Bullies

When I was in first grade Mark Thomas called me fat. It was devastating but I cried to my parents and they made it better. I have weight issues but I don’t think that that one event was the sole cause. Mark and I spent the rest of our school years in separate classes until eighth grade when we sat next to each other and became friends. We never discussed the incident I just assumed he forgot.

That is sort of the perfect snapshot of elementary school for me. I was never popular but I wasn't an outcast. Aside from one or two girls I’d know from my toddler days, that carried through all nine years, I had an ever changing cast of people I hung out with. I had a different "best friend" countless times, every one of whom fell by the waste side when given enough time. In High school, which was all girls, I met my sister from another mister, Lauren, who I am confident will be my best friend forever and the two of us had our same group (us plus Natalie and Erin) for four years. Acquaintances came and went, so did Lauren and my boyfriends, but our clan was solid. We were a small group but it was there that I learned it's better to have a few great friends than 100 people to hang out with.

What can I say, Girls are bitches and kids suck but I was never really bullied. Life isn't easy but it helps to have a good sense of humor and laugh at yourself. Then again maybe kids just got worse. You hear a lot about people being bullied to death and recently a friend of a friend literally ate a bottle of pills and had written out the notes (including one to the bullies explaining how they did it and how she hoped they were happy.) She wasn't bluffing, she planned to die. Luckily her mother caught it in time.

I don’t know what to say to rectify the situation that we face in this world. I had great parents that I could always talk to, but this girl has a great mother too. I always felt comfortable talking to my teachers and maybe kids don’t have this anymore. I guess four years at my liberal hippy college has made me soft but I don’t understand the bullies themselves. Why can't we all just get along? Differences are what make us who we are and they should be embraced.

Cookie it's been two years since the day…

Two years ago, I had never heard of Ryan Star, Lion of Ido, Green River Ordinance, Crash Kings, Burn Halo, Tonic, or Sleeperstar.

Two years ago, my Ipod had maybe 500 songs, none of which were by artists like Blue October, Our Lady Peace, HIM, or We the Kings.

Two years ago, concerts were a rare occurrence mostly brought on by winning free tickets, and I never traveled for them.

Two years ago, I had no drive to see Washington or Atlantic City and would never have wanted to travel to Tulsa, Oklahoma to see the then debunked band, MWK or the yet to be released To Have Heroes.

Two years ago David Cook was just an American Idol contestant who blew my mind with his songs but then a little after 1O o’clock on May 22, 2008 this happened and neither David nor my life has been the same since.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LDdTCXaQFCw

(download this video @ http://www.megaupload.com/?d=LC1IVIL4 )

Thank you David for, not just the music, but also for introducing me to the soundtrack of my life and for giving me the drive to create memories that will make me smile long after everything else is gone.

Eating in Washington, AKA the “I need milk!” blog

I am a bit of a finicky eater but I do eat a decent variety of foods. I was never the kid who ate the same thing everyday; in fact, even as an adult I get bored with having anything too frequently. The issue with me is I like the familiar and have a huge issue with trying new things. If I didn’t try it by the time I was 14 years old, the chances are I’m not going to eat it. The handful of things that I have tried have happened one of two ways: I have either tasted someone else’s food (most likely the people I baby-sit for) or the more common one, I’ve sampled it at some place like Costco.

My draw for the familiar always presents a challenge when traveling because even if it is pizza, it isn’t New York City Pizza so even that leads me to be leery. In fact I try my hardest to never eat pizza out of town since I always end up disappointed.

Friday night we decided that, since we needed to pick up our race shirts in the hotel around 7, we would attempt diner at Potomac Bar and Grille located in the hotel lobby. Added bonus: they have happy hour specials, which were amazingly cheap so Lauren and I decided to get a bunch of appetizers and split them. The pulled pork sliders, fried ravioli, and mozzarella sticks were enjoyable and definitely a good portion for somewhere between $20 and $30 but we decided to follow it up with dessert from Cold Stone Creamery rather than a menu item.

Sticking with my none adventurous taste buds Saturday Morning we had Lattes from Starbucks and a breakfast buffet at the hotel café Veranda followed by a lunch of ½ a grilled cheese and 2 chicken fingers (ok fine and another coffee)in the American History Museum. Sunday’s breakfast was a Frappacino from Starbucks, McDonald’s ice coffee (I am not addicted) and cheeseburger for lunch, and a great steak from a restaurant with horrible service for dinner.

There was, however, two new additions to my diet on Saturday night. After a long day of walking around Washington, finding the Cathedral, and seeing the awesome display on the Metro I decided I would try my first ever steak quesadilla (blame the drag queens for waking my adventurous side.) I have eaten Chicken quesadilla for about six months after loving a Costco sample in the early fall but this was a challenge. The dish came with guacamole on the side, another thing I’d never tried as I don’t like plain avocado, so I figured what’s the harm in tasting the tiniest bit? Well I now know that I kind of love guacamole! In fact, I was eating it so much that I made Lauren take it away from me, in case I have an allergy so that I didn’t ingest too much on the first try. She really had to keep it away from me too because I kept reaching across the table to try to get it back.

The quesadilla was delicious and not spicy except for one jalapeño that must’ve accidentally fallen in during preparation because it wasn’t on the menu. I had eaten almost the entire thing when all of a sudden I bit through the pepper and thought I was going to die. It felt like I was one of those cartoon characters that have flames shoot from their mouths. I could barely talk but remembering all of the Food Network shows that I have watched, I managed to spit out, “I NEED MILK.” I guess the way it came out was funny because Lauren started laughing which led me to follow in suit and soon we were hysterical. What a sight we must’ve been because we laugh until we were tearing up and the entire time I was trying to cool off my tongue, hanging it out of my mouth like a pug. After the waiter brought my milk (that I chugged) I finished my delicious and no longer deadly dinner and followed it up with Apple Crumb pie with Vanilla Ice Cream just for good measure.

The moral of the story, sometimes trying new things is worth it but have milk near by if there is even the slightest change it could be spicy.

Race For Hope Pictures

Since people have asked, here are some pictures from that very special morning

Cook's pep talk to the team

tattoo reads:

"So, when your eulogy's being read with your life's actions to rehash...
Would you be proud of the things they say about how you spend your dash"

David Cook and
survivors

crowd

Cook Family

Runners

Ryan Star and David Cook

Jackyl

Cook's bassist Monty Anderson

Andrew and Monty listening to David

David Cook

Andrew Cook with mother Beth Foraker

David Cook with his father Stan, stepmother Viki, and Mother Beth

2 Girls From New York Go Into a Bar

By Sunday night, Lauren and I were exhausted. The Race for Hope is well worth getting up at 6:30 for but 12 hours on our feet later, with five and a half hours until our bus arrived to take us back to New York, we were desperate to find something to do that didn’t involve walking or even thinking too hard. Luckily, Ryan Star was playing a show in Arlington, Va. and having seen him twice in the last month alone, it was a sure bet that he would help us make the time fly until departure. Coincidentally, departure was at 11:59 and for those of you that don’t know that is the title track off of Star’s album due out in July, perhaps it was destiny.

I’m not going to lie; this was not my typical concert going experience. I could’ve cared less about how my hair looked and the only reason I was wearing makeup was because it was still on my face from the morning. Ryan saw me all made up Easter night, a few weeks ago at Webster Hall, and that very morning at the race, he knows what I look like. Moreover, the 8:30 show wasn’t about seeing one of my favorite musicians; it was about killing time with a place that sounded like it would have seats. I do feel somewhat bad about going into the show with this mind set but Washington and the surrounding area is very weird about closing times; almost everything locks its doors by 8 and my feet just couldn’t handle another night wandering around seeing the monuments. The only other option was sitting in the hotel lobby for hours on end.

When we got to IOTA Café and Club we quickly realized that the café and club were separated so sitting for the show wasn’t going to happen. There was however, an adjoining bar so we opted to sit there while Star’s opener performed. We could hear The Influence perfectly and while sitting there, Star, who was standing next to the club side of the bar, even recognized and nodded “what up” to us. You know that you have seen a performer a lot in a short amount of time when they recognize and acknowledge you first.

As soon as the set was over we (which included our suitcase) headed over to the music side and surprisingly got a spot right in front of the stage. We were in for an added bonus when Ido of Lion of Ido (http://lissiedsviewfromhere.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-first-culture-shock.html) did a surprise mini set as a prelude to Star, and then the pair even did a duet together. You had to laugh at the irony, here were two New York girls ending their first visit to Washington D.C. watching three New Yorkers (Star was accompanied in his set by band mate Dallin Applebaum) perform.

I know that I have said this before but it bears repeating, if you ever have the opportunity to see a Ryan Star performance do it. What stared out as something to do to kill time turned into yet another amazing night. Star as the costar with Ido, shook and fidgeted in the background with the look of someone going through DTs while during his own set he flailed and jumped and gave everything he had, commanding all the attention he so rightly deserves. He did a little Bon Jovi, he did a little Meatloaf, he talked about how grateful he is for the fans bringing him into the forefront of the music world. It was a 21 and older show, something he’s been waiting for, so he talked about R rated stuff such as how his mother explained to him the importance of body hair so that he doesn’t slip during sex and what he used to do after seeing “Saved By the Bell’s” Kelly in a bathing suit. Oh and he said all of this with his mother and father standing right behind me.

He finished the night by talking about the amazing privilege he felt being a part of the Race for Hope (it was nice to see he was as tired as I was and felt equally as blessed.) He signed his runner number and planned to auction it off for Accelerate Brain Cancer Cure and then dedicated his current hit “Breathe” to everyone involved in the race, specifically the survivors. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house as the entire audience sang along to the anthem I personally thought should’ve been playing that morning.

THE RACE FOR HOPE

It is actually really hard for me to write this without sounding cliché because if you weren't there it is impossible for you to understand what it was like to be a part of it. The greatest speakers and writers (neither of which I consider myself) would have issues because words can never do justice to what I’ve been through. It hits on every sense; to see and hear the stories you actually can feel the hope, the passion, and pain of the participants. Everyone there has a story, everyone there is or knows someone who has heard "you have brain cancer," so everyone gets it. The smell of grass and the taste of ice pops will forever more bring me back to 11,000 or so smiling people.

You read that right, smiling. Every single person there is smiling, happily awaiting the day when there is no longer a need for a Race for Hope. Until that day we run or walk. And we cry, you bet your booty we cried!

We cried for those we've lost. We cried for the pain of those who fought and those who are still fighting. We cried tears of joy for every person who heard the seemingly insurmountable odds and said I will not be a statistic; I will be a survivor. Most important, we cried together. There is something to be said about knowing you are not alone; to know that if this monster rears its ugly face in your life you have an army behind you and these people are strong! I hope you never have a brain tumor but if you ever do, these are the people you want on your side.

There was a girl honored, her name is Jaclyn Murphy. She is a big lacrosse fan. When she was diagnosed her spirits were broken. She was sick and frail and to cheer her up, her father would point at a picture of a lacrosse player that hung in the hospital and he would tell her that one day that would be her. She didn’t believe him. With nothing left to lose, her father got in contact with a woman's lacrosse team and the team adopted her as their little sister. They started calling and e-mailing, having too many people supporting her not to fail, Jaclyn got better. She's cancer free today and she wants to help others to fight as well. She told her parents how all kids deserve a team behind them and they created a charity that pairs pediatric brain tumor patients with college teams.

And then there is David Cook. Last year he joined the race in support of his brother Adam, who was diagnosed with a brain tumor in 1998, and had been battling a relapse for two years. Last May, the younger Cook ran the 5k without a word, met with survivors, and talked with fans about the importance of the race. He then stood on a stage in front of 9 thousand people and explained that Adam had actually passed away the night before. He tearfully promised that, even though, "I lost one," that he would be back this year, "and every year that they will have me." It was that moment, as I watched Cook stand in the rain (via the internet) on an unseasonably cold day in Washington, that I swore that this year I would be there. I wanted more than anything to have been there that day because, although my aunt (and now Adam) had lost, we could not give up the fight. In March, I officially joined team David Cook because even if he didn't go I wanted to be there.

Sunday rolled around and, needless to say, Cook kept his promise and then some. Not only did he come but he was surrounded by his younger brother Andrew, their father Stan, mother Beth, step-mother Viki, and step-father Grenvell. Not only that, but the Cook family was joined by Cook's bassist Monty Anderson, Ryan Star and his band mate Dallin Applebaum (both of whom opened for part of Cook's Declaration Tour and were on tour with him when Adam died) Star's wife Halle, and Star's parents and every single one of them wore an "in memory of Adam Cook" tag.

After meeting with his team of 300 or so members, Cook went to the survivors’ tent once again, and then he went to the race line to meet up with his support system. What happened next, it was only a coincidence that I saw it.

The survivors were each given a yellow balloon and as they started running, I noticed the Cook men were standing directly across the street from where I was photographing the survivors, and all three of them were holding on to the same yellow balloon. Then I saw the most beautiful thing; Stan, Andrew, and David all looked to heaven and let the balloon go to Adam. No fanfare, no media attention just a simple moment that reminded me, just because we don't see our loved ones anymore, it doesn't mean they are gone.

Quick stats:
*I shattered my goal of $200 with an amazing $440.00!
*David Cook's Team for a Cure (which I was a part of) currently has achieved $200,000!!
*and most notably, the race earned $2.3 million overall so far

Final totals won't be in until the donating closes August 1.

A funny thing happened on the way to almost everywhere…

I don’t think that I mentioned that my travel to and from Washington DC was on a bus. It was very cost efficient and comfortable, and I would definitely use the company again. There was one small hitch in the trip down, about 10 minutes after going through the Lincoln Tunnel the bus had to be pulled into a rest stop because of a transmission issue. The bus was apparently buzzing and after about a half hour of radio back and forth between our very apologetic driver and headquarters, it was decided that the bus could make the trip down and didn’t need a replacement. 5 or so hours later, we pulled in to Washington just in time because the bus began to buck. These things happen, nobody’s fault, and again it didn’t ruin the trip but it was very odd.


On Saturday, during the never ending quest to find the National Cathedral, Lauren and I got separated. That is to say the Metro doors closed between us, leaving me on the platform. Unlike the New York subways, which have doors that pop open if you put an arm or purse in between them, the Metro doors will cut your limb in half or leave your bag hanging. We had been warned not to try and hold doors open so instead we stood on opposite sides of the glass mouthing “one stop” to each other and holding up one finger. It was all very funny in retrospect. Twenty minutes later we met up at the next stop in one piece.


That night, on the way back from the Cathedral we aimed to get on the Metro, but ended up on the Looney Toon express. Picture this, our train car consisted of an older couple, a 20 or 30 something year old woman, a man with a camera, a group of drag queens, and Lauren and I. The guy with the camera says he wants to take a picture of the couple and the older man puts up his leg on the hand rail like a stripper. Kind of cute. Then the young woman says that she will show him how it’s done a spins around the poll. At the same time the drag queens begin walking up and down like they are on a run way until they star dancing, followed by old man attempting the spin around as the man photographs it all. When it’s all done the older couple tells the photographer to “facebook” them so they can see the pictures before existing and the drag queens begin to discuss how one of them isn’t out at work (I guess he does drag for sport.) I know you probably can’t believe any of this because I was there and I’m not sure it actually happened.


All of our Sunday travel was pretty mild in comparison; we did meet a former New York cab driver. We always manage to find a New Yorker excited to talk about “back home.”