I am sorry again for my MIA-ness. I have been in full fundraising mode for the last week. The event is coming together better than any of us ever dreamed.
The weekend went by slowly, but fast simultaneously. We went to the funeral on Friday and it was a beautiful tribute to JC’s life. Her family each wrote and read a letter to her and it was nice to hear about the JC her family knew and loved.
Saturday, I went to watch the Xavier vs. OSU game. What a damn good game!! Bummed about the outcome, but it was more than I could have hoped for in a game. On Saturday, I was 3 OTs away from greatness – I took Xavier, Vandy and VCU. Risky and it almost paid off. Regardless, I am still the highest I have ever placed in my brackets and I am pretty proud of that.
After the game, we went to Howl at the Moon to listen to some music and celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. I successfully avoided the green beer, but did drink something that had leprechaun in it. I met up with Nat and Mel at Cullen’s for the evening portion of the celebration. All day I was a bit miserable, having forgotten to take my allergy pill and it only got more fun as day turned into night. My voice was a thing of the past by about midnight. Still waiting for it to decide to return.
On a side note, 8 days after we have sprung forward and the CTA Station at Sheridan still is an hour behind. I wonder, given their proclivity for running late, if they don’t ever spring forward, technically, they are always on time.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Save the Date
We are planning a fundraiser for JC's son at Guthries.
March 26, 2007 from 7 PM - 11 PM
Details to follow, but please keep the date open.
March 26, 2007 from 7 PM - 11 PM
Details to follow, but please keep the date open.
Also, if you know anyone that can help with donations, advertising or manpower in general, please let me know.
A fund has been established in her son’s name:
A fund has been established in her son’s name:
Blake Carlson Fund
c/0 Belvidere Bank
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Thankful for another Manic Monday
I hadn't posted for a few days, because I didn't seem to have much to say. After this weekend, though, I am not even sure what to say. It is a funny thing, the weekend. Most of us in corporate America look forward to the weekend. By Wednesday, we are thinking ahead, wondering what fun the few days off have in store for us. By Friday, we are in our jeans and t's, thinking of happy hour, the movies, straightening our homes, seeing friends and family or looking forward to sleeping in and lazing around. This is how I was last week. Within an hour of being home though, it all changed.
After being on the L, that once again took forever to get me home, I changed clothes and walked to the bar where I work on Friday nights. Nat had been sick all week and I was looking forward to seeing her and all my neighborhood friends and embarking on a weekend of fun. When I got to work, I found out that 2 of my friends had been struck by a car crossing the street on their way to the bar. Police and an ambulance were still outside the bar and witnesses were recounting all that had happened. I was shocked by it all.
Thankfully, while one had an overnight stay to treat a concussion, both were okay, spared from the worst of it. As the night wore on, I worked. It was really all I could I do. The bar was slow and JC, the other waitress that night, and I uttered the words, "I'm so bored" throughout the evening. It was all so very normal.
At the end of the night, we sat and did our closing work. Cleaning tables. Counting money. Entering in the Log. Tipping out. All so very rote. JC and I chatted about the Southside parade, she had been gathering flair for the event all month. We speculated about the crazy drunk people that would be out on St. Patrick's Day next weekend. She was newer to the bar and was going to work her first St. Patrick's Day. I warned her about the chaos that would most definitely ensue.
A bit later, she talked to her friends, who had come to visit her this weekend and go with her to the Southside parade. She was bummed that they had gone out that night and were all tired. She got off the phone saying that they were a bit lame and she teasingly bemoaned the fact that she was going to head home, because they didn't want to go out anymore. I walked her to the door and watched her grab a cab. I thought it was pretty funny how she dashed to the cab - almost bouncing along the way. It brought a smile to my face. Again, it was all so rote and normal.
Saturday morning, I woke up to an update about my friends. I got ready to go wedding dress shopping with my sister, my mom and my aunt. I met Nat for coffee and a bagel and then went off to shop. We stopped for lunch and it was then that my phone began to ring. Not knowing the number, I let it go to voice mail, since we were in a restaurant. When the number called back again soon after, I thought it was weird and I got up to check the message. That is when the weekend turned again for the worse. It was JC's friend looking for her. I told him about the friends staying with her and how she had headed home soon after work. It was then that he told me about the fire in her building.
The next few hours passed with a myriad of wedding dresses, phone calls, messages, and updates. In the end, it was not good. It was not only her building, but her apartment. It was not only her, but her friends as well. It was not only a fire, but an arson. In the blink of an eye, they were all lost. All I could think was that I was sad for her young son. Sad for her family. Sad for her friends. I was mad at myself for getting cranky with her earlier in the evening. (Though grateful for her sweet heart and for the fact that the moment passed quickly and that the evening ended on a series of good notes). No matter how I looked at it, it just didn't seem fair at all.
We gathered last night at the bar. Not really knowing where else to go or what else to do. For awhile, we all sat, a bit stung by all that had happened. I kept thinking about her excitement about the parade. How close she was to finishing school. How she had a ridiculously, wonderfully positive spirit. We toasted her and took a moment to acknowledge how precious life can be. I had no idea on Friday that watching her get a cab would be the last time I saw her.
And at some point in the evening, we started to sing and dance. It seemed to have evolved organically. We sang ridiculously loud and danced horribly. And when Better Days played, we hoped that its message was true. And thought it may seem inappropriate to dance and sing on a day like that, I think that JC would have liked it. In the short time I knew and worked with her, it seems like she would've liked the impromptu celebration of her life.
This morning, a few of us gathered for church. To pray about all that had happened this weekend. To thank God that Friday's accident was not worse. To pray for JC's family and friends and her friends' families. To thank God for our own families and friends and for the life that we have been given.
If there is anything good to be found in this tragedy, it is the reminder that life is an unknown and that it can never be taken for granted. Each day that we are here is one to be lived to the fullest. The little things are just that, little. Nothing matters more than those you love. I am thankful for another day.
So as you go about your busy work week and begin to look forward to your next weekend, don't put anything off until tomorrow. Don't go to bed angry. Don't forget to say I love you. Don't let a day by without realizing how great a gift it truly is.
“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.”
After being on the L, that once again took forever to get me home, I changed clothes and walked to the bar where I work on Friday nights. Nat had been sick all week and I was looking forward to seeing her and all my neighborhood friends and embarking on a weekend of fun. When I got to work, I found out that 2 of my friends had been struck by a car crossing the street on their way to the bar. Police and an ambulance were still outside the bar and witnesses were recounting all that had happened. I was shocked by it all.
Thankfully, while one had an overnight stay to treat a concussion, both were okay, spared from the worst of it. As the night wore on, I worked. It was really all I could I do. The bar was slow and JC, the other waitress that night, and I uttered the words, "I'm so bored" throughout the evening. It was all so very normal.
At the end of the night, we sat and did our closing work. Cleaning tables. Counting money. Entering in the Log. Tipping out. All so very rote. JC and I chatted about the Southside parade, she had been gathering flair for the event all month. We speculated about the crazy drunk people that would be out on St. Patrick's Day next weekend. She was newer to the bar and was going to work her first St. Patrick's Day. I warned her about the chaos that would most definitely ensue.
A bit later, she talked to her friends, who had come to visit her this weekend and go with her to the Southside parade. She was bummed that they had gone out that night and were all tired. She got off the phone saying that they were a bit lame and she teasingly bemoaned the fact that she was going to head home, because they didn't want to go out anymore. I walked her to the door and watched her grab a cab. I thought it was pretty funny how she dashed to the cab - almost bouncing along the way. It brought a smile to my face. Again, it was all so rote and normal.
Saturday morning, I woke up to an update about my friends. I got ready to go wedding dress shopping with my sister, my mom and my aunt. I met Nat for coffee and a bagel and then went off to shop. We stopped for lunch and it was then that my phone began to ring. Not knowing the number, I let it go to voice mail, since we were in a restaurant. When the number called back again soon after, I thought it was weird and I got up to check the message. That is when the weekend turned again for the worse. It was JC's friend looking for her. I told him about the friends staying with her and how she had headed home soon after work. It was then that he told me about the fire in her building.
The next few hours passed with a myriad of wedding dresses, phone calls, messages, and updates. In the end, it was not good. It was not only her building, but her apartment. It was not only her, but her friends as well. It was not only a fire, but an arson. In the blink of an eye, they were all lost. All I could think was that I was sad for her young son. Sad for her family. Sad for her friends. I was mad at myself for getting cranky with her earlier in the evening. (Though grateful for her sweet heart and for the fact that the moment passed quickly and that the evening ended on a series of good notes). No matter how I looked at it, it just didn't seem fair at all.
We gathered last night at the bar. Not really knowing where else to go or what else to do. For awhile, we all sat, a bit stung by all that had happened. I kept thinking about her excitement about the parade. How close she was to finishing school. How she had a ridiculously, wonderfully positive spirit. We toasted her and took a moment to acknowledge how precious life can be. I had no idea on Friday that watching her get a cab would be the last time I saw her.
And at some point in the evening, we started to sing and dance. It seemed to have evolved organically. We sang ridiculously loud and danced horribly. And when Better Days played, we hoped that its message was true. And thought it may seem inappropriate to dance and sing on a day like that, I think that JC would have liked it. In the short time I knew and worked with her, it seems like she would've liked the impromptu celebration of her life.
This morning, a few of us gathered for church. To pray about all that had happened this weekend. To thank God that Friday's accident was not worse. To pray for JC's family and friends and her friends' families. To thank God for our own families and friends and for the life that we have been given.
If there is anything good to be found in this tragedy, it is the reminder that life is an unknown and that it can never be taken for granted. Each day that we are here is one to be lived to the fullest. The little things are just that, little. Nothing matters more than those you love. I am thankful for another day.
So as you go about your busy work week and begin to look forward to your next weekend, don't put anything off until tomorrow. Don't go to bed angry. Don't forget to say I love you. Don't let a day by without realizing how great a gift it truly is.
“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.”
Monday, March 05, 2007
To you I'm a toy
When I was in high school, I worked at an outdoor concert venue. Some days I would work the front gate passing out programs and garbage bags. I remember working one day at the gate and seeing this guy standing on the steps in front of the theatre that is by the main gate. He had a blanket, a bottle of wine and food for two. I remember sneaking glances at him – he was super-cute (to my hormonal, teenage, 16-year-old self) and he was just standing by himself staring into the crowd. It was a bit intriguing.
I am sure that he was searching for the person that he was supposed to meet. He stood there for hours – watching everyone that came in the gate. I felt bad for him as the time ticked by. And then it started to rain. (I couldn’t make this up if I tried.)
It rained steadily for a while and I watched this poor guy salvage his things and move under a semi-protective awning. And still he stood waiting.
I kept thinking about the person he was waiting for – Was she running late? Did he get his gates crossed? Did she stand him up? How did it come to be that he was standing there alone?
I stared at Mr. Cute boy and his soggy picnic and wondered who could do that to someone? Who could plan something with someone and then not show? Who bails with no explanation? I couldn’t imagine how someone finds himself in that kind of situation.
Until a few weeks ago, when I stood on the same precipice. I saw something seemingly good vanish into thin air. I can’t really pinpoint when it happened. Actually, that’s not really true. I am pretty perceptive when it comes to bad things happening in my life. I could feel the tides turning a bit, but couldn’t really figure out why and continued to hope that for once, I was wrong. Turns out, I wasn’t.
And here’s what frustrates me the most:
It was the unceremonious blow-off – there was no explanation. Not even an obnoxiously inappropriate, “it’s not you, it’s me” text message. Nothing. I got an article of clothing as collateral for the promise of a right and proper date. Of course, I never got the date and I am now stuck with article of clothing trying to figure out what the hell to do with it.
This person purported himself to be the honest kind. We had lengthy conversations of past interactions and relationships and hurts. We talked about the things that drove us crazy – people who cheat, people who are dishonest…. I mean it is all too cliché that he became the guy who vanished.
The worst is that he filled my head and heart with possibilities. He made me think that this was something meaningful and true. He made me believe that I was something he had been looking for. (God, in writing, it sounds like I am living my very own U2 soundtrack).
But now I sit here wondering silently to myself about the person who did this to me. Who bails with no explanation? Did I get my gates crossed? How did it come to be that I am standing here alone?
Author's Note: Just wanted to say that while this entry is dark, I am okay. Don't want any of my friends that read this to worry about me. As always, life moves forward and so do I.
I am sure that he was searching for the person that he was supposed to meet. He stood there for hours – watching everyone that came in the gate. I felt bad for him as the time ticked by. And then it started to rain. (I couldn’t make this up if I tried.)
It rained steadily for a while and I watched this poor guy salvage his things and move under a semi-protective awning. And still he stood waiting.
I kept thinking about the person he was waiting for – Was she running late? Did he get his gates crossed? Did she stand him up? How did it come to be that he was standing there alone?
I stared at Mr. Cute boy and his soggy picnic and wondered who could do that to someone? Who could plan something with someone and then not show? Who bails with no explanation? I couldn’t imagine how someone finds himself in that kind of situation.
Until a few weeks ago, when I stood on the same precipice. I saw something seemingly good vanish into thin air. I can’t really pinpoint when it happened. Actually, that’s not really true. I am pretty perceptive when it comes to bad things happening in my life. I could feel the tides turning a bit, but couldn’t really figure out why and continued to hope that for once, I was wrong. Turns out, I wasn’t.
And here’s what frustrates me the most:
It was the unceremonious blow-off – there was no explanation. Not even an obnoxiously inappropriate, “it’s not you, it’s me” text message. Nothing. I got an article of clothing as collateral for the promise of a right and proper date. Of course, I never got the date and I am now stuck with article of clothing trying to figure out what the hell to do with it.
This person purported himself to be the honest kind. We had lengthy conversations of past interactions and relationships and hurts. We talked about the things that drove us crazy – people who cheat, people who are dishonest…. I mean it is all too cliché that he became the guy who vanished.
The worst is that he filled my head and heart with possibilities. He made me think that this was something meaningful and true. He made me believe that I was something he had been looking for. (God, in writing, it sounds like I am living my very own U2 soundtrack).
But now I sit here wondering silently to myself about the person who did this to me. Who bails with no explanation? Did I get my gates crossed? How did it come to be that I am standing here alone?
Author's Note: Just wanted to say that while this entry is dark, I am okay. Don't want any of my friends that read this to worry about me. As always, life moves forward and so do I.
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