Is anything stronger than death?

                People say “death is inevitable.” I don’t entirely believe that. Now you are probably like, “WHAT!?!?! Do you really believe people can be immortal?! Do you believe in vampires?” No, I don’t believe in human immortality. I, however, do believe in angel immortality. That is I believe in heaven. I am sure many people believe in heaven, and I know many people don’t. It isn’t a commonly discussed topic. Usually, the only time the afterlife is discussed, is at a funeral. "They are in a better place." Even at my church, we hardly ever address the subject of afterlife. I think the reason why is because it is an uncomfortable subject. If people think about death too much, they get paranoid. “What is really going to happen when I die?” “Is heaven really real?” It is terrifying to think about the possibility of nothingness, so many ignore it. Virginia Woolf, however, has no interest in ignoring death. She understands the inevitability of death and the human struggle to avoid it. She understands the in reality, you can only delay your encounter with death and not escape it. Woolf claims death is unescapable like the window pane, but my beliefs are slightly different. Are you really dying if your consciousness continues on? The only difference being where it is located. Or are you just permanently moving to a new and peaceful land? Woolf mentions no afterlife. I don’t know what her beliefs are, but I understand that my beliefs aren’t represented in her work. I am not trying to criticize Woolf’s work, because she is right about the inevitability of death on earth. She explains the truth in a beautiful way. However, death and death from earth are completely different ideas. Virginia claims, “death is stronger than I am” (Woolf 5). I can’t help but revise this statement to fit my beliefs. To me, God is stronger than death. 

The Prose Ode to Laughter

Laughter is beautiful. From a baby’s first chuckle to a giggle attack with friends, laughter is amazing. Laughter is momentary happiness, but a happiness unlike anything else.  The happiest moments of my life are when I am laughing. It is my favorite action and my favorite feeling. Laughter isn’t just a reaction to something humorous. It is a break from boringness. The butterflies in your stomach have flown their way all around your body. No part of your body is left in an unexcited state when you laugh. Laughter can spawn from Sherman Alexie’s “Because my Father Always Said He Was the Only Indian Who Saw Jimi Hendrix Play "The Star-Spangled Banner” At Woodstock.” Humorous punch lines can cause laughter. Alexie’s line “All I have is video games” caused me to laugh (Alexie 28). Laughter abates hurt, even if only for a moment, but I would rather have a moment of laughter than a moment despair. In depressing times, laughter can be the wonder drug that will get you through. However, Laughter is an action that isn’t entirely self-controlled. You can laugh at nothing, but then the laughter wouldn’t be true. You also can’t force yourself to find something humorous. Your surroundings and state of mind need to allow for laughter. I wish everyone lived in a place that laughs often. Unfortunately, this isn’t so. There are people whose despair is too extreme, and to them, laughter is merely a dream. 

Her Bad Eye

                         From the moment she was born, my little sister had something my family likes to address as her bad eye. A light murky blue cloud replaces the pupil and iris in her constantly squinted left eye. It is very difficult not to notice. Whenever new friends meet Lilly, they ask “What is wrong with her eye?”  Lilly was born with glaucoma.

It is an eye disease I can tell you very little about. The causes of this disease escape me, but the effects Lilly cannot escape from. It has caused six surgeries, daily drop routines, frequent doctor visits, thick glasses, and the most noticeable of all her clouded left eye. Despite the numerous negative consequences, her life is hardly controlled by her disability. She never complains about the side effects. She has made room for them in her daily routine.  She has accepted her bad eye as just another physical feature. She doesn’t let it interfere with her passions and desires. I am so thankful that her disability has only affected a small portion of activities she can do. For the most part she is able to do everything any typical ten your old does. Have sleepovers. Go to camp. Sing in choir. Play outside. Ride bikes. Swim. Read. She has individualized interests. She has a personality. To me she is a wonderful human being. She is not her disability. When I look at Lilly, I rarely even notice her bad eye. I never look at her and think, “There is my disabled sister!” When I look at Lilly, I see my amazing ten year old. To me her “bad eye” isn’t bad. I and many of our close friends and family often forget her bad eye even exists. However, I am afraid that she might grow to resent her “bad eye” as if it tainted her value in some way. Nancy Mairs writes in her essay “Disability” that “socialized human beings love to conform” (Mairs 6).I am afraid as Lilly ages her desire to conform will grow stronger. As young kids start to mature they become more concerned with how they are perceived by other. From personal experience, I know my middle school self’s care about what others thought of me was exponentially higher than my elementary school self’s care.  It scares me to think that Lilly will want to be and to be seen as normal. She will never meet society’s requirements of a normal human being. Her beauty is beyond the narrow definition. My fear is that when Lilly looks in the mirror she sees or will see “something queer…, something ugly or foolish or shameful”(6) I hope she sees the same girl everyone around her sees. A young, beautiful, confident, independent, kind, and loving human being. A human being whose bad eye isn’t bad at all.