Sometimes I wish I were a poet or liked poetry or wrote song lyrics because there are certain moments in life that I feel should be recorded not in prose but in swaying and sweeping phrases. Like it's a moment too beautiful to be over analyzed. Like you want to be able to go back and look at the sparse letters and words and remember with perfect clarity what happened even though there's little description. And have other people who weren't there be able to visualize it. So I'm going to use my nasty, teenager-y, valley girl prose to convey to you what I wish I could do through poetry.
The moment a light bulb dies.
There are some light bulbs that gradually dim and dim and dimanddimanddimanddim until you can't see them any more and the battery juice or the little metal filament just totally give out.
There are some light bulbs that decide not to turn on one day. They die in their sleep. No last words. No last wishes. Just graceful, eternal slumber.
And then there are the light bulbs that I like the best. The ones that go out with a flash and a bang.
I went to turn on the light that's in the lamp that's on top of my bookshelf tonight and it up and exploded on me and blinded me for a second and then disappeared completely.
It sort of reminded me of Tinker Bell from Peter Pan when she'd get all sparkly when she was happy but then also how when she supposedly dies her light goes out completely.
There was a little fairy inside my lamp and it performed its final spectacular show and passed on.
I think it was a happy death. I mean, how can it not be happy when it's all bright and shiny and awe-inspiring.
What better way to die?