Friday, May 16, 2014

It Doesn't Have to Be Las Vegas

This time last year, I was in Las Vegas. If Bloggers in Sin City had carried on another year, I would be in Vegas right now. It's Friday, which means it would have been Pool Day. I finally overcame my fear of Pool Day last year, although you wouldn't know that because I kind of abandoned my Vegas recap posts about halfway through. This might be a good time to finish them, yes?

Anyway, last night at a time somewhere between 2 and 3 am (probably closer to 3), as I was thinking about it, this little song popped into my head and naturally I thought it was brilliant and I've already wasted too much time not sharing it with you, so... behold.


Do you want to go to Vegas?
Come on, let's go and play

I never see you anymore
Come out the door
You live so far away
We used to have a conference
And now we don't
I think I am gonna cry
Do you want to go to Vegas?
It doesn't have to be Las Vegas


(Go away, Kelly)

Okay, bye...

Do you want to go to Vegas?
And wear sequins down the strip
I think a getaway is overdue
I'm tired of talking to
People not from the Internet
It gets a little lonely
All this cold and rain
Just watching my newsfeed scroll by...
(Click, Click, Click, Click)

Do you want to go to Vegas?




Humor aside, I do really wish I was in Vegas right now. I miss how time would just seem to stop for a weekend while we had adventures in the desert, all the sparkle and sequins and lights, all the food and the cool night air and the laughing and the bonding and the general escapism of it all. I miss the people, I miss having an annual trip to look forward to. Despite the emotional rollercoaster that always accompanied the return, I never realized how much of a break that it provided for my own sanity. The last couple weeks have been pretty rough on me and I've been fighting with everything I have to not just stay in a crumpled heap every day. (Although, maybe all I need is just one good Crumpled Heap Day and then I'll be fine again. Kind of like a battery recharge, something, I don't know.)

Love and 8-second hugs to all my BiSCuits, wherever you may be this weekend.

Monday, May 5, 2014

Just For a Moment

I've been putting this off all day, hoping that at some point, the words would come to me and I could say something worth saying, something meaningful, something... just something, I guess. I'm waiting for the year when May rolls around and I don't feel that sinking feeling in my stomach, but I sort of think that that might never happen. It's permanently entwined with this time of year. It has gotten easier, if such things can get easier. There's still a hole, but it's starting to scar over. I'm not sure I even do have much left to say, anymore. All these years, I've been pouring my heart out, hoping to dull the edges of the fragments that were left behind, but they're still sharp, even when sanded down. It's like when you've cried so much you don't have tears left, just that ache, that lump in your throat. Where it might feel good to cry, but at the same time, what good would crying do? It doesn't change a thing. Not a damn thing.

So here I am, faithfully at my keyboard on May 5. So many things have been left unsaid since last year; big changes, small changes, milestones, this that and the other, all things that I've been meaning to write down, meaning to commit to history. My nephew turned one last month. The flame of a relationship flickered and burnt out. My childhood home is being dismantled box by box. These are things, important things, that I've wanted - no, needed - to talk about, but I just... haven't. But here I am, now. An electronic vigil, every year, without fail. Even if there are no new words, it's still important that I'm here, that I'm remembering out loud, remembering so other people can hear and so that in some way, her memory is still alive, safe with strangers, safe in this digital archive. It's the very least of things that can be done, and it's insignificant. But it's a tiny candle in the dark, it's my own tribute, the best I know how. Even the littlest of words. Even if just for a minute. Remembering. Like always. Because I won't forget. No matter where I end up, there's always a tiny little piece of my heart reserved for one of the most amazing friends I've ever had. Those years can never be taken away, even if future years were. And I would have rather had just those years than none at all.

Not the best photo any of us have ever taken, but it was the first one we took together.
Move out day, spring 2004. Sadler House, Helser Hall, Iowa State University. Best year ever.