Tuesday, May 25, 2004

scripts: Tragedy

Tragedy is another driving factor in people’s lives. It's what keeps us interested and wanting more. Look at how we mourn those people who were incredibly talent, yet died young whether it be musicians, writers, actors, or artists. There's something compelling in their deaths. It becomes a myth. They have created a myth by dying so young or before their prime. "It's tragic," we always say. Tragedy. He or she was so young. He or she was so talented, even bordering on genius.

We like to mourn them like they were a part of us, a part of our extended family, a part of the culture that we lived in.

We like to imprint their deaths in our minds to serve as a marker for important events in our lives. "Oh, yeah, when Elvis died I was..."

Most importantly, their deaths allow us to eulogize them on a massive scale. We'll put them on the highest, most unreachable petal stool ever just because there was something about them that we wanted, admired, liked, or envied. They will never be forgotten because we won't let it happen. Nope. We always celebrate the lives of people who deserved to live, if only for just a little bit longer because their life served our purpose in some way. They provided a service for us, their life or death does. We want more of it. We don't want to let go of that service; we are selfish.

Death immortalizes youth. It makes legends out of ordinary people.

Look at the tragedies of yore: Greek and Elizabethan tragedies. Both are powerful and relevant and most importantly well loved and respected. Each, if not both, involve elements of love and tragedy at its simplest.

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