Get busy livin'

The internet is a powerful thing. It's a source of endless information (some reliable, some not). It's a way to connect with people who have similar interests. It's a way to check out what's happening in the world. You can do everything from order pizza to submit your dissertation using the internet. I still remember the day I realized the internet's awesome power: I typed "The Lord of the Rings and Led Zeppelin" into Yahoo and came upon pages and pages dedicated to the connections between them. I thought to myself, this is an amazing, beautiful, terrible beast.

I didn't know I was gonna use it to make friends.

I have mentioned in the past my OWC (online writing circle). It's a close-knit group of friends. We share our writing, edit and comment on each others' stories, encourage each other. Two weeks ago, one of these friends died tragically in a car accident. Anjali was twenty-five years old. Like some of my internet friends, I actually met Anj in person before we were in the OWC together, but we grew closer over the internet. We had a lot in common. She was a musician and a teacher, and we shared the same passion for learning and education.

When I first starting surfing the web, I never imagined that I would make real, honest-to-God friends there. People to chat with? Sure. Folks to take the old futon off my hands? Absolutely. But friends? I had serious doubts about that. I guess I had the prejudice that "internet friends" were all a bunch of sexual predators who lied about being six-foot-tall buxom blondes. What can I say? I'm from New York. We're always on our guard. (To this day, when someone brushes past me--even if it's a kid--I check for my wallet. Old habits die hard, I guess.) I couldn't just assume that my internet friends would be real, amazing, wonderful people, could I? But they were. They are.

The way I found out about Anj was a phone call from another internet friend, Georgia. She's been a close friend for years, even though I met her in person for the first time a month ago. Georgia called to tell me about Anj, and the two of us cried for an hour together. Since then, we've been talking about how Anj's death has affected us, calling and texting when the day hits a rough patch or when something in particular reminds us of her.

The other day I was talking to one of my students, and we were talking about age. I asked her how old she is and she said, "I'm 25." And for some reason, that was just like a punch in the gut. Twenty-five years old. Like Anj. Here's my student, with nothing but awesome life in front of her, and Anj--whose life was taking off in new and interesting ways--who won't get the chance to do so many things. The way she died is also screwing with my head a little bit. Imagine leaving the house one day and just...never getting back home. Maybe she left dirty dishes in the sink, or the laundry unfolded (this is not a prompt for you to go do housework or anything). I know for a fact that she left 11 unanswered comments on her blog. God, that just hurts to think about.

From a purely selfish perspective, it's just scary to think that I could leave my work unfinished. I've got three novels going right now, and the idea that they might not be completed is frightening to me. And finishing them is going to get slightly thornier because of my new summer job. This post was supposed to be all about the job, but Anj was on my mind so it'll have to wait. I guess, though, that even if I live to be 110, there will still be things I would have wanted to do. I'm just that type of person, I think. I'm pretty sure Anj was too.

I'm grateful to the internet for allowing me a place to be friends with Anj, for giving us a forum to meet up and talk and discuss music and scholarship and Japanese and anime and Harry Potter. I'm grateful for having had the opportunity to know her over the last two and a half years. She wasn't just an "internet friend." She was a friend, and I'm gonna miss her terribly.

~Hero

P.S. Next time: The Sarah Marshall movie and the new job.