Monday, September 21, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Bark for Life
The American Cancer Society is holding an event in Cary on Oct. 31 called Bark for Life. It's a dog-walk version of their normal Relay for Life events.
Just like RFL events, you can raise money for the ACS. Anne started a team for Erik, of course, and we're in!
If you're in the Cary area and want to bring your dog along, join our team and walk with us! Otherwise, please donate what you can. Anything helps and is appreciated.
Let's raise some money for our friend Erik!
Just like RFL events, you can raise money for the ACS. Anne started a team for Erik, of course, and we're in!
If you're in the Cary area and want to bring your dog along, join our team and walk with us! Otherwise, please donate what you can. Anything helps and is appreciated.
Let's raise some money for our friend Erik!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
I'm Right Here, Waiting
Here's a special Erik-inspired music post. All of these songs will always remind me in some way of my friend.
Blink 182 - "Not Now"
We used to sit in my dorm room and play this song over and over. We both loved the drums in it, and it's a great song to play loudly. He especially loved the part right after the first verse where Tom DeLonge screams "Please save me."
Unfortunately, the song -- because of its lyrics -- took on a whole new meaning after his diagnosis. I'm not sure if he ever knew it, but Anne and I listened to this song and couldn't help but think of him, hoping it never came to what it eventually came to.
Yellowcard - "Only One"
This is another great song to play too loudly. Again we both loved the drums in this song, and the buildup in the chorus. His favorite line was always the part where the singer literally screams the words "Scream my lungs out." I can still see him mock-screaming it in my room.
Reel Big Fish - "Trendy" and "Beer"
If you've ever sat in my car at all, you've heard a Reel Big Fish CD --guaranteed. Whenever Erik would ride with me, he always specifically asked me to play these two songs. "Trendy" is a fun song with a great horn line, and "Beer" is just as classic a RBF song as there is.
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - "Maps"
I'll never forget listening to this song with him over and over and over in my dorm room. I lost track of the number of hours spent trying to teach him the guitar solo to this song. I'm certainly not guitar master, but I can play a few songs, and I can figure out a few things. Erik desperately wanted to play, and I had my electric guitar in the room. It was a good match.
He'd come in and ask for something easy to play that he could learn fairly quickly. This song played randomly one day, and he heard the solo. He asked if I knew it, so I messed around and figured it out -- it was a pretty rudimentary solo, but it sounded awesome -- it's essentially just sliding your hand up and down the fretboard. He'd try it for a while and just miss the right frets. Occasionally, he'd hit the right frets in the right rhythm, and he'd be so satisfied with himself.
Good times, man; good times. I also had a drum practice pad and some sticks in my room. He'd poke his head in and be like, "hey man, can I play with your practice pad some?" He'd sit behind me and try to play along with whatever song I was listening to at the time, and I tried to give him a few pointers. One thing I wish: I know how much he wanted to play the drums, and I wish he could have sat behind mine just for a few minutes so he could have played on a real set.
Anyway, just a few songs that will always remind me of Erik. I really do miss my friend.
Blink 182 - "Not Now"
We used to sit in my dorm room and play this song over and over. We both loved the drums in it, and it's a great song to play loudly. He especially loved the part right after the first verse where Tom DeLonge screams "Please save me."
Unfortunately, the song -- because of its lyrics -- took on a whole new meaning after his diagnosis. I'm not sure if he ever knew it, but Anne and I listened to this song and couldn't help but think of him, hoping it never came to what it eventually came to.
Yellowcard - "Only One"
This is another great song to play too loudly. Again we both loved the drums in this song, and the buildup in the chorus. His favorite line was always the part where the singer literally screams the words "Scream my lungs out." I can still see him mock-screaming it in my room.
Reel Big Fish - "Trendy" and "Beer"
If you've ever sat in my car at all, you've heard a Reel Big Fish CD --guaranteed. Whenever Erik would ride with me, he always specifically asked me to play these two songs. "Trendy" is a fun song with a great horn line, and "Beer" is just as classic a RBF song as there is.
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - "Maps"
I'll never forget listening to this song with him over and over and over in my dorm room. I lost track of the number of hours spent trying to teach him the guitar solo to this song. I'm certainly not guitar master, but I can play a few songs, and I can figure out a few things. Erik desperately wanted to play, and I had my electric guitar in the room. It was a good match.
He'd come in and ask for something easy to play that he could learn fairly quickly. This song played randomly one day, and he heard the solo. He asked if I knew it, so I messed around and figured it out -- it was a pretty rudimentary solo, but it sounded awesome -- it's essentially just sliding your hand up and down the fretboard. He'd try it for a while and just miss the right frets. Occasionally, he'd hit the right frets in the right rhythm, and he'd be so satisfied with himself.
Good times, man; good times. I also had a drum practice pad and some sticks in my room. He'd poke his head in and be like, "hey man, can I play with your practice pad some?" He'd sit behind me and try to play along with whatever song I was listening to at the time, and I tried to give him a few pointers. One thing I wish: I know how much he wanted to play the drums, and I wish he could have sat behind mine just for a few minutes so he could have played on a real set.
Anyway, just a few songs that will always remind me of Erik. I really do miss my friend.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Na Zdrowie
I really hope I got that right. It's Polish, and it means "to your health."
Erik used to say it every time he took a shot. Today, we said our final goodbyes to him at his funeral. From now on, it'll just be visiting where he rests.
He always told us he wanted his funeral to be a huge party. Anne said he once told her he wanted clowns at his funeral. She begged him not to do that, and I think I speak for everyone when I say I'm glad he listened to her.
But funerals aren't for those who've passed. They're for those who remain to grieve, to console and to begin the healing process. Before Thursday night at his wake, it just seemed like words.
"Erik passed away."
It wasn't reality. I could hardly believe the words as they come out of my mouth when I told Anne. It was something, some nightmare, happening somewhere else, in another life, to someone else. Just words. Horrible words we feared would come ever since his diagnosis, but still just words.
But walking into the funeral home, seeing tearful family members, seeing pictures of Erik when he was young and, of course, seeing him resting in the front of the room -- it's a stomach punch that brings you back to reality.
Oh that's right. It's not just words. "Erik passed away" is more than just a few letters making up a few words I know. It's real. He's in there. Well, he's not in there. And that's really the point.
The part that made Erik Erik -- that part is gone. The body is just a shell.
Jimmy V said "Cancer can take away all my physical abilities. It cannot touch my mind, it cannot touch my heart and it cannot touch my soul. And those three things are going to carry on forever."
Erik's soul will never die. Every time any of us who loved him do anything that reminds us of him -- that's how he lives on. The part that made Erik the person we loved was not lying in the casket in Goldsboro. That was a shell -- a shell that grew too weak to contain the force of nature that was the Erik we knew.
That's why funerals are important for those of us left behind. It marks the beginning of the end of the tears. It's the last goodbye. From now on, we'll never have to go say goodbye to Erik. We'll just go visit him where he now rests. From now on, the tears will fade more and more every day, as impossible as that may seem now. From now on, the laughter and happiness he brought will come to the forefront more quickly and last much longer.
We started that tonight. Erik always said he wanted this day to be a big party, so a few of us gathered together to go to East Village on Hillsborough Street. If you're friends with Erik and have spent any time in the Raleigh area, you probably have one or two hundred memories of him at EV.
The healing process begins now. Every day will get a little easier to get through. We won't miss him any less. But we'll be somber a little less. We won't love him any less. But we'll be sorrowful a little less.
We did our best to do kick off this next phase of our lives with Erik. I ordered a couple Jack-and-Cokes -- just as he would have done -- and we all had a round of shots. We lifted our glasses to our dear friend who left us much too soon, and we said the words he so very often said himself.
Na Zdrowie.
Erik used to say it every time he took a shot. Today, we said our final goodbyes to him at his funeral. From now on, it'll just be visiting where he rests.
He always told us he wanted his funeral to be a huge party. Anne said he once told her he wanted clowns at his funeral. She begged him not to do that, and I think I speak for everyone when I say I'm glad he listened to her.
But funerals aren't for those who've passed. They're for those who remain to grieve, to console and to begin the healing process. Before Thursday night at his wake, it just seemed like words.
"Erik passed away."
It wasn't reality. I could hardly believe the words as they come out of my mouth when I told Anne. It was something, some nightmare, happening somewhere else, in another life, to someone else. Just words. Horrible words we feared would come ever since his diagnosis, but still just words.
But walking into the funeral home, seeing tearful family members, seeing pictures of Erik when he was young and, of course, seeing him resting in the front of the room -- it's a stomach punch that brings you back to reality.
Oh that's right. It's not just words. "Erik passed away" is more than just a few letters making up a few words I know. It's real. He's in there. Well, he's not in there. And that's really the point.
The part that made Erik Erik -- that part is gone. The body is just a shell.
Jimmy V said "Cancer can take away all my physical abilities. It cannot touch my mind, it cannot touch my heart and it cannot touch my soul. And those three things are going to carry on forever."
Erik's soul will never die. Every time any of us who loved him do anything that reminds us of him -- that's how he lives on. The part that made Erik the person we loved was not lying in the casket in Goldsboro. That was a shell -- a shell that grew too weak to contain the force of nature that was the Erik we knew.
That's why funerals are important for those of us left behind. It marks the beginning of the end of the tears. It's the last goodbye. From now on, we'll never have to go say goodbye to Erik. We'll just go visit him where he now rests. From now on, the tears will fade more and more every day, as impossible as that may seem now. From now on, the laughter and happiness he brought will come to the forefront more quickly and last much longer.
We started that tonight. Erik always said he wanted this day to be a big party, so a few of us gathered together to go to East Village on Hillsborough Street. If you're friends with Erik and have spent any time in the Raleigh area, you probably have one or two hundred memories of him at EV.
The healing process begins now. Every day will get a little easier to get through. We won't miss him any less. But we'll be somber a little less. We won't love him any less. But we'll be sorrowful a little less.
We did our best to do kick off this next phase of our lives with Erik. I ordered a couple Jack-and-Cokes -- just as he would have done -- and we all had a round of shots. We lifted our glasses to our dear friend who left us much too soon, and we said the words he so very often said himself.
Na Zdrowie.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Erik Hrebenuyuk
This guy, man. This guy.
Five years ago, I moved into a suite in Bragaw Hall at N.C. State for my final semester of college. I can't even begin to explain the crazy things that happened that semester. A hundred stories for another day.
Erik was there for many them. He was there for ME for many of them, anyway. There were considerable shenanigans, and those shenanigans also included some of the toughest times of my life up to this point. Needless to say, I couldn't have gotten through any of it without friends like Erik. He helped me through a ton. Just a ton.
Three years ago, he was diagnosed with bone cancer in his pelvis. A few months later he was in remission. In April of 2008, it came back. Fiercely. We heard he had six months to a year to live. Well, Erik, you fought long and hard. But you're finally free.
Erik passed away just after midnight early this morning -- Sept. 2, 2009 -- more than a year and a half after that horrible prognosis.
So buddy, I'll think of you every time I drink on a Wednesday night. Every time I read a paper with strange capitalizations and an...interesting writing style. Every time I ever watch the movie Pineapple Express because James Franco sounds JUST like you in it.
I'll think of you every time we make plans to go out at night because you NEVER could commit. Always had to "see what my options are." :) Every time I think of the movie The Ladies' Man for that one scene: "It says here your interests are tennis and, what's this, does that say dabut?" "No, no, dat's da butt."
And Cook Out and "I'm Not OK" and Eurotrip and "Only One" and scotch and Risk ("Gen-u-ine and fortified") and Rise Against and "Beer" and a million other little things.
I'm cracking open a Rolling Rock and drinking with you on a Wednesday night one more time, just like we used to do it.
I love you, and I'll miss you. Rest in peace, Erik. You're finally free.
Five years ago, I moved into a suite in Bragaw Hall at N.C. State for my final semester of college. I can't even begin to explain the crazy things that happened that semester. A hundred stories for another day.
Erik was there for many them. He was there for ME for many of them, anyway. There were considerable shenanigans, and those shenanigans also included some of the toughest times of my life up to this point. Needless to say, I couldn't have gotten through any of it without friends like Erik. He helped me through a ton. Just a ton.
Three years ago, he was diagnosed with bone cancer in his pelvis. A few months later he was in remission. In April of 2008, it came back. Fiercely. We heard he had six months to a year to live. Well, Erik, you fought long and hard. But you're finally free.
Erik passed away just after midnight early this morning -- Sept. 2, 2009 -- more than a year and a half after that horrible prognosis.
So buddy, I'll think of you every time I drink on a Wednesday night. Every time I read a paper with strange capitalizations and an...interesting writing style. Every time I ever watch the movie Pineapple Express because James Franco sounds JUST like you in it.
I'll think of you every time we make plans to go out at night because you NEVER could commit. Always had to "see what my options are." :) Every time I think of the movie The Ladies' Man for that one scene: "It says here your interests are tennis and, what's this, does that say dabut?" "No, no, dat's da butt."
And Cook Out and "I'm Not OK" and Eurotrip and "Only One" and scotch and Risk ("Gen-u-ine and fortified") and Rise Against and "Beer" and a million other little things.
I'm cracking open a Rolling Rock and drinking with you on a Wednesday night one more time, just like we used to do it.
I love you, and I'll miss you. Rest in peace, Erik. You're finally free.
Allie -- The Doofy Dog
Anne took Allie to Umstead Park today. Not a whole lot of people around, so she let her off the leash to roam the trails with her. Here are three videos that resulted from the trip. Very excellent.
Allie at Umstead I
Allie at Umstead II
Allie at Umstead III
Allie at Umstead I
Allie at Umstead II
Allie at Umstead III
A funny thing happened on the way to Webster Street
I've always hated running. Unless it was part of a baseball game or a basketball game when I was younger, I've never been much of a runner.
It's not like I'm in bad shape or anything. For the past few years, I could get out and run three miles without too much trouble. I always felt like that was a good amount, a solid distance for a "non-runner."
Two years ago, Anne ran a half-marathon. She tried for a while to get me to run it with her. Hey, I'd say, I'm not a runner. I'll go sit at the finish line and watch. And I did. She (and two of her friends) successfully ran a half-marathon.
I watched her train, and every weekend a progressively longer long run -- up to 10 miles the weekend before the race. Just the thought of running that much -- blegh. I'd rather kick myself in the stomach than run that much.
Then last year, Anne ran a FULL marathon. 26.2 miles. Yikes. She did it though. Months of training, and she finished on race day.
Now it's this year, and she's going to do the Raleigh half-marathon. So I was thinking about it. She did a full marathon. Surely, I can get my increasingly fatter ass up and train for a half-marathon right? And then I will keep myself from, well, getting increasingly fatter.
And I have been. Training began on August 10. Four days of running, two days of strength training and rest. What I've found is this is different than just waking up in the morning and running. I'm competing against myself now.
I played sports growing up, and if you talk to me for, oh, a few seconds, you'd know I'm a pretty competitive person. Now there's a goal. I get up in the morning and try to run three miles because I have to run four on Sunday. Then I get up and run three and a half because I have to run five miles on Sunday.
I actually look forward to running now, to pushing myself and trying to surpass what I'd been capable of before.
This past Sunday, I ran five miles straight without stopping. Well, OK, I had to stop for crosswalks since I live in a city now. But I didn't walk any of the five-mile distance. I'd never done that before, and completing the five-mile run showed me that, you know what, I really CAN do this.
I mean, I knew I could do it before, but just in that, "hey you can do anything you put your mind to!" way. Now, I actually can do it, because I've done a third of the distance. This is the end of week four of training, which will culminate with another five-mile run on Sunday. Then six miles, then a 5K, then seven miles, eight miles, a 10K, nine miles, 10 miles and race day.
The thought doesn't seem so daunting anymore, and I'm excited to do it. So there you go. I'm not sure I can call myself a "non-runner" anymore. I'm training for a half-marathon.
Who knew?
It's not like I'm in bad shape or anything. For the past few years, I could get out and run three miles without too much trouble. I always felt like that was a good amount, a solid distance for a "non-runner."
Two years ago, Anne ran a half-marathon. She tried for a while to get me to run it with her. Hey, I'd say, I'm not a runner. I'll go sit at the finish line and watch. And I did. She (and two of her friends) successfully ran a half-marathon.
I watched her train, and every weekend a progressively longer long run -- up to 10 miles the weekend before the race. Just the thought of running that much -- blegh. I'd rather kick myself in the stomach than run that much.
Then last year, Anne ran a FULL marathon. 26.2 miles. Yikes. She did it though. Months of training, and she finished on race day.
Now it's this year, and she's going to do the Raleigh half-marathon. So I was thinking about it. She did a full marathon. Surely, I can get my increasingly fatter ass up and train for a half-marathon right? And then I will keep myself from, well, getting increasingly fatter.
And I have been. Training began on August 10. Four days of running, two days of strength training and rest. What I've found is this is different than just waking up in the morning and running. I'm competing against myself now.
I played sports growing up, and if you talk to me for, oh, a few seconds, you'd know I'm a pretty competitive person. Now there's a goal. I get up in the morning and try to run three miles because I have to run four on Sunday. Then I get up and run three and a half because I have to run five miles on Sunday.
I actually look forward to running now, to pushing myself and trying to surpass what I'd been capable of before.
This past Sunday, I ran five miles straight without stopping. Well, OK, I had to stop for crosswalks since I live in a city now. But I didn't walk any of the five-mile distance. I'd never done that before, and completing the five-mile run showed me that, you know what, I really CAN do this.
I mean, I knew I could do it before, but just in that, "hey you can do anything you put your mind to!" way. Now, I actually can do it, because I've done a third of the distance. This is the end of week four of training, which will culminate with another five-mile run on Sunday. Then six miles, then a 5K, then seven miles, eight miles, a 10K, nine miles, 10 miles and race day.
The thought doesn't seem so daunting anymore, and I'm excited to do it. So there you go. I'm not sure I can call myself a "non-runner" anymore. I'm training for a half-marathon.
Who knew?
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