This is the sort of anniversary I don't want to acknowledge.
It's also the sort of anniversary I find impossible NOT to acknowledge. In the past year, I repeatedly told myself I was 'getting back to normal' and repeatedly wasn't. This once-in-a-lifetime friend enters my life and is there for a little more than three years. SO not enough time, but the folks that knew him for 5 or 15 or 20 years probably don't feel like they had enough time with him either.

I want to believe the universe owes me something, and it doesn't.
Fate doesn't, society doesn't, and even people don't owe me, and this is hard to accept because it just ISN'T FAIR! The only person who I can demand fairness from is me, and I'm not too sure about me.

For time to heal, the dangerous edge of memory has to be dulled. Memories have to be allowed to be memories instead of reminders of what's gone and examples of how life should be.

Heather, Peter and those of you who'll be together today, I'm thinking about you and Rick too. Imagine Rick saying, "Hey - I know that waiter. His name's Apu. Go ahead and ask him for some more water." Imagine him inquiring as to where his East Indian drag clothing has gotten to...

The funny thing? Tinker pointed out the Google ad for singing telegrams a la gorllas and chickens.

Right now, for me, it reads:
Wound Care -- singing telegrams
It's just weird enough to me to seem significant, even if the meaning exists only in my head. I dunno. There's probably some logical explanation, but if I choose to find meaning in coincidence, it's my bidness.