- you know what? what the hell is wrong being emo? I don't know anyone who ISN'T *some*times. sheesh. get over yourself, people. #
- if I quit Twitter or Facebook or Formspring, I have to make a conscious decision to do it. #
- I've been using (some of) my friends as an excuse to fail. http://bit.ly/bNgl6X #
- which might not have been… diplomatic. But she's not a diplomat, she's a *writer*, which might be the exact opposite. http://bit.ly/bD245t #
- @estherium http://twitpic.com/1eh1el – wow, that's really cute! #
- I hope #Diplocon is going well. check it out today if you haven't already! http://edisk.fandm.edu/Diplocon/ #
- I'm also missing #WGI finals! love winterguard. (see @WGItweets for more info.) #
- @mkelleyy yeah, I miss colorguard/winterguard somethin' fierce. been trying to figure out how to get back into it even tho I'm too old, too. in reply to mkelleyy #
- @mkelleyy haha no problem. in reply to mkelleyy #
- @mkelleyy I marched in high school in Southern California. I would've in college, too, but my college didn't have a guard. *sadface* in reply to mkelleyy #
- Endeavor to cherish each other unequivocally. http://bit.ly/bJ2lwc #
Today is Angie‘s death day, one year later. I don’t know what time it was or, really, even what happened except that she was hit by a car while trying to cross the street somewhere in Las Vegas and the driver left her there to die. To my knowledge, the culprit was never found.
I have some clippings from various internet news sites published shortly after the fact, ranging from the next day to the next week. They say things like, “A woman was killed when she was struck by a pickup truck late Saturday night as she tried to cross six lanes of traffic…” and “The woman died at the scene…” and “The truck could not [as opposed to did not?] stop and fled the scene after hitting the woman.” (Email me or leave a message below if you want sources.)
Yesterday, I visited her grave for the first time since she died. I’ll probably go back, but not any time soon. I might take one of her/my other friends if I’m asked, but otherwise, probably not for a while. It just hurt too much. I put it out of my mind for almost a year (I found out in late April last year), but visiting the grave site told me just how much I’d just blocked it out instead of sitting down and dealing with it.
I’m not Angie’s mother. I’m not her stepfather. I’m not her son. They have the greatest monopoly on grief over Angie’s death. And one year isn’t enough time to get over a loss like that. I’ve been told such pain doesn’t really go away; it just becomes an ache. But, I am her friend. Probably not a very good friend, at least not by the end, but most people have to take what they can get.
By the time she died, Angie and I weren’t speaking. We weren’t on bad terms or anything, but we had lost touch and only kept up through mutual friends. I’d heard she’d had a son and was living in Las Vegas. I don’t know if she ever asked about me or not. When I found out from Sara B. that she’d been killed by a hit-and-run driver, I was stunned. I wanted it to be a lie. I might not have called her and told her, but I did care.
Since she was also a friend of Angie’s and I thought she deserved to know, I girded my loins and called Alison’s house number. I left a rambling message, asking her to call me back if she wanted details about Angie’s funeral ceremony. When she returned my call, I gave her the information and rambled some more before she said, “Well, thank you for letting me know, but I think I already have plans for this Saturday.” I was stunned again. I knew Alison and I weren’t really on speaking terms—and not in the “we just lost touch” kind of way, either—but her standards of importance were so far different from mine that I couldn’t breathe for a moment. We said our goodbyes and hung up. (That was the last time I spoke with Alison.)
I didn’t attend Angie’s funeral since I was living in New York at the time and couldn’t make it back on such short notice, but my parents and sister graciously went in my place. Bunny said that most of the people who recognized them at all thought that she was me, though she thinks she corrected them. Angie was cremated and laid to rest in a cemetery grave with her father, who died in January 1985, before Angie was born.
My mother drove me out to the cemetery yesterday, but she stayed in the car while I paid my respects. I think she knew I needed some time alone. I’d gone into the flower shop and asked for “Something like that, but without anything blue in it” since I didn’t want my bouquet to look like it was raring to go for the Fourth of July when it’s not even the right time of year for that. My budget was modest, but the florist did right by me, something for which I’m grateful.
I regret missing the funeral because it feels as though, all this time, I’ve just assumed she’s still in Las Vegas somewhere. Having her birthday (April 5) and death day (today) in the same week hits pretty hard. I still, after an entire year, want her to be lying to me.
On August 15th, 2008, my then-apartment mate, from whom I was renting a room, told me to find another place to live because he couldn’t handle my interacting with his son when he thought he should be having quality time with the kid. I still have the letter that was slipped under my door, poor grammar and spelling and all.
I moved in with a friend and strained her relationship to her boyfriend for an entire month before I found another apartment—this time on my own. In a lot of ways, I was lucky. I had a job that allowed me to afford the apartment I found and a friend who was willing to let me stay with her (actually, the house was her boyfriend’s parents’ place) while I was looking. And, I found a great place with a decent landlord. But it would’ve been nice to have a place to look for apartments ratings before I moved in. I paid a broker’s fee that was outrageous (but standard in the business) and moved into my new place in October.
ApartmentGrade is a relatively new site, and my cursory scan didn’t uncover much in the way of actual content, but I’m hopeful. Anyone conducting (serious) independent research that will make the hassle of apartment hunting easier on the hunter has two thumbs up in my book.