D.C.

Washington D.C. is like an exotic fruit. I'm not sure if I actually like it, but I keep trying it because of the odd sensation it gives me.

I was in our Nation's Capital this past week. Many stories, many emotions, and many silly, little blog posts to write. But at the moment, I only want to write/ share one.

It was Saturday night. I was drinking, dancing, "house parting", when all of a sudden one of my friends from high school looked over at me and said:

"This is the most fun I've ever had in my life."

Granted, he had been drinking (quite a bit actually) but I really think he meant it. I know he did. Then you know what happened? My phone buzzed, I opened it, and I read a text message from one of my college friends.

"Howard died."

And I stared at it. Howard was one of my old teachers. That quintessential guy. You know the guy, right? That beautiful, quirky, somewhat perverted person who is truly unforgettable (the type who deserves a writer better than myself to describe him...but one day I'll try. Just not today).

It didn't make me sad when I read the text message, however. It was just a new rush of emotions that I wasn't sure how to handle. I still don't. You see, I was with people who I loved, living, who had never met Howard, another person I loved, now dead.

Does that make sense? Maybe it's not supposed to, because I guess that's what this weekend was: A juxtaposition of life and memories. I guess that's what everything is.