I'm Alive...

...and well. In fact, I'm very well. I know it's been quiet on here. I've been reminded many times by my dear readers and friends. It'll pick back up soon...very soon. Thanks to those who inquired about the lull. It means a lot to know that people actually read this thing. When I write next I'll be 26 years-old! I thought I'd be bummed about officially being in my late 20s, but honestly, I am pretty anxious. I've heard good things about 26. Not only that but I am quite curious to see what 2007 will throw my way. 2006 was full of adventure, discovery, new faces and just plain fun. I anticipate the following year to only continue in the same direction.

I am out of New York for the moment, at home in the good ol' suburbs of Maryland, making my rounds with all of my loved ones. I sit here in my Auchtung Baby t-shirt, at the computer in the house I've lived in since I was born. My parents asleep upstairs. My adolescent bedroom, with the same Bob Marley poster I've had up for 10 years, awaits my sleepy head.

Enough of my late night rant -- Be safe and have a Happy New Year. May you not stand in any long lines and overpay for an open bar. May the night keep you close to those you care for, but if you are far away I hope it is only in body and not in heart.

We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.

~Edith Lovejoy Pierce

Existential Eulogy

Yesterday, something was lost. A young man’s life. At 26 years-old, he was studying to be a surgeon at Duke University’s medical school. He was handsome. A wide, white smile that struck me the first time I saw it. He was happy. So much so that even after my sullen retorts during one of his coaxed debates he always persisted, happily and unoffended. He was a regular reader of my blog and often asked me to “write more! I love reading your stuff.” And though I failed to reciprocate, he never ceased to encourage me. I realized too late how uncommon it is to meet people like him these days. He was kind and joyful and respectful and unafraid to say exactly what was on his mind. He had no qualms with telling me I intrigued him in one sentence and then calling me a hypocrite in the next.

All the traits I complain I don’t find in people anymore, especially in this city, he possessed. And the funny thing is, I barely knew him. It would be strange to even call him a friend in fact. What we had was a beginning, a dialogue. I lazily let that fade out as I often do these days. I don’t maintain new relationships/friendships because I am skeptical. But he openly vowed to prove me wrong. He could’ve been a great friend and I truly regret not letting it unfold.

The details of his death are uncertain and I have no interest in posting them here. I feel for his family, who he expressed on many occasions, he was very close with. The elder of two siblings, he spoke of them like prizes, which he treasured and protected. His parents, God bless them during this time. I cannot imagine losing a son, especially one with so much heart and potential.

I am presently a walking cliché. At a period in my life where I have already taken a step back to make reassessments, this event has gently intensified the process. So, while I am willing to be trite let me remind you of the obvious bc we too often disregard it: Life is too goddamn short to waste on deceit, selfishness and all of the other things that make the world ugly. There is abounding beauty to be uncovered, if only we allow ourselves to see it. Please, be kind, be true, and tell whomever you need to tell, tell them now and tell them exactly why you love them.

Love,

Rakhee