"Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes, and she's gone..."

Let it be known that today Lucy Vodden died. A big week for the topic I suppose, though that's relative. But speaking of death and relatives...

Saturday my future brother-in-law found a dead body in the woods (the story is covered briefly here by the Detroit Free Press). I guess the guy crawled into his sleeping bag, put the shotgun barrel into his mouth through the padding and pulled the trigger with his toe. No positive ID on the deceased, but investigators have a promising lead.

Truly a tragedy.

But like any individual with validation issues, I've found a way to make this tragedy about myself. Actually, I tweeted about it yesterday, simply stating (in 140 characters or less) that I was jealous of my brother-in-law for unknown reasons, all the while knowing full-well that the reason is of course because it is an uncommon occurrence. It's an interesting story to re-tell, and everyone wants a good number of these in their repertoire; something to say at brunch outside of the usual mundane junk that we all resort to when cornered into a conversation.

Prior to hearing about the discovery, I had been all upset about some billing issues with AT&T and a speeding ticket I got in the morning on my way to work from the airport (totaling near $400, it's a legitimate concern I think). But then I heard about the black hole in that sleeping bag in the woods, and I got to thinking about mortality and time and getting all strung-out over the little bullshit in life, and... well, I didn't feel any better.

It's on par with someone saying to you that every day is a gift. Obviously the goal of a statement like this is to make one grateful, but this doesn't really account for degrees. For instance, I've been given some great gifts in the past. When I got my Gameboy, with Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening and Tetris 2 (this was way longer ago than I would care to admit); THAT was a great gift.

But a day where you get a speeding ticket after dropping your girlfriend off at the airport so a plane can take her back across the country, all the while budgeting in your head what basic amenities (like food or gasoline) you can forgo this month to free up some extra cash for an inflated phonebill... that's like a pair of designer wool socks on your 10th birthday.

All I'm saying is that if we must resort to the life = gift analogy, can we at least agree that some gifts are lame? Of course, I don't think it's ever really cool to get bent out of shape over a bad gift, but to acknowledge that a day/situation sucks seems totally reasonable.

[EDIT: That is an admittedly rocky path from point A to B there, so let's just consider this a prompt, particularly as I wrote this all out on my lunch break. Ciao.]