Troublesome

I had dinner with an old friend of mine last night.

He is seriously one of my favorite people—has been since high school. But I’m worried about him. He had something really tragic happen only a few months ago involving his significant other and I really don’t want to get into specifics. But the end result was his boyfriend committing suicide in their home.

My friend (we’ll call him Joe) is in the middle of beginning a new career in a division of law enforcement. At the time of the incident with his boyfriend, he was in the middle of basic training and getting placed and starting his new career, and it sounds weird to say it, but the suicide was horrible timing. He hasn’t had time to really accept what happened.

As a result, I don’t think Joe has really had a chance to grieve or to talk to anyone about what happened. I asked him if he’s gone to counseling or anything, and he’s gone a couple of times, but the counselors were too busy wanting to talk about when he “came out” than to talk about the problem at hand. My friend came out in high school (which had its own horror stories), but that’s part of his resolved past. What he needs now is to talk to someone about the suicide.

He hasn’t gone in the room where it happened since. Until a couple of nights ago, he couldn’t sleep in their bedroom—he slept on the couch in the living room for months.

He’s excelling in his career, but when I talk to him, I can tell he’s not the same. He seems hollow and unhappy. And no, I don’t think he should have gotten “over it” by now. Not at all. I don’t think that’s the kind of thing you can really ever get over. But he seems like he’s in denial and in depression. And I’m worried that it’s going to get the better of him and he’s going to succumb to it and perhaps never be the same.

I’m not really looking for any kind of response from my dear readers…it was just something I need to get off my chest. Maybe writing it down will help me see the situation more clearly so I can help him in any way I can. But for now I guess my only option is to be there… and to listen when he’s ready to talk.

Yikes.

This kind of thing just makes me sick inside.

The worst part is that we'll probably never know why.

Kim Family Auction

I think most of the nation was riveted by the Kim family's ordeal this winter.

We were all disappointed and moved to hear that James Kim died while trying to save his family, never knowing that his wife and children were saved.



An auction is being held through January 7th on EBay for the Kim family. You can see the auction's items as well as links to Ebay at the following website:

Kim Family Auction

They are mostly arts and crafts made by artists nation-wide (many of them from the Pacific Northwest). Some of the items are pretty spendy, but I thought I'd pass it along in case you or someone you know would like to bid.

Pass it on!

Well, shoot.

I knew it was unlikely, but I was still hoping for the best.

Mother Nature may seem ruthless, but she doesn't know you're there.

Five years later

I was a sophomore in college. I had an early class, so I was the first one up that morning. Yawning my way to the girls’ bathroom, everything was silent—most people were still sleeping. As a traipsed along in my bathrobe with my shower stuff, one dorm’s door was open. Two guys were inside huddled around a radio—I couldn’t make out a word of what they were listening to, so I thought nothing of it.

As I stood in the bathroom brushing my teeth, a weird feeling came over me. I skipped the shower and headed back to my room. (I know that sounds kind of dramatic, but it’s true). I turned on the TV to the shocking scene of the towers on fire. After watching for a few minutes, I thought it would be best to wake up my roommates. One of them was too lazy to get up and see what was going on (this is the same roommate who, five months later, would say “the Pentagon was hit too?”). The other two joined me in our living room as we watched the devastation unfold.

A few minutes later I said, “I’m honestly surprised they’re still standing.” Not 10 minutes later the first tower fell.

Then I had class. I couldn’t skip because I had a test. So I threw my hair in a ponytail and rushed to class, only to see that half were missing. My professor kept us there for only 10 minutes to discuss what was happening and then told us to find someone with a TV so we could know what was going on.

Not long after, the university declared all classes canceled for the day. I sat in front of my TV for the rest of the day, watching as the Pentagon was hit, seeing footage of people jumping out of the towers to a death that was less horrifying. I remember when the plane crashed in Pennsylvania—they weren’t sure if it was shot down or if it was an accident. All airline flights were canceled.

My mom called to beg me not to go into Portland (my school was about 30 miles west). It hadn’t really occurred to me not go, but I told her I wouldn’t. As I was on the phone with her, I could hear my little brother (who was six at the time) yelling for my mom. She went over to him and he asked, “Is the Statue of Liberty OK?”

A few days later we had a candlelit vigil for those who lost their lives. As we stood outside in total silence, one of the first airplanes allowed back in the sky flew over our heads. It was a very eerie feeling.

Over the next several days, weeks, years, we’ve been told more about the attacks. Somehow, I almost feel like we know even less. Did our administration ignore warnings? Did we deserve the attack? Will we ever know?

One thing is for sure—our culture of fear has only increased. People turning in their own neighbor for looking suspicious. An Hispanic man kicked off a flight because they thought he was Arab. Terrorism, wars, death.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to say anything about this fifth anniversary coming up on Monday, but I was thinking about it today, and that’s what blogs are for, right?

I make it no secret that I don’t like our president. I don’t like his policies. I don’t like his administration. I can’t believe we still don’t have Bin Laden. I worry that things are just going to get worse. I don’t believe we were attacked because the “terrorists hate that we love freedom.” It’s not as simple as that. It’s years of manipulation and war torn lives and bad foreign policy and religious differences and oil prices and cowboy tactics.

But one thing’s for damn sure. Maybe we provoked them, maybe we ignored warnings, maybe we’ll never know---but those 3000+ people did not deserve to die.

I only hope that someday, years from now, I can adequately explain at least a little of what happened and why to my future children.

That’s the burden of our generation---teach the next, so this will never happen again.

Crikey Again!

(My favorite)

Crikey!

I am so sad that the Steve Irwin, the crazy Crocodile Hunter, was killed yesterday, leaving behind his wife and two young children. I really liked that crazy guy—but I have to admit it was like his last joke. I mean, who else would get pierced in the heart by a sting ray? Only the Crocodile Hunter. If he’s going to go, he’s going to do it in style.

But I’m still very sad. :(


On a happier note, my bronchitis is clearing up already after being on antibiotics for only a few days. I think this is because the antibiotic they have me on is ridiculous. It’s so strong that it was actually making me feel sick to my stomach. So I went and bought some acidophilus (a pro-biotic) which is helping immensely. So now I can kill that bad bacteria and put good bacteria back in. It is a little weird to think that I’m eating one billion live cells when I take it, though. It reminds me of the time I had to take the Typhoid vaccine—it was also alive and had to be refrigerated. *shudder*


In other news, go see Little Miss Sunshine. It is a fantastic movie. Best I’ve seen in a very long time. I would even consider going to the theater to see it again (which I almost never do). Go see it. Skip, run, and sashay on down to the theater.



I finished The Bronte Project, which I did enjoy but I must admit it’s not my favorite read. Cristina read it, and because she and I share the same love of the Bronte literature, I knew I had to read it. :) I actually found it a little abrupt—and I found the end to be found wanting. But overall I was entertained—and it made me want to go get a book of the Bronte letters. In searching for a picture of the book cover, I also discovered that someone has purchased the rights to make it into a film.



I’m also quite excited because the season premiere of House is on tonight. It’s probably the only show on Fox that I really enjoy (other than Will & Grace reruns). And I think Hugh Laurie is pretty damn sexy.



T-Minus 20 days and counting until I start grad school. Yikes!

I'm trippin'

So bored at work this morning I was reading up on the JonBenet Ramsey murder history on crimelibrary.com. In the story it talks about how back in 1998 a psychic came up with this drawing of what she thought the killer looked like:



Here's a pic of the recent suspect, John Mark Karr:



I hate to be one of those weirdos who gets sucked into crazy sensationalist media stories, but I must admit that that drawing does look an awful lot like him.

OK, I'm done now.

*I must not get sucked into sensationalist media*I must not get sucked into sensationalist media*I must not get sucked into sensationalist media*I must not get sucked into sensationalist media*I must not get sucked into sensationalist media*I must not get sucked into sensationalist media*

Pay no attention the man behind the curtain!

First, I must start by saying this is totally crazy. I am shocked that this case might be solved. I mean ten years. I was 14. Just wild.

And I must say, holy Creepy Creeperton:




And, it looks like one of my favorite little villages in Ecuador is covered in ash. I visited Banos twice while I was there, and just loved that little town. We even rode horses up to the volcano (which in retrospect was not the best idea). Although the article doesn’t specifically mention Banos (other than the picture) I’m still worried because Banos is literally at the base of the mountain. I have a picture of me somewhere standing on the side of the volcano with the city down below me. That makes me sad.



On a lighter note, I’m taking a vacation day tomorrow! Yay! My friends and I are headed for a girls weekend at the beach where we will drink cocktails and check out cute boys playing volleyball. Well, that’s the plan anyway. I’m ready to escape work for a bit, even if it’s only for a few days.

And A/B, I'm sorry I don't have juicier gossip for you about my friend, but I really don't. We never went that route--he had a girlfriend when we met. Not to mention he lives on the other side of the country. AND I haven't seen him in three years. But if any of that changes, you'll be the first to know. ;)

In other news, a professor stopped by the library today to return a piece of work she borrowed from the library about six years ago. This library for the most part has really crappy art. And I guess six years ago they knew it was crappy because they were all in a closet somewhere. So this professor rescued it from the closet and put it up in her office.

Anyway, she returned it today, and I looked at it…did a double-take. It is an original Salvador Dali! It’s a lithograph of some kind because it’s numbered, and it’s even SIGNED. SIGNED, people. I started freaking out immediately, which in turn freaked out my coworkers because they didn’t understand why I think this is so freaking cool. [They must not have noticed the two Dali posters I have up in my office].

The professor thought I was funny and said, “you know, I think there’s two more floating around the library somewhere.”

WHAT!?!

So she and I went on a little hunt and sho nough there are TWO MORE signed lithographs by Salvador-freakin-Dali. And they’re seriously in some back random ass corner where no one ever goes! I was like, “Dudes, I think these would look better in my office…” But I got denied.

But there are three Dalis where I work.

I think that makes me special.