This picture has nothing to do with my topic, but I did promise you I’d show you our paintings.
So, I just got done watching the episode of Supernatural where Death tells Dean that he wants him to take his place for a day. “Death has a quota” Mom and I said. And then, bam, two deaths in a row: Paul Walker and Paul Crouch (the dad). I mean, it is the end of the year…
Spooky deaths are the ones that get me the most. Look, I like death as much as the next guy, but it’s just a natural part of life. I hate sounding heartless, but I’ve come to discover that I am. Unless it’s Cory Monteith, and I’m watching the episode of Glee where everyone finds out he died, and I shed a couple of tears. Or how about Jacob from 8th grade who wasn’t really my friend? Yea, then I’m not heartless.
Yea, someone can die of a heart attack, no big deal. But, you’re a heart surgeon? Spooky. You spent your whole life around dangerous animals, and you die swimming with sting rays? Spooky. You’re in six movies racing cars in dangerous situations (though most of those scenes were probably a stunt double), and you actually die in one? Spooky. Those are the ones that get me the most.
There are plenty of other spooky deaths out there (9/11, war veterans not getting killed where they went to war, but die in their own country) and I feel for every one of them. It’s not to say that I’m not sad about non-spooky deaths, I just find spooky ones unbelievable. An old person dying is normal, spooky deaths are ironic.
In other news, I went to a concert on Tuesday (the 3rd). It was well worth the six-year wait. It was beautiful, and
everything more than I expected. I knew what it was going to be like, because of how his music makes me feel. But people, being surrounded by others who felt the same way just amplified the sensation. Everyone, meet Phil Wickham: