(no subject)

On Friday night, one of the girls down the hall died after being hit by a car while crossing the street. Most of the floor's in mourning. It's been a long awful week (fire alarms going off, a weapon threat, drug and alcohol issues), so the RA really looks like she's going to burst into tears from the stress of all of this. The girl's parents are coming to get her things on Monday.

I honestly don't know how I feel about this. It's so unreal. I barely knew her: I don't think I spoke to her more than a few times, and my only real memory of her is when I offered to loan her some clothes when she and a friend of hers were going to seek Rocky Horror (they didn't wind up going). I could tell you what she looked like, but I don't remember the sound of her voice. I don't really know much about her other than her name.

The floor's really subdued, of course. I think suddenly everyone's a lot more aware of how easily they could be here one day and gone the next. In a lot of ways, this is more painful for the people here than Virginia Tech; it was one girl, and a stupid accident, but it was someone you lived down the hall from, nodded to in the elevator, brushed your teeth next in the morning, rather than a group of people you don't know.

The thing that bothers me most is that this'll last maybe a few weeks and then most of the floor will just forget. Not about her, perhaps, but certainly they'll forget that feeling of knowing how short life really is. I've been aware of my mortality for a while, but medical conditions that could be life-threatening do that to a person. The floor will mourn for a while, and then they'll go back to living like they're immortal, drinking and being stupid and unsafe.

That being said, you can't live life in fear of dying. I'm not saying we should live in fear, but we should remember that life is something that can be taken away without any warning, and we shouldn't take it for granted.

I like to joke that I plan on living forever, and that I'm doing a good job so far, but there are times when it's just not funny. Why is it that we only think to tell people how much they mean to us when faced with someone else's tragedy, or when it's just too late? We take so much for granted: the air we breathe, the food we eat, the people who care about us, our health. It's only when we've lost something that we realise how much it means, and how hard it'll be to go on without.

(Now here I suppose I should include a request for people to tell the ones they care about how much they matter, but it's so hard to take this kind of thing seriously when you're not going through it.)

I'd really like to think that all of my friends know how much I care about them, how much they mean to me, but I know it's probably not true. There are so many of you who I've lost track of, who I've told myself "I'll call them/e-mail them/drop them a Facebook message tomorrow" and it never happens. Maybe what I'll be able to take away from this is that correspondent gene I've been looking for so long.

Reading back over this, I know it's just a splatter of thoughts on a screen, a free-flow of disjointed ideas and feelings. I hope can make more sense out of it that I did.

Life is short. All I wish is that everyone can make the best of it.

In Remembrance, anonymous
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glint on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle morning rain.
And when you wake in the morning's hush,
I am the sweet uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.

(no subject)

On Friday night, one of the girls down the hall died after being hit by a car while crossing the street. Most of the floor's in mourning. It's been a long awful week (fire alarms going off, a weapon threat, drug and alcohol issues), so the RA really looks like she's going to burst into tears from the stress of all of this. The girl's parents are coming to get her things on Monday.

I honestly don't know how I feel about this. It's so unreal. I barely knew her: I don't think I spoke to her more than a few times, and my only real memory of her is when I offered to loan her some clothes when she and a friend of hers were going to seek Rocky Horror (they didn't wind up going). I could tell you what she looked like, but I don't remember the sound of her voice. I don't really know much about her other than her name.

The floor's really subdued, of course. I think suddenly everyone's a lot more aware of how easily they could be here one day and gone the next. In a lot of ways, this is more painful for the people here than Virginia Tech; it was one girl, and a stupid accident, but it was someone you lived down the hall from, nodded to in the elevator, brushed your teeth next in the morning, rather than a group of people you don't know.

The thing that bothers me most is that this'll last maybe a few weeks and then most of the floor will just forget. Not about her, perhaps, but certainly they'll forget that feeling of knowing how short life really is. I've been aware of my mortality for a while, but medical conditions that could be life-threatening do that to a person. The floor will mourn for a while, and then they'll go back to living like they're immortal, drinking and being stupid and unsafe.

That being said, you can't live life in fear of dying. I'm not saying we should live in fear, but we should remember that life is something that can be taken away without any warning, and we shouldn't take it for granted.

I like to joke that I plan on living forever, and that I'm doing a good job so far, but there are times when it's just not funny. Why is it that we only think to tell people how much they mean to us when faced with someone else's tragedy, or when it's just too late? We take so much for granted: the air we breathe, the food we eat, the people who care about us, our health. It's only when we've lost something that we realise how much it means, and how hard it'll be to go on without.

(Now here I suppose I should include a request for people to tell the ones they care about how much they matter, but it's so hard to take this kind of thing seriously when you're not going through it.)

I'd really like to think that all of my friends know how much I care about them, how much they mean to me, but I know it's probably not true. There are so many of you who I've lost track of, who I've told myself "I'll call them/e-mail them/drop them a Facebook message tomorrow" and it never happens. Maybe what I'll be able to take away from this is that correspondent gene I've been looking for so long.

Reading back over this, I know it's just a splatter of thoughts on a screen, a free-flow of disjointed ideas and feelings. I hope can make more sense out of it that I did.

Life is short. All I wish is that everyone can make the best of it.

In Remembrance, anonymous
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glint on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle morning rain.
And when you wake in the morning's hush,
I am the sweet uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.