You have a brain tumor. Though there is no discomfort at the moment, this tumor would unquestionably kill you in six months. However, your life can (and will) be saved by an operation; the only downside is that there will be a brutal incision to your frontal lobe. After the surgery, you will be significantly less intelligent. You will still be a fully functioning adult, but you will be less logical, you will have a terrible memory, and you will have little ability to understand complex concepts or difficult ideas. The surgery is in two weeks. How do you spend the next fourteen days?
Trying to decide whether or not to have the surgery in the first place. Losing much of what makes me who I am is not something I take lightly. My gut response is that I’d rather live six months as best as I can rather than lose my ability to argue complex ideas, appreciate cleverness, write, follow and memorize patterns, design things in my head and create them, and puzzle the nature of life, spirituality, and the universe. While a “full” life might be possible, knowing I was previously capable of so much more would be devastatingly sad to me. In essence Steve would also lose so much of what he loves about me, namely my passion for creation, my (relatively) quick mind, and my joy in discovery. I do not put value in life at any cost. Steve knows, if I’m in a car accident and I’m permanently brain dead, don’t keep me alive on machines… just let me go.
Every person you have ever slept with is invited to a banquet where you are the guest of honor. No one will be in attendance except you, the collection of your former lovers, and the catering service. After the meal, you are asked to give a fifteen-minute speech to the assembly. What do you talk about?
I would thank them all for the things they taught me about myself, love, and relationships. For good and for bad, there was something meaningful in all of it.
You have won a prize. The prize has two options, and you can choose either (but not both). The first option is a year in Europe with a monthly stipend of $2,000. The second option is ten minutes on the moon. Which option do you select?
I would much rather live a year in Europe so I could enjoy the sights, tastes, people, and history of as many countries as I could. While spending ten minutes on the moon would be spectacular and amazing, it’s ten minutes on the moon and then it would be over. I’d be return to my life with this one shining moment of glory, and knowing me, I’d feel like it was over too soon, and somehow restless. I’d rather have a prolonged flesh and blood adventure with my fellow man here on earth. I want to get dirty, get lost, eat savory meals prepared by smiling people, dance, sing, and pet sheep all over the world. And I’d expect that stipend in whatever is the higher going currency at the time, thank you!
Besides, there’s nothing I want that I can’t find right here on earth.
