A very good friend of mine is in a very bad situation and I do not know what to do. I can pray. I can keep my fingers crossed. I was just on the internet looking up a band I ran across called Local H, and phrases, lyrics, adds and titles kept jumping out and speaking to me. It was surreal, almost disturbing, like this giant network of data and dateables was peeking into my mind and poking at my thoughts. “Too young to die.” “And this girl could” “Everyone Alive.” “Hands on The Bible.” “The Brain That Wouldn’t Die.” I averted my eyes, embarrassed by the superstitious notions that these lines conjured in me. I pretended to ignore them, pretended they were not there. I fear to fornicate with such signs. I may set my alarm clock to random numbers, but that is tradition. This is different. This is a hopeful reinterpretation of reality.
I am sitting on the couch listening to music which is slightly too loud for 1:00 AM. This much I can do. I am writing. This too I can do. And I can recall. The weeks since spring break have been wrenched out of my grasp one by one, before I ever really got a chance to examine them. I have not yet had the time to simply sit and think about Brenna, or anything for that matter. Since that fateful motorcycle accident more than three weeks ago I have received only occasional snippets updating me on her condition. “Brenna was in an accident. She is in a coma.” “Her condition is unstable.” “She responded to foot stimulus.” “Her mom flew to Lebanon to be with her.” “They are planning to fly her back to the states, so she must have stabilized a bit… right?” “Yesterday… Brenna… was pronounced brain dead.” “Today she lies in a hospital in Reno, Nevada fighting for her life. Pray. Brenna is an amazing person. She deserves to live.” And each time I receive one of these long awaited snippets I struggle to assimilate it to a life that has not quite come to terms with the fact that Brenna is no longer across the Nile watching The Office and playing with her kitties. A life which unconsciously assumes that at any moment Brenna might sneak up behind me and cover my eyes with her hands, and when I wriggle out of her grip, she will laugh and ask me why she has not seen me in such a long time. A life glazed in the distractions of life. In the last three weeks I have attended lectures; I got addicted to “Heroes”; I spent a night singing karaoke with the Egyptology department; I participated in the excitement, chaos and free-food-if-you’re-resourceful of International Day; I even went three days without sleep in a brash effort to finish an art project. This new personal record threw me into a surreal state intoxicated by daze and dream. For the next two nights my dreams were disorientingly vivid. I do not regret a moment of it.
Unfortunately, nowhere in these fun filled three weeks have I found a home for mediation and contemplation. I hope to find this tomorrow. Sinai Liberation Day has in turn liberated me from a day of classes. Somewhere between the hours of homework I must complete, I will find a quite corner to occupy, and sit down with my subconscious and explain to it the facts of life. This done… I will do my best to forget them.
