Alphabet Soup: September 2006 Archives

Suicide Notes

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Don’t worry; even though I have already composed my own epitaphs, and even though I have been officially declared blue (in fact, I’ve been certified… can I put that on my resume under “qualifications?”), this isn’t my final magnum opus by a long shot.

Besides, according to my beloved Time/Life Medical Encyclopaedia (I’m back in South Africa, so I have to spell it in proper English now), killing oneself isn’t all that easy. Also sounds like way too much work for the likes of me. Hanging oneself or flinging oneself off a skyscraper requires movement. And not just any kind of movement (which, as you all know, is quite a stretch for me), but getting up there requires VERTICAL movement. Way too exhausting a prospect.

And then there are all those methods: Pills, noose, electrical socket, gas, poison, knife, razor blade, gun, bath. It’s a bewildering array of choices for someone as naturally indecisive as I am. By the time I’d make up my mind and get around to it, I’d be close to the age for natural death anyway. Can you imagine opening the obituaries and reading: Redsaid. Tragically taken from this life by suicide. Age 98. Her suicide note, scribbled in shaky hand, was incomplete (just like so many stories on her blog). What was she thinking, writing "to be continued" at the end of her suicide note?

So no. I don’t think I’ve been designed for suicide. I mean, I gag when I have to swallow three headache pills. So I’d probably get it all wrong and choke when what I was really trying to do was overdose.

I can’t even slice bread, so I should probably just forget about getting a proper grip on a sharp object to slit my own wrists. And I couldn’t possibly drown myself a la Ophelia, because my round body is far too buoyant and so I’ll just keep on bobbing back to the surface.

As for gas (oooh, how poetic!), let me tell you a little story:

When I was in high school (a.k.a. Phase One of my Female Angst), I took a liking to the dark poetic stylings of Sylvia Plath. I obsessively devoured all her work, memorising every poem (from Ariel to The Mirror), I even read her only novel (The Bell Jar) over and over, and when I was finished, I moved on to the biographies about her. Which is how I discovered that she had committed suicide by sticking her head in the oven.

It sounded so romantic and awful and dramatic to my young, twisted-yet-impressionable mind, because I could not fathom how she had brought herself to do it.

I tried it. One afternoon when I was home alone, I turned on our oven. And I just couldn’t do it.

It took me the longest time before I figured out that Sylvia’s suicide oven had worked with GAS, and not, like all the ovens of my youth, with electricity.

So for years and years I had gone through life mistakenly believing that she had actually broiled herself to death…

I guess I should rather just die than kill myself.

is a South African girl living in South Africa. That doesn't sound very original, we know, but you might find it remotely interesting when you learn that she has only recently returned to South Africa for the first time after a nine year, one month and two week (non-stop!) stint in the United States where she accidentally became an outlawed alien (also known, especially in immigration circles, as an 'illegal immigrant.' We prefer the term 'outlawed alien' ourselves). During her reversed exile from her homeland, she kept herself occupied by winning this website (but only after shamelessly bribing the judges) and thus being unleashed on the web where she slowly, leisurely became the World's Laziest Blogger; by being a nanny and by attending sci-fi conventions in search of other aliens. In the US, she also made her sailing debut, her international acting debut, tried and failed to learn the piano, and never learned to cook. She is hopelessly addicted to coffee, dogs (especially Labrador Retrievers), how-to books (with a particular fondness for her copy of the Time/Life A - Z Medical Encyclopedia), and she tends to grossly overuse parentheses (we're not kidding) during her attempts at writing, which you may - if you really have masochistic tendencies - subject yourself to by reading the words to the right of this column. If you REALLY and truly STILL want to know more, you can read her C.V. here.
Or you can stalk her send her some love via e-mail at: redsaid[AT]gmail[DOT]com

The Wish List (Because yes, she really does need more how-to books. Honestly!)


  • Redsaid Author Profile Page: Terra: YES! Wait... you didn't think that I would be this possessed to post for NO REASON, did ya???... [go]
  • Terra.Shield : OH! ... [go]
  • Marco Author Profile Page: Be a bit like serving drinks at AA?... [go]
  • Marco Author Profile Page: I personally think it is a mindset that has been cultivated over the years, and one, if not stemmed,... [go]
  • Redsaid Author Profile Page: Ms. Crazy Cat Lady Pants!!! Squeeeee! Sooo good to see you! (I thought NO ONE was bothering to read ... [go]
  • Ms. Pants : Kitties don't get enough credit sometimes. (All times, if you ask me, but I'm a Crazy Cat Lady.)... [go]
  • Redsaid Author Profile Page: Hey Tamara! I know, right?? That is a tough act to follow indeed. I adored that dentist. He used to ... [go]
  • Tamara Tipton : Well, I am not sure how any dentist could live up to that standard! LOL! I hope your appointment was... [go]
  • Redsaid Author Profile Page: I'm really really glad that I'm not the only one, Po! Sometimes I drive myself mad with all the what... [go]
  • Po : Those questions run through my heads for various times in my life too, that is for sure!... [go]
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