David Rakoff died yesterday.
Every time I read the obit of someone who was younger than me, and who obviously accomplished a lot more with their life than I have managed to do with mine to date, it gives me pause.
Like, "Jeezus Christ, what the hell I am DOING with my life?"
Obviously I'm never gonna be Mother Teresa, and the odds of me finding a cure for cancer are not real good, but I would hate for my obit to read, " She ... drank a lot of beer. And she read lots of books! And she tried not to be overtly MEAN to anybody ..."
That's one of the reasons I started volunteering. To beef up my obit. Kind of like padding the old resume. And let's face it, I've got some work to do, because I spent most of my twenties and thirties and, hell, half of my forties pretty self-absorbed.
Time to get a move on!