Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.

There's this episode from Sex and the City when Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker's character) meets her to-be-boyfriend-in-the-coming-episodes Jack Berger (played by the fabulous Ron Livingston). He collects found playing cards, noting that once you find one you can't help but notice the rest of them.

Simple idea-- having your awareness grow and then suddenly feeling like what you became aware of is just everywhere.


I was one of those people who hasn't had a lot of people pass away in his/her lifetime. The only person I was close to was my grandfather and he and I didn't really have much of a relationship. He passed away when I was seven years old and while I didn't quite understand what was happening, I knew that I was supposed to be upset and quiet. I have a vague memory of seeing my mom sobbing from behind the door, although I didn't understand why because as a father-in-law, he wasn't particularly welcoming to her.

But, between the ages of 7-22 death kept its distance from my life.

Now, in 2008, it's the only thing that I can notice.
A few days before my birthday I got a call early in the morning telling me a classmate of mine from college had died early in the morning. There were few details and no one really knew, so I was stuck with a piece of information that was unconfirmed and just... there.
Last week I called another friend to make plans for dinner only to find out that his grandmother had passed away the day before.
The last week of March marked the anniversary of the Iraq War, as well as the 4,000th American death of the war.
This week, East Los Angeles has been rocked by a series of homicides that appear unrelated and just utterly tragic.


And what I realize from all of this is that I haven't really been taught to deal with any of this. Mourning for people I barely know feels inappropriate. But, continuing without thinking about their life (whether I knew about it or not) also feels disrespectful. I couldn't help but feel like I was spitting on the face of the people who passed away, as I got up, got ready, and laughed my way through the day.

Where does the balance lie?


For the first time in a long time, I want to stop and just think. I want everything to wash over me and I want to deal with it. But, of course, this is also the time when I don't have the luxury of stopping. Coro will end in a month and a half and I will be set upon the city of Los Angeles to do what I will. And, as they say, life goes on and we need to go with it...

So, where does the balance lie?


These all feel like such elementary questions and thoughts, but I don't know of many people who have a solid response to any of it...