exercise fuck yeah

This is a srs bsn post/ health update

ok, so no1curr but i'm going to put this here anyway. I'm going to try to finish my various "challenges" for tumblr early today (and finish the one i didn't do yesterday). I'm also going to at least try to get some of the ones for tomorrow done, because there's a growing chance that i'll be having surgery in the next day or so and won't feel up to doing much of anything. I'll queue the posts over on my tumblr (alilfallofrain.tumblr.com) but i can't promise that tumblr wont be a douchenozzle. hopefully even if i end up having surgery i won't be MIA for too long.

if you want more details about the challenges, or the surgeries or anything feel free to ask, though i make no promises that i'll answer you. And thanks, guys, for being there for me through everything <3

I Will Not Say Goodbye

When Danny Gokey's CD first came out I knew I was going to buy it and I knew I was going to get made fun of for buying it, but I didn't care. After a single time listening through the album I had a favorite song, a song that is both beautifully sung and amazingly emotionally powerful. The song "I Will Not Say Goodbye" has always been my favorite song on the album, and has always meant a lot to me, but never more-so than the past month.

Back in middle school and high school there was a four year span where I lost someone close to me every year; my paternal grandmother, my maternal grandfather, a friend of the family and a childhood best friend. My grandparents' deaths were both expected; they were old and both very ill. Emily, a close friend of the family, died of breast cancer, and, though we'd hoped she would recover, we weren't entirely surprised by her death - the hardest part of losing her was the fact that she was 39. Junior year of high school my childhood best friend died in a car wreck, she was 18 and set to attend Yale. While tragic, I hadn't spoken to Laura in years so it was somewhat disconnected from my life and a lot easier to deal with than I'd like to admit.

Anyway, the point is that I knew what the song was talking about, that when you lose someone you don't want to not remember them, and you don't want to feel better because feeling better means you're moving on and, well, it's easy to feel guilty about moving on with your life when your loved one can't. As the line "I will always see your face in the shadows of this haunted place" describes, there are certain places that will always make me remember those I've lost.

About a month ago, however, the song took on a whole new meaning for me. As previously mentioned in this journal, my friend Matt Beiter was killed in a car wreck on May 16th. He was 19 years old and so full of life and joy that at first I wasn't even sure if he could die. Our friend Dan called me to let me know about Beiter's death and I felt as though I'd been punched in the gut - the room was spinning and I didn't understand how this could possibly have happened. A week later his funeral was held at the big catholic church down the street from my house. The entire church was filled with people who loved Beiter, with people who Beiter loved.

When I was leaving the church I put on my iPod for the short drive back to Beiter's house. As I pulled out of the parking lot Danny's "I Will Not Say Goodbye" came on the shuffle and I had to pull over because  I started crying so hard. The song expressed everything that I was feeling and thinking, it was the perfect song for the moment. When the song ended I paused my iPod, took a deep breath and waited a moment to pull myself together before finishing the drive.

I listened to that song on repeat when I got home for 4 hours, and then repeatedly over the next few days.

Yesterday, June 20th, 2010, would've been Beiter's 20th birthday.

Matthew Raymond Beiter (June 20th, 1990 - May 16th, 2010 ) with Danny Gokey

Matthew Raymond Beiter, June 20, 1990 - May 16, 2010

When I met Matt - Beiter, as we all called him, I was 19, alone, and kind of terrified. Over the course of the show he, Dan and I grew close - they were the only other kids in the show even close to my age, other than the assistant director. When the show was over we remained friends, talking when possible and seeing each other a few times a year, usually during the summer. Every few months I'd get a call from Beiter, or Dan, and when I answered a cheery "hey, let's hang out!" would meet my greeting. That's why when, on Monday afternoon, I got a call with the caller-ID reading "Dan Stone" I thought it was just a routine "hey, what's up, let's hang out." I pressed 'ignore' and shot off a quick "can't talk - in the middle of something" text and expected a call a few hours later, we had the whole summer after all. When the reply text came instantly, a simple "call ASAP", I knew something was wrong, but I never dreamed.

Excusing myself from the party i stepped onto the sidewalk in Manhattan and called Dan back. My suspicions were confirmed when a solemn voice greeted me. Beiter died last night he said. It hit me like a punch to the stomach; the air rushed out of my lungs and i felt dizzy. I thought it was some cruel joke, that Beiter would call me 5 minutes later, laughing that infectious laugh of his, and I would laugh right along with them. But it wasn't a joke.

Matt Beiter was 19 (and 11 months) when he died. He was loud and he was obnoxious and i loved him like a brother. I hadn't seen him for almost a year - the last time being at the American Idol concert last summer - but I talked to him frequently, and I'd been looking forward to spending time with him this summer. He loved Harry Potter, LOTR, Zelda, Queen, so many things. As corny as it sounds, he was too good for this world, loved with all of himself and lived every moment.

Beiter, I never got to say goodbye, never got to show you my tattoo in person, never got to talk to you about AI9, or about the new zelda game I'd wanted (that you'd probably beaten already). We fought, stupid squabbles that weren't really fights as much as kind-hearted jabs. Being friends with you changed my life in a lot of ways, you were a part of some of the most important times in my life, you stood by me when I needed you. I wish there had been something I could have done, some way I could have prevented this, because you didn't deserve to die. I should have called you when I got back to DC, should've made more of an effort to see you again, and I will never forgive myself for not trying. You were a good kid, a great guy, and a beautiful person. I loved - love you, and I can't remember if I ever told you. You will be missed, Beiter, and you will be remembered. I'm a better person for having known you. RIP, kid.

Matthew Beiter and Matt Giraud, Washington DC, 8/4/2009 </3