that he doesn’t quite understand why things are this way. Through a simple, basic way of explaining this to Denise, he also works to convince the reader of this stance – that there is something prevalent in history with groups that bond together, whether for better or for worse – in revolutions, in political parties, and (in more current situations) the Tea party. 

Interconnected with his Hitler obsession seems to lie another obsession – death. Jack mentions it repeatedly and towards the end of the chapter, he ruminates on it once again.

“When I read obituaries, I always note the age of the deceased. Automatically I relate this figure to my own age. Four years to go, I think. Nine more years. Two more years and I’m dead. The power of numbers is never more evident than when we use them to speculate on the times of our dying.” (98)

Though he is dealing with small, local histories, reading the obituaries of people from his town, Jack is heavily impacted by this, especially as he has a fear of death, notably dying alone. He also effectively impacts the reader in a personal way, playing off of the idea of running out of time. He and Heinrich discussed this before with Tommy, and now Jack seems to be feeling it himself – he could be dead in two years. Numbers indeed do gain more power in that aspect. This certainly made me think about how I feel about my age. I always cringe a bit when I tell people that I don’t have a boyfriend, have never had a boyfriend and thus feel like I am subtly being judged. My grandmother, who was married by my age, already fears I have become a spinster. Though I’m only twenty (or already twenty, depending on your mindset) there’s already pressure that I’ve missed some specific opportunities in my life and that, as the saying goes, “I’m not getting any younger.” Through fear of missing out on opportunities (like relationships and so on) is there a fear of death? Kind of seems like it, from Jack’s way of thinking.

Life is short, time is running out – all of these common sentiments play into Jack’s worries and these powerful ideas powerfully sway the reader to understand where he is coming from. He worries about death and dying alone, which references his obsession with Hitler and bonding together into a greater entity… which involves more death. And once more, history is focused on dead people and dying. Yay.