Resumé or "...and I can take or leave it if I please."

Inspired by that scene in The Shawshank Redemption, my coworker asks me if I'd ever consider hanging myself--she couldn't handle the pain--I had to agree that hanging was flat out for me--despite my merit badge in 1988, my knot tying skills leave a lot to be desired, and I couldn't trust it to hold. Sides, during the year I came closest, the pipes that ran 6" below my dorm room's ceiling level just didn't look strong enough to hold, and there were no other viable options. She looked at me kinda strange for thinking of that, so I assured her that, yeah, there was a period in my life where I evaluated the various options. Which made her look at me even stranger.

I sat there later trying to remember the various reasons I'd eliminated assorted methods of offing myself. I think I was able to reconstruct the list, but, to be truthful to you, faithful reader, I may have substituted my fears/dreads/issues of the present time.

• Slitting the wrists--ouch, just flat out, ouch. And blood...shudder. Even hearing about bleeding, thinking about bleeding makes my head swim and my toes curl. And not just a little curl, almost right through the bottom of my feed curl. Odds are, I'd get too distracted with the toes and swimming head to finish the job,and it'd just result in an embarrassing mess (and foot injury).
• Self-inflicted gunshot wound. Couple problems with this: 1. I don't own a gun. Yes, a too-right-wing for the GOP Idahoan, and I don't own a gun--I can't afford one. This was especially true in college (when I compiled this list); 2. It's been so long since I've shot on a regular basis, not sure I can trust my aim...and then it comes to this, you gotta be sure of your shot--short range or no.
• Freezing to death. Nice, easy, peaceful. Just could never think of a convenient place to do it. Or it'd be too warm.
• Drowning. Feh. Just too easy to lift the head up.
• Pills. Just never have enough around to do the job. Hate pills anyway. Don't even take them when I need to. Just wouldn't work out.
• Jumping off of bridge/cliff/roof. Words cannot express what effect heights/the fear of falling have on me. Would literally be too paralyzed to take the first step.
• Leaving the car running in a closed garage. Again, this was college--I parked in the dorm's lot.

Ultimately, the thing that kept me going then (and has continued to at times) is curiosity /stubbornness. It's like watching a movie that you're not sure is worth the time/effort, but you keep wondering how/if the director's going to pull it off. Well, that, and a realization of the preciousness of human life and the contents of the 6th commandment--tho when you're thinking about punching your own ticket, those considerations don't usually come into play.

Naturally, this makes me think of one of my favorite Dorothy Parker poems:

Resumé

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

This of course illustrates why in an Ideal World, I'd have lived at the same time as she did, I'd have met Ms. Parker and fallen head over heals for her--although even in a perfect world I can't see myself as witty or charming to be anything other than a dalliance for an evening or two for her. Following which, I'd pine for her for at least months on end, whilst eating copious amounts of pizza and junk food to mask the pain...which, come to think of it, is pretty much what I spent 1993 doing.