P.S.

By the way...does anyone have any advanced CSS or HTML skills who wants to help me redesign this page? Or does anyone have dreamweaver or dreammaker or whatever dream software can make my blog dreams come true?

Silent Blogging

So, I blog in my head constantly. I think of funny little anecdotes from the day to share and ponder questions about life that I'm often curious to share with the world. But for some reason, when I get home, I can't bring myself to type. I have no idea why. It's probably related to the same reasons I can't pick up the phone and connect with friends who I miss dearly. And though I feel like I've posted this exact same post previously (like a broken record of a frustrated blogger), the only difference is that this time, I've been visiting my own blog frequently and just sitting. Then I start to visit other blogs and think of how I want to change the format and layout. But in order to do that, I need to have CSS and HTML programming skills that I just don't have. And no amount of googling for help seems to do the trick. So at the end of each visit, I just sit. Unblogged. Unchanged. Just silent.

A Decade of Life Lessons

For months now, this date has been looming in my mind. And each time I thought about today, I knew that it would be important for me to try to find the words about what this day means and why it stands out from all other days. So, I've pictured myself typing all of my thoughts and feelings over and over again, sometimes even thinking about the words I would use, but now as I sit here, I feel a little bit numb. Maybe even a little bit overwhelmed. How do you make sense of something that after ten years, still makes no sense.

Everything about that day is so clear in my mind and so blurry, all at the same time. I was six days away from leaving for graduate school. I was down in Maryland, visiting my friends from college before making the move to Ohio. At the time, Ohio was the equivalent to middle earth to me. I was a Jersey girl whose reality consisted of all things south of New York, north of DC and east of Philly. So, moving to the midwest was a big step, but one I was excited about, nonetheless. I woke up that morning at my friend Yonot's house. When I woke up, the first thing I thought of was my high school friends. I couldn't wait to jump into my car, head up 95 and get ready for a fun night with my oldest and dearest friends. This would be our last night together for a while since we were all heading off for the next chapter in life, so I was definitely excited. I assumed this was why they were on my mind when I awoke. Later, I would believe differently.

Before trekking to Jersey, I stopped in Baltimore to have lunch with Jess and Ben. It was a good and leisurely lunch, and I was happy to have some time with them. When I climbed into the Jetta, still so new to my life, I began heading north. The ride was so familiar to me. I had driven it so many times during my four years at Maryland, not to mention the years of my childhood when Philip and I would wait for our mom to point out our favorite landmarks along the way. Along Route 40, we would seek out the large rocking chair in front of the furniture store, the giant cowboy and bull in front of the rodeo yards and the large cow that sat on top of the diner. These were such silly things, but brought such joy to our boring trip through the farmlands of Jersey. I took in these sights as I had so many times before. I didn't know then that I would never look at them the same again.

When I pulled up in front of my house, I parked on the street facing in the wrong direction, as is so common along the roads of Zion Park. As I turned off the ignition, I looked up to see my dad walking toward me to greet me. He gave me a big hug and grabbed my suitcase. It only occurred to me for a second that this was strange because he had never done this before, but I shrugged it off to a mere coincidence. It's funny now thinking back on all of these little things that were off about my day that had no meaning to me until after the fact. But then, I just happily walked up the front steps and into the front door of my childhood home. There stood my mom waiting for me with open arms.

I immediately starting chattering about needing to get showered and get ready for the night's events. I even tried to walk past my mom into the kitchen to grab something to drink, but she pulled me into another hug. When I pulled away, I looked up at her eyes and saw the tears already forming. Before I could even comprehend why they were there, she muttered the brief sentence that would change my world:

"Honey, John Elliott was killed in a car accident last night."

Though it took only a few seconds for the words to fall from her lips, it seemed like minutes went by in my head. Things went silent. It almost seemed like the world went dark. All I said was, "no." I looked again in her eyes and realized in a heart beat that this was real. I have no idea what happened in the next few minutes. I remember suddenly being seated in the recliner crying and screaming in a way that I can no longer feel, but only see as if watching the situation as an observer. I remember looking up from that recliner and my dad kneeling in front of me holding my knee. He had tears streaming down his face. It was only the third time I had ever seen him cry. Once when his father died. Once when my mother's father died. And now. Now. What was happening now?

Without knowing how much time passed, I remember Shannon all of a sudden being there. Out of nowhere, she appeared. She had had hours to process this nightmare, but for me, it was just beginning. I remember looking at her trying to be so strong for me. But I had no strength left. In order to get a moment of peace, even though I was the one creating all of the chaos, I excused myself to take a shower. In the shower, I let the hot water burn my skin just to feel something other than reality. But as the drops washed over me, I began to drown in memories.

I thought of the boy who went to Space Camp in fifth grade and came back with a video to share with the entire class. I thought of the boy who asked me to dance at a sixth grade dance, and then didn't look me in the eyes for weeks. I thought of the seventh grade dance when that same boy asked me to dance again, and before we knew it, our peers had pushed us in the center of a circle, and we were dancing to "Going to the Chapel." Because we were both mortified, neither of us looked each other in the eyes again for weeks. Not until the day I dropped my books in the hallway at school, and when I bent down to pick them up, there he was by my side, helping me recollect my things. I thought of boy who sang "Baby Got Back" in front of everyone at Abbie's 8th grade graduation party, who later danced up the aisles of high school Spanish class to the theme of "I Dream of Jeanie."

I thought of the guy who held my hand in the back of Steve Malia's mom's mini van on the way home from some party, who was also the same guy who was the first to ever tell me my hair smelled good. I thought of the guy who had perfected playing "Parappa the Rapper" before anyone else and was the first to show me how to download a sound clip from the internet. I thought of the guy who threw up on my shoes in Evan's front yard before riding the "Moped to the 90's." I thought of the guy who rented a cane for the prom. And a guy who ran around the middle of the Somers Point circle with me, Phil and Rosanna after some school event to stay warm because it was such a cold winter. I thought of the guy who took me to see "Heat" after driving around listening to music in Longport so we wouldn't have to go ice skating with our friends. I thought of the guy who sat on the front porch with me on that hot summer night when for some reason I was afraid to grow old. He hugged me as I cried and reminded me of how great getting older would be. This is the same guy who hugged me the day before we graduated from high school because I was all choked up during speech practice at the idea of our days in EHT coming to an end.

I thought of the young man who we rushed home to see after the Stone Temple Pilots concert the night before Thanksgiving because we hadn't seen him since he left for the Academy. The same man who showed up at the Thanksgiving Day football game the next day in his Navy dress uniform looking more handsome than ever. The same man who would send me emails at college and instruct me to watch an episode of "The Simpsons" when I was having a bad day. The same man who was waiting for me just beyond the marine at Gate 8 when I came to pick him up for his first free weekend away from the Academy. The man that laughed at me and Rosanna the entire way back to my campus for thinking the marine at Gate 8 was so cute. The man who let me lean against him as we sat on the beach watching a meteor shower with our friends. The same man who I would drive to Annapolis to see, even when he dragged me to see "The Matrix" and buy Hawaiian shirts at the Gap. The same man who would call me during our senior year to make sure his little sister was doing well at Maryland. The same man who promised me on that terrible night in April, when our siblings had just lost one of their friends to a drunken driver, that I shouldn't worry about what it would be like if we ever lost one of our circle of friends because he wasn't going anywhere. The same man who one week earlier, promised to make me a mixed CD to keep me company on my trek to Ohio.

I stood there in the shower, and I played back more than a decade of memories, love, laughter, friendship and tears. He was one of my best friends, and by far my best guy friend. He held my heart. There was no way any of this could be real.

I quickly realized that I needed to be by Jenny's side. It was the only thought that got me out of the shower and dressed. I had no desire to ever be behind the wheel of a car again, but my mom knew that without me saying a word. As we pulled up in front of the Elliott home, there were cars everywhere. I saw Mikey, Evan, Phil, Erica. I know there were more faces, but they were the only ones I was looking for. With Shannon by my side, we climbed the driveway. Within seconds, Jenny appeared and threw herself in my arms. In tears, she said, "Nanas...I don't know how to be a little sister without my big brother." With that, I never wanted to let go.

I walked into their house and couldn't even focus on all of the people. I was so afraid to see Mr. and Mrs. Elliott because I knew the pain in their eyes would finalize what I was refusing to believe. But there it was. The looks on their faces that to this day, I can't find words to describe. Again, my world went dark.

The next few days are a blur. I remember sleeping in the leather chair in the Elliott's living room that night surrounded by my oldest friends. My brother was asleep on the floor next to me, but he never let go of my hand. I sat in that chair, unable to sleep, looking at the faces and bodies of the people who knew me best, and I tried to make sense of our reality. But sense never came. And after a week of collage-making, viewings, a funeral and a hospital visit, I woke up on Friday morning realizing that I was supposed to leave for graduate school on that day, and I had done nothing to prepare. After a lot of tears and more support from my parents than I can describe, I somehow eventually (days later) found myself in Ohio burying myself in Harry Potter books to avoid my mind from wandering.

That was the hell that began exactly ten years ago today.

This story is so personal to me. So many personal details and memories that I have rarely shared with people before. Therefore, I asked myself, why write this all out? Why share such a personal account of such a sad day? Well, I don't have a perfect answer, but what I do know is that sharing can help in many ways.

The first lesson I learned after John's death was that it was not healthy to keep everything inside. I spent my entire life, until this point, carrying around emotions and thoughts that I never felt allowed to share. I carried them with me, twirling with the thoughts until I made myself spin. When I arrived in Ohio, I didn't know a soul. But for weeks, every person with whom I came into contact heard a detailed account of John's story. His life. His death. His legacy. They knew the about the drunk driver who hit him and his friend who gave him the keys before it happened. They knew he was on his way home to celebrate his mother's birthday with his family and friends. They knew about the Hero Campaign and its grassroots efforts. Sometimes I would go back to my apartment and wonder why I had just shared so much with strangers, and the thing I finally realized was that I was not physically able to keep this story inside of me. The pain was like poison eating at my heart, and the only way to release it was to share, talk, cry. So I share, talk, cry now (and have been for ten years) as a way to help others know that it's okay. That you don't have to sit in pain alone.

The second lesson I learned was to never take any moment for granted. This is a lesson we hear about all of the time, but I didn't fully learn it until that day. I pictured John's laugh....the way his shoulders shook with his whole body. I pictured his smile and how it could heal all things. These are memories, brief moments in time, that I cherish. I wish I could conjure up hundreds more of these moments, but I am eternally grateful to hold on to the pieces of the past that I have. These are visions that come to me when I sleep or when I daydream. They are the same memories that I see when I turn a corner in EHT and bump into a spot where we once hung out. They are the memories that I cling to when I pull up in front of 37 Evergreen Ave., and I have to fight the vision of pulling up that day and walking in to the hardest piece of news my parents have ever had to share with me.

Now, I try to take in all moments like the treasures of time that they are. It explains so much of who I am and how I function. I know there are times that others might look at me like I'm crazy. When I tell a friend that I love them or drop them an email to say I'm thinking of them. When I push my friends, staff and students to not wait until tomorrow to do something they can do today. To strive to be the best versions of themselves. This is because I know regret is useless and that time is precious. And I desperately would love to save all of them from the pain that comes from learning this too late.

And while I could probably go on about additional lessons I've taken from this tragedy, the biggest is I've learned to love better...deeper. I love with my whole heart, and even when it's difficult, I try to never be afraid to be honest about my love. I know I am more than fortunate to have in my life my family and friends, and to be open with them about my care for them is the least I can do in return for such blessings.

In ten years, I am a very different person. And I'm not just changed in the ways that people typically develop in a decade; I'm changed because my heart has learned a hard lesson. And I share this personal story, these private memories, because I think it's important for me to share these lessons. Ten years ago, I was 22. Still a chid, in many ways. Now, I'm 32, but John is still frozen in time. I'm experiencing the growing older that he was so excited for, and it is because of his enthusiasm for life that I pass along his legacy.

So, when I tell you I love you, I mean it. And when I give you a hug, it's for real. And if I send you an email out of nowhere, it's because I genuinely care. And if I ask you if you've had too much to drink, it's because I won't tolerate you on the road. All of these make me vulnerable at times, but I'm willing to take that risk because that's how much it means to me. That's how much John means to me. That's what I believe John's life is worth.

And to those of you-my dearest, oldest friends-who I don't get to see as frequently as I would like, please know, there is never a day when you are not in my thoughts and in my heart. I carry you with me in everything I do. Not being with you today is possibly the most difficult thing I've done in ten years. There is truly no where else I would rather be right now.

And to John, who visits me every time I look at a clock and it reads 11:17 or see a yellow butterfly flutter by or catch an episode of "The Simpsons" or look in your nieces eyes, you are with me always.

A Blog about a Blog

So, tomorrow begins one of my favorite weeks of the year...The week when my mom and niece come to visit. This is such a great tradition for us because it gives us uninterrupted quality time together. We don't get this time when I visit Jersey because there is always so much else going on. But here, in California, it's just us. And it's amazing!

This year, Kayla was allowed to bring a friend and asked Katie to come along. They are both so excited! Kayla to show off one of her favorite vacation spots, and Katie to get to visit the Golden State for the first time! It's definitely going to be tons of fun. So, in honor of their visit and in a way to capture all of our good times, I created a blog for them to keep while they are here. This way their friends and families back home can keep track of them, and so that they will have the memories forever. Mom and I will also get to contribute to the fun, and of course, as the creator, I've already started it. So, for the next week, I will be blogging at another site, but all should come visit and see what we're up to. Me, my mom and two young teenagers?! It should be an interesting time!

Sunday Silence

After a long hiatus from blogging, I sit here in front of the screen and think about all of the thoughts going through my head that I'd like to pontificate about. And, like most times when my mind is moving faster than the world around me, I feel a little overwhelmed about where to begin. So why not begin right here? In this moment.

This feeling of so much to say, so little time is a big part of what has kept me away from the blog recently. The more days that past without doing a little writing, the more I had to say. And the more I had to say, the more time I knew it would take me to say it. And the more time I needed, the less time I felt like I had. So, this endless circle spiraled me into an imaginary wall that blocked my path to written reflection. And now, as I try to break down that wall, I'm trying to remind myself that sometimes you don't need to "go big or go home." Sometimes, you just need to go.

So here I am. Going. And it has been a busy few weeks...almost two months now. At work, I sometimes feel almost robotic. I have an endless to do list, which doesn't really overwhelm me, but I do feel like I have just enough time to get things done, but not as much time to give anything extra. This has been a theme for me over the last year and a half. In the beginning, I spent a lot of time feeling guilty for what I wasn't doing, rather than considering what I was doing. I have now tried shifting my perspective. And this has been fairly successful. I think I have grown to understand how my role has changed, which helps me understand why I have less time for some things and need to make more time for others.

The more difficult part of this has been trying to help my staff understand this shift without them feeling like I care any less about them. This is the hard part, and the part that most frequently leaves me pondering how I am letting them down. I've had great supervisors, and I've had bleh supervisors. The great ones are the ones who have supported me when I most needed it, challenged me when I needed a swift kick in the butt and cared about me the same throughout it all. They are the ones who helped me determine what I wanted to be like as a supervisor. Recently, I spend a lot of time worrying about how I'm not living up to my own standard.

But the bigger standard that I have trouble meeting is the one that I have set for myself personally. This is a journey that I know will be a lifetime battle for myself. And probably using the word battle isn't entirely fair to process. I believe in life as a journey, continuously exploring the world around you and your role in it. And sometimes that journey isn't about dueling it out (with yourself or others)...sometimes it's just a leisurely stroll. But either way, it is a journey, and one that I am actively pursuing.

These past few months have offered up a timeless tradition in my life: Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. While this is typically only applied to weddings, I think it is also a good fit for many of the things I've been focused on recently.

Something Old: What can I say? I'm like a broken record when it comes to relationships with friends. Sometimes I wonder if I cherish my friendships too much? Hold them to too high of a standard? Because so many times do I find myself feeling hurt or isolated from people I love. To me, relationships seem like a no-brainer. You care about someone? Then call them. Spend time together. Laugh. Talk. Share what's happening in your life. Listen to what's happening in theirs. Fight. Work it out. I realize that not everyone deals with people in the same manner, but I am still shocked when I find myself in a situation where someone I care about seems so distant, and I have no idea how that happened. Once upon a time, I would've fought to close the gap. Call. Write. Name what I'm feeling and perceiving so that we can put it all behind us. The problem is I have been burned too many times by people not willing to reach back. So I've become jaded. Tired. I feel like I shouldn't always have to be the bigger person. I was having part of this conversation with a friend yesterday, and he said, "Extend an olive branch." And my knee-jerk reaction was, "Why am I always the one extending especially when I'm not the one who put up the wall?" The logical side of me knows that is a silly counter argument since I believe in communication and friendship, so maybe that's why I need to be the extender. But the emotional side of me is tired. And maybe a little confused about who is worth fighting for.

Something New: While health has always been a concern in my life, 2010 has brought this to a new level. I have been exploring my own health in new ways for months and months now. I am in and out of doctors appointments, and trying to get myself in a place that will help me live a different kind of life. More energy. Less aches. This has been such a roller coaster of emotion...scary decisions, honest truths, relearning habits. And even as I type this, the unknown of it all seems terrifying. The other new part to this is my own ability to break down my walls and let others in to my fear. Somewhere along the line, I learned to never show others what I'm feeling in fear that I would push them away with my imperfections. Or that they wouldn't care, and then I'd feel more hurt. But I feel tremendously grateful for the few people who I have been able to truly and openly talk to about this whole process, and who have really been there for me in return. It's helped me learn a lot about the level to which others care about me.

Something Borrowed: I've had many a therapist tell me that I can't take on the world's problems, and while I have made major progress (*salutes* Major Progress!) in this arena, I don't think I will ever be able to feel nothing about what my loved ones are experiencing. And truthfully, I wouldn't want to. That is such a huge part of who I am and how I define my life. I care about others, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for the people I love. And truthfully, I don't see this as a bad thing. So, when my mom is feeling sick from the chemo or my dad is feeling left out of family news or Kayla is having problems with friends at school or AJ is worried about what's next or Elyse is freaking out about the quals or Yas is feeling overwhelmed with empathy...well, let's just say it's hard for me to not feel what they're feeling. And I mean truly feel that emotion. Fortunately, I've learned that I don't need to solve these problems because sometimes it's enough to just recognize what they're feeling and be there to listen when they need it. But these are still the borrowed journeys that I am privileged enough to walk.

Something Blue: My judicial assistant at UMass used to leave me notes above my monitor that said, "Beat the funk!" This always made me smile and helped when I was having those days or weeks when I just couldn't shake the blues...or the funk. The last week has been one of those weeks for me. And the majority of the time, I haven't been able to pinpoint the source of this "ugh," but last night, I do think I had a mini-epiphany that gave me some insight into the feeling. Regardless, I still have these periods when that negative feeling just crawls into the pit of my stomach and takes up residency until I can figure out a way to evict it. And feeling this way makes it so much easier for me to hide from the world.

So this sums up where my mind has been the past few weeks, and what has been building up to stand between me and the blog. Maybe now that I've finally broken through and done some typing, it'll be easier for me to remember that I don't need an "all or nothing" entry. Even just a random thought by Briana is good enough. Because if nothing else, sharing a few of the thoughts in my head really helps me enjoy the silence of an early Sunday morning more when there is less noise in my head.

Inner Peace

One of the things that I frequently strive for is that feeling of inner peace. For me, this is about feeling calm and comfortable in the moment. There are so many times when I find myself feeling sad, anxious, guilty, behind or any other emotion that somehow puts me off kilter, and it is easy for me to get caught up in these emotions. This weekend, I had a number of moments when I felt at ease, even when there were things that could have set me off.

Last night, I went to the Hotel Cafe to see an LMU student perform. I love the Hotel Cafe. It is one of my favorite venues in Los Angeles. There's nothing like getting there early enough to grab a table, and then hanging out listening to the live music and enjoying the fantastic ambiance. Last night, I looked around the table, and realized some of my favorite people were by my side, and in a moment of clarity, I realized that I have made a great life for myself in LA. I have some great friends who make me smile and love me for who I am. I have a good job with people that I like. And I'm actively working to making progress on the things in my life that I'd like to see changed. There's not much more you can ask for.

Today, I had some more clarity as I listened to what I really wanted out of my day, and didn't worry about what anyone else wanted. I was invited to go to Disney, which is typically a no-brainer for me. But today, when asked, I almost felt obliged to go. Going to Disney? Yes! Done and done. But all of a sudden, I was really aware of the feeling inside of me telling me not to go...telling me to stay home with myself and just have some me time. So, despite feeling a little sad to be missing out, I kindly declined the offer and settled in for some time alone. And this was exactly what I needed. Now, as I'm tucked into bed and looking ahead to tomorrow, I feel very content with my day and more ready to take one another.

And isn't that something?

Random Road Trip

As most of you know, I am far from spontaneous. I am a planner. One time, in grad school, Kevin, Liz, Jen and I went on a road trip, and the four of us even planned our spontaneity. That's very us, and very me.

So, when faced with time off and countless attempts to find an affordable vacation with no success, it was looking like I was going to spend my days off during spring break no further away than Manhattan Beach.

Now, let me be clear. I love Manhattan Beach, and I am always in awe of myself that I get to roll out of bed and over to the beach whenever I want. So, I have no problems with this existence. However, there were a few variables that were making this scenario less than favorable this week:

-ONE- I had gotten approval to have this time away. For some people, this sounds like a simple task, but in the world of Residence Life at LMU, you need to actually be granted permission to go away for the weekend. It is one the few aspects of my job that I truly don't like (and it makes it even harder because I don't agree with the logic behind it), and probably the thing that will eventually cause me to look for another job that promotes a better life balance. Anyway....I digress... So, I actually had the time away, and since this is not always the easiest thing to accomplish, I did not want to lost out on the opportunity.

-TWO- The weather wasn't supposed to be great in LA. Shocking, I know, but let me clarify. Not great weather in LA means cloudy and 60 degrees. I know this is far from terrible in the grand scheme of things, but in my life, this means no beach weather. Boo for the pale kid.

-THREE- No responsibilities and no sun can only lead to one thing. Nothing holding me accountable to getting out of bed. This is what would likely happen..I would wake up naturally around 7:30am. Refusing to get out of bed this early, I would turn the tv on and pray for a Law & Order marathon. After a while, I would likely fall back asleep, and stay in a half awake/half asleep state until I feel so pathetic and lazy that I drag myself to the couch, where at least I can say that I got out of bed.

So, all of these factors were making the idea of staying in LA not so favorable. I mean, even AJ was out of town on an AB trip, so there would be no person calling me for brunch in the morning. As I was lamenting about this one day, my friend Scott and I started exchanging FB chats, and before I knew it, he was persuading me to get off my arse and visit him in Phoenix. This seemed like a simple plan. Pack a bag, grab my Chevron gift card I won at the blood drive, charge the iPod and six hours later...voila! Phoenix. But immediately, I began to doubt the idea. I hadn't really thought this through or planned for it. Could I really just jump in Miss Henrietta and head east? And really, I clearly had the ability to do so, so it wasn't a question so much of could I as it was would I? Even on Tuesday night after telling Scott I was going to make the journey, I wasn't so sure it would happen.

But alas, I surprised even myself. And on Wednesday, as I threw my stuff in the car and put her in drive, I set my sights on Phoenix, and never looked back. One stop, six hours and endless tunes later, I pulled up on Alamo Street to find Scott sitting outside with a beer in hand. And after a tour of his new house, we were off to dinner at the Cornish Pasty Co. What is that, you might ask? Well, I'm still not entirely sure. But what I do know is that it was very English, very Scott and very enjoyable.

Now, as I sit by his pool and listen to the songbird chirp, a new twist to the random road trip unfolds. Kelly and her husband are on their way to Phoenix as I type to visit her parents. So, it looks like I might get two Buckeyes for the price of one this weekend. This goes to show me...sometimes spontaneity pays off!

Goals

So, my goal for 2010 was to blog at least 10 times a month. Clearly, I did not accomplish this in March...at least not on this blog. Since I am also trying to keep up with this photo a day blog (http://photographicstate2010.blogspot.com and http://agirlandherpointofview.blogspot.com), I guess I technically did blog, just not in the written format. Either way, something that I've definitely learned, and often remind myself, is to let myself off of the hook when I don't do something "perfectly." So, I think five times is pretty good, and today is a new month (literally), so it's time to start again.

And in fairness, I am working toward helping others enter the world of blogging. Today, I've encouraged my dear friend Dung to start his own blog, commenting on all of the interesting news articles he always posts on Facebook. And I have a blog idea in mind for my niece's summer vacation this year. So, clearly I've done my part for the blogosphere.