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Pick your way out...


Know any? Let's play 'em!

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Post Tue Jan 06, 2009 9:53 am

Pick your way out...

We all eventually die. That is unless; you speak with my friend, Lauren. She wants to live forever, and thinks she can. Not the whole Fountain of Youth, but just living.

Anyway, back on topic. This isn't much of a game; it's more of a sharing circle. How do you wish to die, when, and where? I'm just wondering; it's a common question among my friends.

So I will start...

If I had to pick my way to die, it would have to be in one of these two ways:

1. Shot. Although, I wouldn't die instantly; I'd rather bleed out.
2. Poisoned. That way it would be slow and I would have a chance to find out who was doing it to me.

I would rather be older than I am now, but not really old. Maybe, 45-50. That way I have a chance to live my life.

As for where; As long as it's not in front of someone I love, it doesn't matter.
Why do writers write? Because it isn't there.
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Post Tue Jan 06, 2009 6:02 pm

If I had to pick how I would die, it would be quick and painless. A shot to the head, dying in my sleep, something along those lines. I don't want to know I'm going to die until I'm dead, y'know?

And I would rather be older, with a husband and family to miss me.
Shawn Spencer: Pineapple upside down cake. Would you like some? Wait, before you answer that... are you a fan of delicious flavor?
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Post Wed Jan 07, 2009 4:00 am

Well this is entertainingly morbid.

Really, 50? No way. You gotta get old so you can pretend to be senile and annoy your kids. Hehe.

I'm with Amanda in that I don't really want to know until I die.

And poisoning and shooting? Man: ow. Possibly two of the most painful types of death...

I mean, everyone dies eventually. I don't bother thinking about it.

Though, when asked, I go with the painlessness. Pain kind of sucks.
"You smiled; and then I knew why Debbie calls you 'Sunshine'."
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Post Wed Jan 07, 2009 5:22 am

I figure, if you are going to go out, go with a bang. Also, you never get the full feeling of peace until you have great pain right before. Just think of how much better that peace will feel after that much pain. I know that it sounds kind of repetitive.
Why do writers write? Because it isn't there.
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Post Wed Jan 07, 2009 7:25 am

Well, not to get all philosophical, but that all depends on what you define as peace. Are you talking after-death kind of peace?
"You smiled; and then I knew why Debbie calls you 'Sunshine'."
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Post Wed Jan 07, 2009 12:42 pm

Wow, guys, this is starting to get deep!

Giorgia wrote:You gotta get old so you can pretend to be senile and annoy your kids.


Asolutely, Giorgia! Although come to think of it, I'm not THAT old, and I seem to annoy my kids quite a bit already without even trying!!

Jon's got a card above his desk that says: "Old age and treachery will always triumph over youth and enthusiasm". I wholeheartedly concur.

I think I'd like to grow old disgracefully then go quickly and painlessly when the time comes!

Leni
I've learned so much from my mistakes... I think I'll make another one!
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Post Thu Jan 08, 2009 7:36 am

Giorgia wrote:Well, not to get all philosophical, but that all depends on what you define as peace. Are you talking after-death kind of peace?


Yes, I am. Kind of like, I feel it then I just don't.
Why do writers write? Because it isn't there.
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Post Sat Jan 10, 2009 9:10 am

Assassination is the way to go. I wanna get assassinated because that means I'm either so famous that someone is jealous and hates me or I'm so important that someone wants to kill me to make a political statement.

Pretty good way to go if i do say so myself.
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Post Sat Jan 10, 2009 9:32 am

Hehe, that, or someone just hates you.

A lot. :shock:

Okay, just to be clear, Taylor: After-death as in Heaven/reincarnation/Valhalla/whatever?

Because otherwise, it's just kind of like... You're in pain, then you're at peace after you die, but you're... dead. Hence no feeling. Hence 'peace' being kind of redundant.

Unless you believe in some kind of after life (if you do, I'm un-confused now).

Sorry. I'll stop.
"You smiled; and then I knew why Debbie calls you 'Sunshine'."
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Post Sat Jan 10, 2009 3:06 pm

Ugh. So much for the really long post I just wrote up to agree.

Anyway... take two.

I had said that I think I understand. It's like my compulsion to do the things I like least first. For instance with supper... I eat the foods I'm not fond of to start out with and then move on to the ones I do like--saving the very best for last.

But then it's also like... reminding yourself how bad the bad can be so that you really really remember how good the good is. It's like a last second reminder of humility and thus a more pure peace there at the end that will last an eternity.

That is IF you belive in the afterlife. Otherwise I guess it's just like a really good orgasim--just doesn't last long enough. (Sorry for the explicit simile there. If it bothers anyone I'll edit it out.)
Last edited by lostladyknight on Sun Jan 11, 2009 8:04 am, edited 1 time in total.
And what of Henry, my Odysseus? Henry is an artist of another sort, a disappearing artist. Our life together in this too-small apartment is punctuated by Henry's small absences.
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Post Sun Jan 11, 2009 6:24 am

In a whole, I don't believe in the afterlife. For me it's weird. I believe that once you die...this is hard to explain.

So I believe that when you die there is that moment of pure--would the word be bliss? As if you are in great pain and you know you are dyeing. But as soon as you feel yourself slip away, the pain kind of...slips away with you.

Does that make more sense?
Why do writers write? Because it isn't there.
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Post Sun Jan 11, 2009 11:57 am

It does, yeah. I can see what you mean, and it makes sense. So does what LLK said (explicit simile or no). Actually, I'd imagine that's a pretty good one...

Anywho. Personally, I don't believe in an afterlife, so I'm going with painless death, because I'm a wimp. I mean, it'd be cool and all to know peace, etc., but I can't imagine being shot ever being peaceful. I'd be too worried about everything else.

My family, my friends. Where the guy who shot me is now. Hell, my notebook.

Granted, that'd happen no matter how I die, so moot argument.

But I believe that when you die, you just die; your body does whatever it does and whatever other people do to it, and that's that. Which is probably rather pessimistic of me, but what the hey.

If I'm wrong, I'll be pretty happy about it.

A pessimist is never disappointed. Hehe.
"You smiled; and then I knew why Debbie calls you 'Sunshine'."
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Post Thu Feb 26, 2009 2:17 pm

I'd want to know in advance, particularly for the sake of loved ones. That way, they have a chance to come to terms with it before it happens and can get more closure (like actually being able to say goodbyes and such).

As for how, I've always thought that freezing to death sounded the most appealing. But I have to say the best death I've ever heard of is that of people who died during sex.

For timing, I want to die somewhere in the 60-70 range, and definitely before I lose my independence.
"Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else." ~Gloria Steinem
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Post Fri Feb 27, 2009 4:58 am

In relation to above ^ comment, there's an X-Files episode where this guy can tell how people are going to die. He tells Mulder something like:

"You know, I'm sure there are worse ways to go, but I can't think of a more undignified one than autoerotic asphyxiation."

Which amused me because it's just like Mulder to inevitably die of autoerotic asphyxiation.

That said, I'm kind of surprised that no one has mentioned death-during-sex until then. Hehe. One of my friends wrote a script for Drama Class in which two characters died during sex.

...he won Best Script at a state-wide competition.

Goes to say...
"You smiled; and then I knew why Debbie calls you 'Sunshine'."
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Post Tue Apr 28, 2009 2:22 am

I want to get so old that Willard Scott is sick of wishing me a happy birthday. ;DD

I'd want to go peacefully in my bed, preferably from old age. c:
Allow me to exaggerate a memory or two
Where summers lasted longer than, longer than we do
And nothing really mattered except for me to be with you
But in time we all forgot and we all grew
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