Mar. 2nd, 2012

ostarella: (Tired)
Some may think it's silly, but the death of Davy Jones kinda hit me hard. Not that I was a fangirl or anything (I preferred Mike Nesmith, actually) but I did really like the Monkees and their songs. Yeah, it was a silly show but it was fun. Innocent. Hell, I was ten when it first aired, so why not?

But it was a reminder of things passing - and at my age, who needs more, right? Especially when one considers that he died of a heart attack, age 66, vegetarian, with a very recent clean bill of health. Brings the whole uncertainty thing down on top of one like a ton of bricks.

I've been one of those people who live each day one at a time, mainly because so many of my plans ended up in the dirt, no matter how hard I tried to work them out. Now, I'm finding myself in a quandary of sorts. Do I live each day knowing no one is guaranteed a tomorrow, or do I make plans because no one knows how many days they have left? I know it sounds like they're the same, but they're not really. The first is not worrying about tomorrow, the second is trying to get as much done in whatever time is left.

Or maybe I'm just depressed because another person from my childhood is gone and there seem to be so few good people left.

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