No more X’s on my hands. No more search parties for half-tapped keggers and stolen dixie cups. No more guilt for forcing a crowd of friends to go out to dinner, rather than to a hip new bar. No more frantic searches for tall Asian girls, in hopes of mugging them followed by stealing their wallets. This is the end of an old beginning.
My actual birthday was quite uneventful (minus Ramen with Jenny!). I spent the day at work, albeit 2 of my usual work hours were spent drunk in my bed at 6am with the spins and frequent trips to the bathroom/sink. 24 hours later and I am still feeling the residual effects of the blow job shot. Pieces of the night frequented my thoughts throughout the day at work, preventing me from properly responding to emails with my usual sense of urgency. The only productive thing I did today was pull forecasts from LYNX and compile them into a spreadsheet. Fun times.
Flashbacks of Pokemon sing-a-longs; half-drunken curdled Irish Car Bombs, Luke-Owen Wilson’s ugly brother handing me his “business” card, losing my beveraginity to Michael the bartender, over-sized banana peels, and the memorable sweetness of my first legal shot of So Co w/ Lime prevented me from functioning properly at work today. Thanks to my dear friends Rubio, NG, and Tommygun for celebrating my birth with me at the stroke of midnight.
I am glad to say that I am 3 flower pots richer, 10 million brain cells lighter, and 24 hours wiser than when I was a mere 20 year-old simpleton. Asian glow forever.
Her name was Rebecca Payne. Yesterday morning at 7 am she was found dead in her apartment on Mission Hill. The police are still investigating on whether the murder was intentional or not.
Here’s the article. RIP Rebecca Payne.
It’s so scary to hear about murders or accidental deaths so close to you. Last year, a transfer student that lived in my building (who was also from CA) had died from falling down the stairs at the local bar. Apparently he had been laying at the bottom of the stairs for a couple of hours before anyone found him. I was actually there that night and I remember they had kicked everyone out really early all of a sudden–I remember thinking it so strange and I didn’t find out why until a couple days later.
I think that same week, a student from MassArt got caught under the wheels of a big rig truck while he was riding his bicycle. Another girl from NU had died in a tubing accident on a student-organized trip. Later that month, the whole shooting incident at Virginia Tech occurred.
I think about these people and how we all shared the commonality of being students–all working towards similar goals in creating a better future. Like me, they all woke up every morning, to do those little or big things that needed to be done in order to fulfill their ambitions. It makes me sad that they weren’t able to. Their lives were taken so early.
The thought of death terrifies me. I’m not afraid of the act of dying–I am afraid of not living. The even more terrifying thing about death is that you never know when it’s going to happen. This is why I live my life the way I do–I live as freely and spontaneously as possible. I am impulsive. I selfishly want my life to be constantly filled with action, adventure and pleasant surprises. Because ultimately, I can’t leave this world behind knowing that I woke up that morning feeling unfulfilled.
We have to live as much life as we can, to commemorate those who weren’t able to. “we gotta steal the time of a life that’s passing by.”
