I will be dead in 30 years. That’s it. Three decades and I’m dust. Fertilizer. Gone for good. According to a variety of odd-looking websites, including some from Jurassic HTML times, my clock is ticking faster than I desire. With just a little knowledge of me, these portals of morbid wisdom can estimate the approximate time of my departure. After averaging a bunch of them, the math is clear. At 74 years of age, I am saying goodbye.
—
Allegory of Life, Guido Cagnacci
My quest to become the cyclops of Krull starts with Death Clock. One of the oldest out there, it is not at all optimistic about my outcome, predicting my death in no more than 24 Springs.
If you think that is bad (I certainly do), MyDeadClock says “hold my beer” and shouts “12 years, you fool!” Yes, my fellow reader. A dozen birthday songs it’s all it gives me, foreseeing my checking out pathetically in 2032.
Confused.com is a life insurance company that illuminates the path to my grave a little. By asking some distinct questions, like “are you happy?”, or “have you had a traumatic life event?”, it projects my last goodbye for 31 years from today. Not great. Not terrible.
Death Date asks me for a life outcome perspective beforehand. I choose “neutral”, skipping “optimistic” (obviously a lie) and “pessimistic” (embarrassingly true). That leaves me with 29 years or, as the website kindly informs, “40% left” — like a dreadful “downloading death” progress bar.
With curious questions like “are you right-handed or left-handed?” and “how often do you ride a bicycle”, FatefulDay was the first to strike me as somehow scientific. Which, in my case, is not necessarily good news. Its prediction? 20 years.
Things only start to get better when I visit the Office for National Statistics, a UK government agency that knows a thing or two about data — although it didn’t seem to need much of it. By only asking for my age and gender, ONS was able to give me another 40 years on this planet. Not bad! I must admit that the test didn’t feel reliable at all, but at this point, I am not going to say no to four extra decades.
More good news came from another insurance company, Blueprint Income. The test, which they say was developed by professors of the University of Pennsylvania, give me 36 extra years with a couple of bonus options. I could gain another three if I start exercising, another seven if I just change the attitude towards my general health and, surprise, another 14 months if I get going on a couple of drinks a week. Sobriety not only makes me boring at parties (which I never attend anyway) but also kills me sooner.
Finally, the Canadian Project Big Life offers the best experience you can ask for when it comes to counting down your days. As you answer the questionnaire, you get a real-time estimation, with years going up or down depending on your choices. In the end, after giving me 35 years to live, PBL lays out my chances of beating the odds. They are 9% at beating my grandfather (who died at 93) and 1% at blowing those fancy 100 candles.
The bottom line is, I am dying. Quicker than expected. In 30 years. Maybe a few more. Maybe a lot less. And I am aware that, fate desiring, I might have no more than this very instant, barely with time to end this sentence.
But I am still here. And I need to do something about my life. Although it scares me that I don’t have the longest road ahead, it bothers me a lot more the fact that I am not enjoying the time that I have. The moment.
Something must be done. Not in the next 30 years. Now.
What’s the next step? To focus on my health? Relationships? Is it working more? Less? Better? Is it reading another book? The Love I lost? Or the one I don’t know exists? Is it the friends I didn’t keep? Perhaps the ones I can still make? Is it more of what I already have? Maybe a lot less of it?
I don’t know. And that, my friend, is the truly depressing part of this miserable letter. As the sand comes down inside the hourglass of my life, I have no idea on how to make the best of my present, nor where to set my foot on the next second. Time is short. And I am still lost.
But I will figure it out. Unless, of course, I die.
Be kind,
Rodrigo Bressane
Hertfordshire, UK
Before you go:
I made yet another video tutorial about my Capture One workflow. This time using the photo of a friend, photographer David Dubnitskiy. If you are into photography, you might like it.
If you don't follow me on Instagram yet, you're missing out. I am kidding. There's nothing new there this week. Super sad. Still, take a look if you haven't been there in a while (or ever).
I am still a complete rock star on Twitter. Last time I told you I had 73 followers. Well, my friend, make that 79! I can barely cope.
As I reply to you (wearing a grin) in the present I find I am unconcerned whether I have 12 or 200 years more.