It’s
eleven o’clock on Sunday night. I know I should be placing my concentration on
writing my blog post, but the Oscars are distracting me.
While I do enjoy seeing the various awards, one sequence
has always intrigued me more than others. The overhead lights begin to dim as
an array of soft, golden sparkles blanket the stage. The somber, reflective music
is cued, and the words “In Memoriam” appear on screen. The “In Memoriam” montage is the only part of
the Oscars that I actually watch with my full attention. Please, do not think I
enjoy watching the obituary; I am merely fascinated by it. The entire careers
of actors, actresses, and other important figures are condensed to a few
seconds. It’s strange to think that the importance of your entire life is based
on your contribution to the world. In order to be remembered, you have to accomplish
something memorable.
A lot of my Sunday involved the dead, death, or the act
of dying. In Virginia Woolf’s “The Death of the Moth,” Woolf expresses how
death cannot be avoided. Although the moth embodies life itself, even he cannot
elude the arguably most important aspect of life. Death. Without an end to your
life, you wouldn’t cherish the time you have on this earth. Death is a deadline,
a confine, a boundary. It is the limitation of your existence and the
termination of your consciousness. I
often hear the phrase, “Live life to the fullest,” which is a present use for “Carpe
Diem.” You have the ability to do what you want with your life. In order to be
eternal, you must make the choice to be remembered. 