Fast and Furious. That sounds an awful lot like life. - @sassypiehole | You've been warned!

We go through life dodging obstacles and speeding past all the best turns. When is it time to slow down and start living?

When the news broke of Paul Walker's death, it was all still up in the air as to the legitimacy of it. Was it another twisted hoax or was that really him trapped in that fiery blaze? I waited, along with everyone else that day, hoping that it was just a horrible rumor that some sicko started on twitter–but it wasn't. It was all very real, and incredibly sad. I found myself glued to social media for the next 24 hours in an effort to make sense of it all. How can something like this happen to such a cool guy? And then my husband walked in the door and put the whole thing into a callous perspective for me, "Cool people die, too."

I knew that–he didn't have to tell me; but it was still hard to wrap my head around. Maybe it was because of the way that he died, and the irony of what he was really famous for? I wondered if he was smiling before it happened, like he always seemed to be, and I thought about what he would be doing right now had he decided to skip that last ride. Was it fate? Was it bound to happen eventually? No one knows.

I've lost a few friends over the years, most recently a local Atlanta chef that used to scare the shit out of me with her bear hugs in the wee hours of the night at Atkins Park. And even though I know she's up there, swapping stories with her old boss and one of their beloved patrons; I can't help but wonder if she was smiling when she left this world. I'd like to think that she was.

My mother doesn't like to talk about death. It freaks her out. She thinks that if you talk about it, you must be thinking about ending yours and she'll proceed to tell you of all the reasons why you shouldn't. The truth is, I don't really think too much about dying–it's going to happen eventually, there's simply no way around it; but I've always had a morbid curiosity about the day it happens. I guess that's what sets me apart from all the other misfits fascinated with the afterlife.

Sometimes I get tired of all the heaviness that weighs me down. I push it away because it makes life less fun to be around, and I keep on squeezing that fresh lemonade. You never know when your last day is going to be here, so why not make it a good one? Why walk around feeling angry or sad, when so much good is sitting right in front of you?

It's okay to talk about death; just as long as you realize that the only thing standing between you and really living are the signs along the way.

Slow down. Pay attention... You don't want to miss one!

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