Auntie SparkNotes: I’m Interested in Dead Things

Auntie SparkNotes:

I live in a rural part of the Golden State, engulfed by what could be described as a modern-day view of The Grapes of Wrath‘s setting (Auntie Steinbeck would be pleased), blended with the conservative views you’d see in a typical gospel-type story. This religious mindset seems to rub off from parent to child, with heavily black-and-white viewpoints. In our high school this is especially the case. There are a few religious dissidents here and there; I suppose I could be called one of them.

Mainly because I have stuffed a freshly road-killed coyote in my car for the glory of taxidermy. In front of Lord-Almighty-Knows how many people.

I am aware people in my school may view me as “fake” or deliberately insane, but I find a still-life beauty in the lack thereof of life. I have a growing hoard of remnants of creatures past; one of which is Turing. Turing is the stuffed albino mouse who has made me an iconic psychopath in the eyes of my peers; a reptilian-hearted girl who will never enter God’s light (this doesn’t irk me, as I don’t need or desire a religious affiliation). My parents are moderately disturbed; they believe my interest in the dead contributes to my history of depression and short but deadly mood swings (if you’d like to know, my temper may have led me to hold my sister at knifepoint—and attempt to bite an ex-friend’s throat out bare-toothed. Thankfully I wasn’t suspended or expelled for either scenario, despite extreme neck injury).

How can I portray my interest in the deceased without adhering to my inner sadist’s wishes?

Er… well, off the top of my head, darling, it would definitely help if you avoided doing anything sadistic. Can we just agree on that? Right here, right now? Some ground rules, if you will: No biting, for starters. And also no stabbing, and no violence or threats thereof in general, no matter how angry you are.

Also, no spitting. Just for good measure.

And on that note, let’s just get this out of the way: It’s pretty clear from your letter that you enjoy shocking people—which is fine, by the way, and totally not unusual for someone your age. But while Auntie SparkNotes would never call you fake, I do want to separate your genuine interest in death and/or dead bodies from your performative desire to freak out your peers, and here’s why: The latter, you’re probably (hopefully) gonna grow out of. But the former? If you’re really serious about it, taxidermy is a legitimate personal and/or professional occupation, as is forensic pathology or mortuary science or funeral directing or any number of other lines of work, if you’ve got the temperament for them. And not only is there’s nothing sadistic about any of it, but the world is always in need of interested, respectful, non-squeamish people to do these jobs.

So when you ask how to channel your interest in the deceased, the answer is that you’ve got quite a number of legitimate options, especially if your fascination is the kind that sticks with you into adulthood. (If it doesn’t, then hey, whatever; lots of people go through a phase where they’re a bit obsessed with death.) And since it’s not like we get to choose what we find rewarding—i.e., you can’t just decide to be passionate about bowling and Bible study any more than your classmates could force themselves to be fascinated by the preservation of a road-killed coyote—it’s always worth it to investigate the stuff that piques your interest.

And if the people around you don’t get that, or think it’s somehow uncouth and crazy to think that corpses are interesting instead of just gross, then you can always politely point out that you’re only as crazy as, oh, every person who’s ever visited a natural history museum in their lives. (Those stuffed animal specimens aren’t made out of googly eyes and felt, despite what some of your classmates might prefer to believe.)

But you can also remind yourself as necessary that you don’t need to waste your time explaining yourself to people who are determined to misunderstand you; you only need to get along with them at the bare minimum level of civility (read: no biting, stabbing, or spitting) until it’s time to make your own life. And that’s not so hard, especially when you’re spending the rest of your time doing whatever keeps you going and makes you happy, even if the “whatever” is a little bit peculiar.

Got something to say? Tell us in the comments! And to get advice from Auntie, email her at advice@sparknotes.com.
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