six million ways to die. choose one. a friend asked the other night, over coffee at dennys, if i would die for anything. a cause, an injustice, a person, a faith. anything. and after mulling it over a bit. i decided that there's nothing i would come close to dying for. i wouldn't even get maimed for anything. i don't think i love or care about anything enough to die for it. i don't even think i would want to die for myself. if that were possible. but i suppose in your mid-twenties you're not supposed to have anything to die for yet. although people do die. in their twenties. for something. just not me.



as a corollary, i was asked if perhaps i would die for freedom. and i answered that i didn't really know what lack of freedom was. because growing up in this country and this culture, you assume that you have it. freedom. and to try to postulate whether or not you would die for lack of it. is a little too hypothetical. would it be sad if i didn't have anything to die for when i'm older? or is that not sad at all?