Life is Short

Many of you already know that Kelsi Cook was killed yesterday morning about 6:45am driving up to Crystal for her job as a Search and Rescue volunteer. There aren't a lot of details, just a few circulating again and again, so I'll spare you the unsignificant things.

It's odd what little things you remember about someone, regardless of if they've died or not. Here are things I remember about Kelsi.

Kelsi and I were on the same soccer team in first grade. I forget our team name, but our shirts were maroon. But I don't remember much about her just from that. Freshman year (I know it was freshman year because a bunch of us always ate lunch outside in this one spot) she was copying the odd answers out of the back of her math book and saying, "God, I love the back of the book." I remember wishing people wouldn't say God in that context. For the record, the first time I said God in that context was when I found out Steven Ackley died. But I really didn't see Kelsi a whole lot, until these past Fall and Winter quarters at Green River. She was usually with Sheila, and we'd eat lunch together, sometimes with two of their guy friends, whose names I don't know. We talked about Norway (she went in high school, I'm going next month) and she taught me how to say, "Do you speak English" in Norwegian (I've worked on it, too; phonetically it's something like "Snakkers du Engilsk?"). We talked about Rick Steves, apparently a travel guy with a TV show, and our parents, and for some reason I remember her telling me her parents dated for something like four years before they married. I don't know why I remember that.

But mostly, I remember her voice. I remember how attentive her eyes were when you were talking. She genuinely listened and cared about the things you said. And though we didn't have a lot of memories together, I think that's a very good, decent thing to be remembered by.

While I'm sad we didn't see each other much, I'm really grateful that we talked those two or three times in the cafeteria at Green River, because those are where my most meaningful memories of her took place.

I still haven't cried yet, but I've come to learn tears don't necessarily equal grief. Everyone copes in their own ways. Last night, I sat down in the shower and tilted my head in just a way that both my ears were filled with water, and with my eyes closed, I felt like I defied existance. More importantly, I felt calm, and I felt the faint feeling of knowing that - somehow - things would be okay.

So here is the part where I preach what people always say about death: tell those you love that you love them; never take anything for granted; live today as if there were no tomorrow, because one day, there won't be. But you know what? Cliches wouldn't be popular unless they were true. And I think Kelsi's death has made this even truer. Because that could have easily been me, or my father, or my best friend. And once I started thinking about that, I began to think about things differently.

So here's to you, Kelsi. I'm sorry we didn't have more memories together, but I'm thankful I got to meet you.

Love,
Andrea

Why Monday Was Certifiably Insane

Monday, March 10th was one of the weirdest days of my life.

When I woke up, the inside of my mouth tasted kind of weird and dry and faintly pukey, but I didn't think much of it because I tend to sleep with my mouth open, so it's usually dry in the morning. I typically make some toast to eat on the drive into school, but my stomach felt a little odd, so I didn't. The whole ride to school, I was worried about running out of gas, because I never let the tank get as low as it was. So that was my main worry, until, shortly after executing (that's how they say turning in driver's ed language) the hairpin turn coming up the hill, I threw up! WHILE DRIVING! Who even does that? Sure, lots of people get carsick, but they're probably in the backseat. I bet less than two percent of the world's population has thrown up while driving. I should conduct a study.

Clearly, my day was not off to a good start. Thank God I didn't get into an accident, though. After parking, I cleaned myself up as well as I could with a towel I keep in the backseat as an instant window defogger but knew my jacket (my lovely, black dress jacket, on clearance from Over the Edge - the only thing I can afford from there) was a goner for the time being. I called Sheila to see if she had an extra sweatshirt, but alas, she gets to school right as I'm leaving. So I went to class in my dressy tanktop, jeans, and heels (all but the jeans I was planning on wearing to my choir concert that night).

I felt pretty crappy and cold, albeit functional, in math. Promptly afterwards, I went to the bathroom and puked three times. This was insane. I haven't thrown up since second grade, on Mrs. Craighead's desk and, a few minutes later, on Tori Overman. I've been told that if you throw up on someone and they're still friends with you, they are the truest kind of friend. So Tori and Joe (my car) are apparently my true blue friends.

Choir was difficult, seeing as how my throat stung, but I hadn't missed a day of class all quarter (so I wouldn't have to take my final) and I wasn't going to let this stop me. Before I could get home and crawl into bed, I had to get gas, of course. After waiting in line several minutes (which wasn't too bad, as I spent the time belting Chicago songs - the musical, not the band - with my iPod), I ended up paying $50.05. There went two days of my paycheck. At least it was symmetical. I have a thing for symmetry.

I got home, napped, watched Ellen, and gave my mom her birthday present. It was also Osama bin Laden's birthday, but I wasn't exactly about to bake a "Happy Birthday Osama" cake, if you catch my drift.

That night I had my concert, which went decently, considering the contents of my stomach stayed there. Rendezvous was great, as always, but I liked both choir's songs from last quarter better. For anyone reading this, next quarter's will be show tunes, which I have no doubt will blow your mind, meaning you should come.

So, yay, that was my day. Sorry if I grossed you out. I just found it funny.

Andrea