If I Die
“Die, my dear? Why that’s the last thing I’ll do!” — Groucho Marx
Ok, so, I’m one of those writers who never actually writes (aka I am not reeeally a writer yet). People have always labeled me as the writer-type and nothing brings me more joy than writing, but somehow I rarely make time for it. (Welcome to the 21st Century, eh?)
Lately I decided that I need to force myself to write and I’m using a behavioral econ trick to do so (i.e. I made an “informal bet” where I owe a friend of mine $1 if I don’t write at least once every other day.)
Today I figured I would write something that I've actually wanted to write for a while, but never made time for: a letter to all my friends in case something happens to me.
Step one: When I created my Facebook, I remember putting a note at the bottom of the “About Me” section that said “Living will: just play my favorite songs to me, and I will come back jamming. Promise.”
Having done research in priming (social psychology) for two years, I have learned the true power that songs and their lyrics can have on us when we have/create an emotional attachment to them. Well, given that I am an emotional nuke, I have accidentally injected a little horcrux within dozens of songs, so I figured “Man, if someone plays the right songs, I can probably come back from the dead.” The emotions are THAT intense.
So, to begin, I am going to reiterate the idea that:
Me - being in a coma + favorite songs x emotional attachment = no coma
I wasn't a math major, so I can’t tell you the specific algebra for that equation, but I can tell you that this equation is likely correct. If I am unconscious and you manage to tap into the emotional attachments within my subconscious, I will not only wake up, I will start doing the thriller and shaking it like a Polaroid picture.
(Actually, I will probably start by doing the robot, and then build on from there, after all you are ‘rebooting’ my body back into shape.)
Some of the songs I would suggest are:
“You’ll Be In My Heart” by Phil Collins (reminds me of my mother) “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion (mock this all you want, it’s a badass love song that reminds me of lovers and friends)
“Go the Distance” by Michael Bolton (this will tell my subconscious we have some shit to do so we better get moving)
“Rattle” by Bingo Players, “Levels” by Avicii and “Memories” by Kid Cudi (this reminds me of Study Abroad in Italy and this is where I start doing the robot)
Bear in mind that I am not saying these are fabulous works of music that would pull Mozart and MJ out of the grave, I’m just saying that for one reason or another I have a strong emotional attachment to these that will bring me from funk to funky faster than a Jimmy John’s sandwich delivered by Speedy Gonzalez. There are plenty of other songs that I have strong emotional attachments to, so it’s up to you, my resuscitator, to find the right ones. No one said bringing people back from the grave would be easy, my friend.
Step two: If you are down to this, it means I am a goner. Attempts to bring me back have all failed and it’s time for step two.
First of all, cremate me. If I didn't come back in style, I sure as hell ain't coming back inside a box. Nope. Uh-uh. Not in a million years.
Second, you have to accept the fact that:
Ed is dead as lead but what’s in his head could still be read
What I mean by this is that there’s a lot of shit about me that I keep to myself. Despite my hardest efforts against it, I've always been very introvertEd (see what I did there?). In a nutshell just remember: After all he’s read and bled, too much has been bred in the head of Ed to be said…
So I write.
If you’re the writer-type, perhaps you can relate. When I said I that I don’t write much, meant that in terms of how often I write. and how often I publish that writing. But when I do write… o boy…
Let’s just say that the word “novel” is a diminutive euphemism for the text messages that I send, so you can imagine my personal writing.
Where I’m getting at with this is that once I’m dead, I expect you to snoop through all my shit. Hack into every password I've got and look into every secret I told you to never dig into. Check my Google Drive and look at my personal Facebook messages. None of that “respect for the dead” bullshit or any “he would have wanted us to respect his privacy” crap. Nope. At this point, the jig is up and I want you to know why I was hiding the things I was hiding or why I did the things I did. Why did I save certain text messages into my sim card? Why did I choose a specific ringtone for a person? What did I do on my computer all day? What was in those little black notebooks? Don’t assume anything. Don’t try to guess “what he would have wanted.” I’m telling you what I want. If you love me, if you miss me, if you want/need closure… read my shit. This is me in its truest form. These are the things I write for me to connect with myself. This is how I make sense of my world and maybe it can give you a new way to look at your world. Some people might say that you’re adding salt to your wounds or refusing to let go, I disagree. By reading all the things I never published, you can bond with the dead person that I am now and get the answers that you need. You can hear from me. You can even read my mind. No need to “let go” of someone you love. No need to “close the book” or “move on.” I’m still here, bro, all you gotta do is reach out.
By the way, you might find some things you never thought you’d find, so be ready. A friend of mine showed me this gif and we always laugh about it, because we both know it’s so true: there’s some shit that we humans don’t want other people to know about us, at any cost.
Why is that? I mean, I get it, but why? It’s such a paradox:
We hide our deepest thoughts and feelings because we don’t want people to judge us or use our vulnerabilities against us. But the people that are closest to us and love us most are the ones that are closest to our vulnerabilities; we don’t judge them and they don’t judge us. So if everyone knew each other’s weaknesses, we would all understand and probably even love each other — everyone has power over everyone and therefore no one is willing to use it inappropriately.
But we don’t share those things. And I get it. It’s hard to trust anyone with that stuff. It’s hard to give someone power over us and expect them to do the same in return. We don’t know if they’re going to be honest or not. So we just have to trust them. But that shit’s scary. It’s a prisoner’s dilemma. Even in game theory the “winning strategy” is usually not to give yourself away because then the other person has the winning cards if they look out for themselves instead of looking out for you (and sadly, this world is all about winning against someone instead of with someone, even within team sports where someone “has to be” the MVP). If you tell someone almost-the-truth and they tell you the full truth, you still hold the upper hand in case the other person lied or decides to use your vulnerabilities against you, and that’s what we tend to do. But the only way for both people to win this prisoner’s dilemma is when they love each other and both people are willing to say “go ahead and screw me over, because I won’t screw you over.”
The reason I am telling you to snoop through all my stuff is because I’m doing my best to give in to “the power of vulnerability” while I’m alive. I try to make myself as transparent and excruciatingly-open as possible because that’s how you connect with people. Truly connect. And I believe that at the core of it, we humans are all the same. But we refuse to let others see it. It’s hard to know who to trust. Some people want love. Some people want power. If you give someone power over you and they want love, they will give you power over them. But if you give someone power over you and they want power… well… game over…
So now that I’m a goner, it’s game over anyway and it doesn't matter how much power you want over me, you can’t have it all. I’m giving it to you. Interestingly enough, it’s only when there’s no “me ” left that I am able to give everyone power over me without fear of who it is or what they truly want.
So snoop through everything I have written, annotated, and thought about and you will have the absolute power over me that I was never brave enough to give you while I was alive. Who knows, maybe having power over me after I’m gone will make you wish we had given power over each other while I was alive. Maybe it will give you the courage to give someone else power over you in hopes that they do the same, because it’s worth it.
