Diary Entry 1 - Death

A good friend has become increasingly morbid of late. Faced with the realisation of her inevitable demise she seeks reassurance from those around her; unfortunately, as we work together, that often includes me.

"You know we're all going to die, right?" It's an odd way to start a conversation but at least it's honest.

"Yes." I reply, looking up from a particularly dull Excel spreadsheet. "I tend not too think about it too much."

"How? How can you just ignore it?" There's a look in her eyes - an interesting mixture - equal parts mania and melancholy. I sigh heavily.

"In much the same way that I'm now going to ignore you." I reply, returning to little slice of hell on Earth Bill Gates has so lovingly crafted for me.
I should probably be nicer but what do you say when confronted with a question like that? In addition, I'm pretty hung-over. Yesterday's quiet afternoon film screening at Leeds Docks led to a shocking amount of canned cider being consumed at Wharf Chambers, followed by a successful pub quiz outing to The Reliance. Our prize for winning was more alcohol and, in the grim light of Monday morning, victory doesn't taste as sweet as it did last night.

With regards to my friend however, when faced with the issues concerning mortality, the meaning of life and such, I believe you've got four options:

1. Ignore them
2. Make fun of them
3. Lose your mind
4. Study philosophy

Questionable decisions made in my youth resulted in me dabbling with option 3 and I've no desire to go back to that. Option 4 would inevitably result in either having to meet philosophy students or become one myself; this is out of the question, although it would at least allow me to inform my friend that I'd found a fate worse the subject of her fears. This leaves options 1 and 2 - ignorance and cynicism. They've seen me well enough through the majority of my twenties so I see no reason why they can't do the job for the remainder of my years.

Later on, alone in my room and three gins deep, however, I start to wonder. She's got a point, I am going to die. I can't avoid it forever, I've already found two grey hairs. This question is - what do I do? I don't mean something idiotic like freezing myself or having children. The idea of immortality is just as frightening as death and can't think of anything worse that sitting down with my offspring and regaling them with the litany of woes they've got to face as a result of my dodgy genes ("You think that big kid pushing you over is bad? Just wait until the anxiety attacks kick in."). 

My solution, for the time-being at least, is this - a diary of my innermost thoughts, feelings and experiences. A treasure-trove of wisdom that can be handed down the generations. I've also started online dating again, so perhaps someone will Google me prior to a meeting and see how sensitive I am.

This as good a place as any to stop for now. I'm off to experience life, I'll let you know what happens.