Death does not scare me. It is inevitable. No matter what path we are traveling, we will all end up passing through that gate. What happens beyond that, I am not sure. The timing of things fills me with sorrow and questions. Today I received news that a friend of mine from my YRUU days has passed. He wasn't older than 25. He has a child right around my daughters age. He was my waiter at Olive Garden what felt like two weeks ago. And now he is gone.
I hate the way the voice on the other end of the line sounds. The one, that when you pick it up and say hello, you can tell by the way they ask "How ya doin?" that they aren't really hearing the answer to the question they just asked because there is something terrible leaping up their throat and dying to get out.
I am filled with sorrow.
And maybe a little bit of guilt. That I never got back in touch. That I never reached out when I knew he probably needed someone.
"They won't know what caused it for a few weeks still but it looks accidental."
Intoxication loses it's fancy when that is possibly what helped kill a friend.
I want to hug him one last time. Thank him for his kind words that night and tell him how much the memory of them got me through. I want to whisper in his ear to hold on. I want to hold his child to comfort her, and I have never met her. I want to cry. I want to sit in that house with his parents, to bring some sort of solace, but I know I wouldn't be able to. What could bring comfort to a parent at a time like this?
Sunday, August 31, 2008
It's either really late, or really fucking early, depending on how you look at it. I have spent a lot of time the lasts few weeks contemplating my decision to not be a student anymore and work full time. I was so excited to go back to school, but as time wore on the excitement for academia could not overpower the extreme need to financially be a responsible person. (the background there is I spent a good few years before I learned my lesson being very irresponsible with my credit rating, which coincidentally is now shot to hell.)
But I had this whole "took me so long to get here gonna see it through till the end" mind frame to contend with. But because I was so ass poor, I HAD to be taking a full course load to get enough financial aid to pay for everything but some portion of my rent. (Thanks mom!) So, plugging right along, I took summer classes, and instantaneously regretted it. It was hot. It was sweaty. It was hours my time spent trying to understand the excitation-contraction process and all the little enzymes and what not that go into making me a human being capable of digestion. (By the way, I still see those pictures from the textbook every time I eat or pee, thank you very much.) I felt that by halfway through the term, I was doing that whole army crawl thing that kids learn to do before they really crawl. I was dragging myself toward the finish line. I had not had to motivate myself to even just get out of bed so severely since high school. It was depressing. And speaking of kids, I feel like I never got to relax and appreciate my time with mine because my inner dialogue was all about which muscles were there, insertion points, synergists and the like. By the second to last week of the term I felt literally ill every time I even thought of school. I changed my grade options in my other classes so I could skate by with the very minimum and I quit going to them. I quit reading my textbook for anatomy. (Boy that made the days preceding my final just AWESOME!)
Then Dave sent me that glorious text message that made me hear the heavenly choir itself singing me down some salvation. The job proposal went through and he had an offer for me. Dammit, that would come through the week after I had set my mind to forgetting about it and committing to stay in school.
When I was offered this job I didn't hesitate to accept. Wait-no, that's not true. Inside of me, I had already accepted it, I made myself wait to tell them that. I wanted to sit on it for a few days and at least be aware of the possibility that I wanted it just for the financial security and way out of school it would bring. But then as my first week approached I not only felt sad that I would not be coming back to school (this was a huge shock) but I began to feel the weight of my hefty job description and the fact that this ain't no entry level restaurant position began to weigh in on me. I sat through nine hours on my first day of taking notes as my new (and nerdy hip) boss talked and then set me loose. As I sat in what will be my office until I find a permanent one I became so bogged down with a list of stuff I HAD to get done that I was literally stuttering inside my mind about what to do first.
Well-my first week is over and I still think I made the right decision. So there. At least I still have confidence in myself, right?
And by the way, A in anatomy bitches...
But I had this whole "took me so long to get here gonna see it through till the end" mind frame to contend with. But because I was so ass poor, I HAD to be taking a full course load to get enough financial aid to pay for everything but some portion of my rent. (Thanks mom!) So, plugging right along, I took summer classes, and instantaneously regretted it. It was hot. It was sweaty. It was hours my time spent trying to understand the excitation-contraction process and all the little enzymes and what not that go into making me a human being capable of digestion. (By the way, I still see those pictures from the textbook every time I eat or pee, thank you very much.) I felt that by halfway through the term, I was doing that whole army crawl thing that kids learn to do before they really crawl. I was dragging myself toward the finish line. I had not had to motivate myself to even just get out of bed so severely since high school. It was depressing. And speaking of kids, I feel like I never got to relax and appreciate my time with mine because my inner dialogue was all about which muscles were there, insertion points, synergists and the like. By the second to last week of the term I felt literally ill every time I even thought of school. I changed my grade options in my other classes so I could skate by with the very minimum and I quit going to them. I quit reading my textbook for anatomy. (Boy that made the days preceding my final just AWESOME!)
Then Dave sent me that glorious text message that made me hear the heavenly choir itself singing me down some salvation. The job proposal went through and he had an offer for me. Dammit, that would come through the week after I had set my mind to forgetting about it and committing to stay in school.
When I was offered this job I didn't hesitate to accept. Wait-no, that's not true. Inside of me, I had already accepted it, I made myself wait to tell them that. I wanted to sit on it for a few days and at least be aware of the possibility that I wanted it just for the financial security and way out of school it would bring. But then as my first week approached I not only felt sad that I would not be coming back to school (this was a huge shock) but I began to feel the weight of my hefty job description and the fact that this ain't no entry level restaurant position began to weigh in on me. I sat through nine hours on my first day of taking notes as my new (and nerdy hip) boss talked and then set me loose. As I sat in what will be my office until I find a permanent one I became so bogged down with a list of stuff I HAD to get done that I was literally stuttering inside my mind about what to do first.
Well-my first week is over and I still think I made the right decision. So there. At least I still have confidence in myself, right?
And by the way, A in anatomy bitches...
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