Death, I guess, is on my mind.

I seriously can not wait until Fall Break! It is a little over a week away...but before I can get to this panacea of nap-time, I must first do two more performances of "Sun,Stand Thou Still," rehearse several directing projects, and by the grace of God, do well on my Transcendentalism American Literature exam.

If I fail any of these prerequisites, I will most certainly die a most horrific and bloody death. I can see it now. My Professors all gathered round, clothed in the loin-cloths of Academia, binding me to my laptop and sacrificing me to the god of scholarship, as punishment for my failing. Pencils to and fro. My roommates pillage my room as the entire events of my life flash, gloomily, through my conscience like the many inky transactions scrawled in my checkbook.

I wonder what it will be like to die. Nobody can answer this for me, and I don't believe I would actually want to know. For my character in the play, I journaled on this very topic--and what it would be like to be resurrected...

Here is what I wrote:

First, it's pain. Enormous, incredible pain--shocking until I can't stand it anymore and I can't see, and then I slip. Quickly. I lose feeling and I sink into the ground. Then, maybe it's years later, I don't know, but it feels like I've been away for a long time--a black spell that I can't remember. Then it's a tug--a feeling like I'm floating. Dizzy, warm, disoriented, tumbling and spinning and faster and faster until I'm on fire and then my body surrounds me with a lurch and it's 1000 lbs and cold like ice. It moves but I don't have control. It's like I thaw out. My fingers hurt--pain shoots all over--flickers through my body like an electric shock and I'm suddenly aware of an uncomfortable throbbing in my neck. My pulse. Disoriented. I'm back.