The computer messed up towards the end of my last post, hence the drop-off mid-thought. I'm thinking about other things, now, so maybe I'll go back to the interesting boy in the library later.

A combination of events have occured since I've been home to force me to think, over and over, about death (aaa- not my own!) and the fine, fine line between life and death. (Also the fine, fine line between sanity and insanity, but that's for later) Sure, scientifically it's a pretty simple definition (or is it - how do breathing apparatus and such fit in? but I'm not thinking of medical side of this question, more the philosophical and day-to-day effects of life on others), but beyond breathing versus not, what is it to truly live?

I feel frustrated, almost angry, at my parents for their aches and pains, their excuses and not-so-silent, oh-woe-is-me, this-isn't-really-audible sighs. They're not that old, and lots of times it seems like they use their hurts just as an excuse not to do things, to be lazy, to put blame on one another for not doing the things they don't want to do...aaaa. It drives me crazy and has made this trip home mostly stressful and angst-filled. Feeling this way towards my parents makes me feel guilty, though, that I could be so un-compassionate (and reminds me of a particular car ride with my mom while my dad was away when she bawled and told me that she must have raised me wrong because I was so unfeeling and had such a cold heart) towards the people I love the most in the world. I guess it normally doesn't matter as much on shorter trips home because then we don't have the same time together, the sort of time that calls for making plans together to do all the sorts of family-ish things we've "always talked about doing." Like camping in the Everglades. Or using the canoe (this is an entirely different issue I have with my parents: their ability to spend money on things like a canoe and bikes, things they NEVER use yet claim to when I call them out on it, things that make for good outdoorsy active family fun, things that we never make use of because they're in pain. Their backs hurt. Their feet hurt. SELL THE STUPID CANOE!! STOP BUYING ACCESSORIES FOR IT. YOU DON'T USE IT. Actually, don't sell it. I'll use it when I move to LA.) I get sad because they get me all excited about doing stuff together, and I hold out on making plans with my friends (though there's a whole other issue, my inability to effectively communicate with people I care about through long distances) because WUHOO we're going to do something fun as a family and I want to take as much advantage of being able to spend time with my family as I can. And then. We don't. Do anything.

Aaaaaa!

So it comes down to it, where's the line? Where do I give up on pushing my two entirely unhealthy and in-need-of-activity parents to do fun things that have good health side effects, and just agree to sit in front of the TV all day? Besides just spending time together, and all the frustrations I have with that, I also try to encourage them to move around, but that idea faces the same uphill battle. I don't want to just give up and say, well, you're dying anyway who cares? because they're my parents! I want to make the most of the time we have together (hopefully another 40 years) but at the same time I know that that time won't be as long as if we did certain things now. How do I manage to enjoy whatever it is we do now, without getting caught up in anger, to prevent getting even more frustrated that I didn't enjoy the time we did spend?