I’m basically an expert on keeping relationships interesting.

So last night I was on the phone with Boyfriend while he was cleaning out his car.

Me: Hey! I’m planning on doing that tomorrow too!! I can’t wait. It really needs it.

Boyfriend: I know, so does mine.

Me: What are you talking about? Your car is always clean. I’ve literally never seen anything in your car that shouldn’t be there… except for dog hair, but that’s usually my fault because it’s on my clothes.

Boyfriend: That’s because all the messy stuff goes into the trunk, and today I had to find something in there and now it’s just an explosion of stuff all over the car.

Me: That’s so weird. You want to know what’s in my trunk right now? One pair of shoes – and they’re not just haphazardly tossed back there. I opened the back of the Jeep the other day and all I saw was one pair of blue shoes, sitting neatly lined up next to each other, ready for me to step into them. Meanwhile, the back seat of the Jeep, there are ice skates, a weird Hobbit banner for some reason, a Where’s Waldo costume, more shoes, a poker set, and some towels that are all balled up in the corner of the seat. Do you know why those towels are all balled up back there?

Boyfriend: Because…

Me: Because I thought it would be nice to put some towels down for the dog so that when we go to the dog park he doesn’t get the back seat all dirty.

Boyfriend: Well, that makes sense.

Me: Except for the fact that when Gio got into the car, he looked at the towels and balled them up and moved them out of the way!!

Boyfriend: But see, you just described my trunk! I promise that I’m messy, too! We’re just reversed!

Me: Yes, but the difference here is that your mess is contained in a place where it is rarely seen. People aren’t sitting in your trunk I HOPE.

Boyfriend: That only happened once.

Me: Really? How strange…

Boyfriend: I can explain.

Me:  No, I’m saying that it’s strange because you’ve only had someone in your trunk once and I’ve only ever been in the trunk of someone’s car once…

Boyfriend: …I’m intrigued. I’ll explain mine if you explain yours.

Me: No.

Boyfriend: No?

Me: Let’s just agree to never explain those two scenarios to each other. That way we’ll never really know. It’ll be our way of keeping some mystery in this relationship.

Boyfriend: Fine, but I have a feeling that our stories are pretty much the sa-

Me: Shhhhh…

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Nothing can ever prepare you for this.

I lost a friend to suicide this week.

It’s not that I thought I was ready for this or anything. No one is ever ready for something like this. I just thought that maybe – just maybe – I understood it a little bit. I have read so many memoirs and blog posts about what it means to be depressed or suicidal. I have always been drawn to stories about people who suffer from mental illness and I think a huge part of that is because I wanted to understand. I had friends growing up who suffered from depression and hurt themselves, so I started reading and reading and reading, and while I knew that I could never understand on the I’ve-Been-There level, I thought that maybe all of this reading was helping me to get it on a cognitive one.

I will never understand this. Not that I’ll stop trying to, of course. I’ll keep reading and I’ll keep obsessing and I’ll keep reanalyzing every detail that I can to try and understand so that when I see the signs, I can stop it, but I don’t think I will ever fully understand. And I don’t think I really want to.

I don’t want to know what it’s like to be in that much pain and to feel that alone.

In a recent blog post written by Jenny Lawson, she talks about her “folder of 24”. It’s a folder full of 24 different letters she received from people who were actively planning their suicides when they read her “coming out” post on depression. More importantly, they read the comments section, which was flooded with me-toos and I-thought-I-was-the-only-ones. These messages saved at least 24 lives. I say “at least” because she goes on to say that when she would be out signing copies of her memoir, people would come up to her and whisper “I was number 25.”

There were so many 25’s,” she writes.

Why couldn’t he be a 25?

I know it’s not fair to ask that question, but I’m in a lot of pain and I’m not really in the mood to think about whether a question is fair or not, if I’m being honest. My friend took his own life and I wish he hadn’t. End of story.

So now, all I can do is hope that he is at peace, wherever he is. I have to hope that if he was in that much pain, that now he isn’t anymore. I have to hope that the solution that he came to was at least that: a solution. Was it the right solution? No. Not in my opinion and not in the opinion of anyone who knew him. The world would be an extraordinarily better place if he were still in it. I just wish he would have known that.

Garrett Janos and I met at church. He was drumming in the band and I was doing techie things. We clicked pretty quickly and I soon discovered that Garrett was so many things: kind, hilarious, and an amazing drummer. He always showed up when you needed him to, and he was never one to turn down an adventure. In fact, there were very few times when JH and I drove around with him in the daylight, now that I’m thinking about it. It was always about midnight runs to places, even if that place was the video store, where the three of us would come to befriend the manager and get free DVDs for the week, just for the love of movies. Garrett loved movies. He loved any form of creativity. And he was generous with his abilities.

My ButtonThe very first logo that this blog had was a black-and-white image of my face with a giant old-timey mustache and buckteeth. Garrett created that image one day when he was bored. He made different ones for a few friends and sent them off to us with a smile. When Awkwardly Alive and Pleasantly Peculiar was born, I knew there was no other image I could use for my logo. Since then, it has been revised and spruced up a bit, but the theme has stayed the same.

When my YouTube show, Page Break, was created, Garrett loved it so much that he sent me a sketch he started working on just out of the blue. That sketch became our logo for the show. Garrett wouldn’t let us pay him for it. That’s just how he was.

pagebreaklogo

Garrett was loved. He was important.

And so are you.

So please, if you’re considering suicide or if you’re suffering from depression, please reach out. Call a suicide hotline. Tell a friend or family member. If you’re in school, it’s likely that there is a free clinic where you can go and talk to someone. Go read Jenny Lawson’s posts on how depression lies, because that’s what it does: it lies. It’s really good at it and it’s incredibly convincing, but you have to remember that depression is lying to you.

You have to remember that you are loved. You are important.

And if you’ve ever lost someone to suicide before… how did you manage? What do I do?

A foundation has been started in Garrett Janos’s name to help fight mental illness. Donations can be made and more information can be found here. If you have anything to give, we really, really appreciate it. Let’s see if we can grow a few flowers from all of this dirt.

The mustachioed images he created of me (top), "John Hamm" (bottom) and himself (right).

The mustachioed images he created of me (top), “John Hamm” (bottom), and himself (right).

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The art of taking care of yourself is an art I have not-at-all mastered.

The other day I was sitting around reading the paper and drinking my coffee (like a real live adult!!) when I got bored and decided to text my best friend, John Hamm (not her real name (also not the actor), because privacy and whatever).

Me: The obituaries are boring today.

JH: I’m sorry no one interesting has died.

Me: Actually, this one guy was a cartoonist for disney and served in the Canadian Navy… So maybe I spoke too soon…

Me: And it’s not that the people weren’t interesting, it’s their obituaries that aren’t interesting.

Me: When I die, please write an awesome obituary for me.

JH: Why do you assume you’re going to die before me?

Me: Let’s be real.

JH: I smoke and I am in a high stress field. I am going first.

JH: My blood veins are going to look like linguini from stress shredding them.

Me: Yeah, but I’ve sustained three injuries this morning alone.

JH: Oh god, what did you do?

Me: I sliced my hand on the cheese grater while doing dishes.

Me: I tripped over the phone cord and smacked my knee.

Me: And I almost slipped outside and could have cracked my head open.

JH: Living alone is such a good choice for you.

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This totally counts as productive… right?

I’m supposed to be cleaning my apartment right now, but I got as far as clearing off my desk and putting some of my books away and then I was like “What’s happening on the internet?” and now I’m stuck to my couch and since Boyfriend has already called me once today just to give me a cleaning pep talk, I have decided that all hope is lost and that maybe I should just accept my fate and never move again.

It also doesn’t help that it’s snowing like crazy outside. I mean… this weather basically just begs you to be lazy. It’s all “Hey, LOOK: Everything is frozen! Nothing is alive! FOLLOW MY LEAD. FALL TO THE GROUND AND STAY THERE FOR SIX MORE WEEKS. IT’LL BE GREAT.”

But I really need to vacuum and there are still some dishes to do and stuff, so I thought I’d text Boyfriend one more time to see if he could help because the dog is all sorts of sheddy right now and this laziness and inability to adult is kind of unacceptable.

Me: I took a break. I can’t get up.

Boyfriend: Hehe

Me: I’M A USELESS BLOB OF LAZINESS

Boyfriend: But you’re still cute.

Me: CUTE DOESN’T CLEAN.

Boyfriend: That should be an inspirational cat poster.

Me: On it.

Boyfriend: Wait, did I just assist you with procrastinating?

Me: What? No.

I found that kitty picture here: http://www.buypetmedicine.com/pets/general/cute-kittens-and-cats-pictures/

I found that kitty picture here: http://www.buypetmedicine.com/pets/general/cute-kittens-and-cats-pictures/

***

In other news, I got an email the other day informing me that I have been nominated for the Funniest Blogging Award over at My So-Called Chaos’ Best Blog of 2015 Awards, which is insane!! I didn’t even know I was in the running to be nominated, so I’m seriously floored here. Thank you to whoever did this (I think I know who you are!).

This whole contest is based on votes, though, so this is where you come in, you awesome nerds. Click either on the link above or on the graphic below and head on over and cast your votes! Everyone who has been nominated (especially in the humor category) is amazing, so I know this will be tough for some of you, but I believe in you! YOU CAN DO IT!!! YOU GOT THIS!

2015 My So-Called Chaos Best of Blog Awards

 

And THANK YOU!!!

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If someone steals this idea, I will be pissed. Or honored. I’m not sure which.

A text exchange I recently had with my boyfriend during my lunch break:

Me: So this is a weird thing: I keep feeling slightly sick… But only at work…

Boyfriend: Well that is an interesting mystery.

Me: Right? My throat starts to get all sore and stuff.

Boyfriend: Wait, wasn’t there a problem with the heater? Did that get fixed?

Me: Yeah, it’s working now.

Boyfriend: Well I wonder if that has anything to do with the air quality of the shop since it is effecting your throat.

Boyfriend: affecting?

Boyfriend: stupid grammar…

Boyfriend:  poutemoji apparently this is the pouting face according to Apple… I disagree.

Me: That is a face of fury. Who pouts like that?

Boyfriend: I know! Silly Apple…

Me: We should write them a strongly worded letter.

Me: Using only emojis.

Me: And then we’ll see if they can decipher it correctly.

Me: And when they don’t, we’ll just be like poutemoji

Boyfriend: I like this plan.

Me: And then we can fork their lawn.

Boyfriend: We are going to need a lot of forks for Apple’s lawn, but that would be epicly amazing.

Me: Wouldn’t it?!? We could wear all black and do it in the middle of the night!

Me: I think it would be fun to break into major places like that and shut down their security systems all Ocean’s 11-like just for the sake of doing weird pranks.

Me: Can we be that couple?

Boyfriend: Of course we can!

Boyfriend: But we should wear mock turtlenecks and blue jeans as a sign of respect to Steve Jobs.

Me: This is why I like you.

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This is sort of just a weird update and reminder of the fact that my mom is an inspiration to us all.

I’ve been sort of sick this past week, which has put a real damper on my ability to do productive things.

Whenever I get sick I become the most helpless person in the entire universe. I know so many people who react to being sick by just powering through it and doing amazing things and looking their disease in the face and being like “SCREW YOU, DISEASE. NOTHING HOLDS ME BACK.”

I am not that person.

Yes, I still go to work or whatever, but it takes all of my mental energy, and as soon as I’m home, I’m in my bed or on my couch. My pants become sweats in the blink of an eye. My hair piles chaotically atop my head. My makeup smears. And I assume the attitude of a small, pathetic child instead of a freakishly tall, grown-ass adult woman.

I get super needy. I just want to lay around and have someone bring me tea and soup all day. Unfortunately my dog, Gio, pours a terrible cup of tea and spatters the soup everywhere when he cooks. It’s the worst.

I should admit something here: I’m not even really officially sick. I have a weird chest-cold type thing that results in my energy level being not-at-all altered and causing my voice to sound like a that of the love child of a sexy jazz singer, Emma Stone, and Marcel the Shell with Shoes On.

And then once every hour, I need to cough.

My nose also runs on occasion.

That is all it takes to turn me into a whiny child, constantly texting my boyfriend or my mother with messages that simply read “I’m dying. :(”

The boyfriend usually responds with things like “That is not allowed.” or “Please don’t,” which is nice.

My mother usually just says things like “It happens to us all eventually.”

Which, I suppose, is fair.

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I’m being awful because I feel awful

I’m super sick today so the bloggy thing isn’t happening as well as it should be. So, for now just feel free to dig through the archives? Who knows what you’ll find in there….

 

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I love you like these kitties: In a neck-biting, face-licking sort of way.

So I have this friend, Sara*. She was the first person I met in Stars Hollow when I moved here and there are days when I honestly don’t know what I would do without her.

You know when you’re a weird person and you move to a new town where you know no one except for the woman that hired you and you spend weeks praying that you’ll meet someone who is just as weird as you are, or at the very least can appreciate your level of odd? I met that person. That person is Sara.

Sara has a knack for writing me the greatest notes of all time, and since February is LetterMo, I thought this was the perfect time to share them with you:

On my birthday, she gave me this card:

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And inside she wrote this:

IMG_2880

This card has been hanging on my refrigerator for months now. I never intend to take it down.

So then I needed to go out of town one Sunday and I asked Sara if she would be so kind as to stop by my house and take the dog out in exchange for a beverage. She took that deal to heart because when I got home, I found this in my kitchen:

IMG_2870

IMG_2877

She later informed me that if it looked like the mug had been quite full, I shouldn’t be alarmed. It had simply sloshed around while she was drinking it while walking my dog.

She also took the time to switch my calendar over to February and properly mark any major upcoming events:

IMG_2876

Because she likes to make sure I’m always informed. And for that I love her. You know, in a neck-biting, face-licking sort of way.

*This is not the same “Sara” you have read about on this blog before. This Sara is breaking molds and has decided to use her actual name here on AAPP… That brave, brave woman…. 

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I’d be great at fighting crime. If my face was crime.

So Monday was a weird day.

I had gone to bed on Sunday night with a little bit of a migraine, not the worst of its kind, but still not awesome. It was one of those migraines that is dull enough to not ruin your day, but present enough to make you want to punch yourself in the face just to give the pain some validity.

Which is exactly what I did. I punched myself in the face.

Not on purpose. Sort of.

I was sleeping, and my migraine must have strutted into my dreams and was all “HEY! EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE SLEEPING, YOU SHOULD STILL BE VERY AWARE THAT I AM HERE. I’M GONNA MAKE MYSELF A SANDWICH, K? IS THAT COOL? NO? TOO BAD. I’M DOING IT. HEY, EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE SLEEPING, I’M GONNA MAKE MYSELF THIS SANDWICH, AND WHILE I MAKE IT, I’M GOING TO SLAM EVERY CABINET DOOR – EVEN THE ONES I DON’T NEED TO OPEN IN THE FIRST PLACE – JUST BECAUSE I DON’T WANT YOU TO FORGET ABOUT ME.”

In a way, I feel bad for Migraine. This is obviously just a cry for attention because he never got enough hugs as a baby migraine. Perhaps if I just accepted Migraine for who he was, we wouldn’t be in this situation at all… huh.

Either way, I didn’t accept Migraine, so he was being a douche and because he was being a douche, I decided, in my dreamy state of defense, to punch him in the face.

Turns out that his face is my face.I'D BE GREAT AT FIGHTING CRIME......IF

I woke up just in time to realize that my own fist was rocketing toward my face, but without enough time to do anything about it.

Obviously, I texted my bestbian, who calls herself “John Hamm” on this blog, about this situation:

Me: I punched myself in the face while I was sleeping last night.

JH: …what?

Me: Yup. Right in the eyeball.

JH: How do you know? Do you have a black eye?

Me: No, thank God, but I woke up when it happened.

JH: Omg I’m trying so hard not to laugh.

She loves me.

You’d think this is where the story ends. One would obviously assume that this is the only bad thing that someone’s face would endure in one day.

So let’s fast-forward to the end of the day, when I get home from work early because Snowmageddon2015 was about to hit Connecticut.

Monday was trash day, conveniently enough, so I got out of my car and thought to myself “Gee, I should probably bring in the trash can and the recycling bin so that they don’t get buried in the snow at the end of the driveway…” and then I high-fived myself for being a responsible, forward-thinking adult and headed down the driveway to retrieve said trash can and recycling bin.

It is important to note here that my driveway is at an incline and I was wearing impractical footwear.

So, I’m dragging the trash can behind me, through the already sort of deep snow, and I’ve got the recycling bin in front of me as I limp-scoot my way up the hill towards the house.

Me: I slipped bringing in the trash cans and bashed my chin on the recycling bin. This has not been a good day for my face.

JH: Oh my gosh, just go inside and put on padding.

Me: There are so many corners in here!!

JH: We’re gonna have to child proof your apartment.

 

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Humphrey.

So I was sitting in my living room, drinking my coffee and reading the paper the other morning when all of a sudden I heard a big BANG and a CRASH above my head.

Humphrey was rearranging.

Humphrey is my mysterious upstairs tenant. I don’t know what he is, but he lives in my attic and I have never seen him. He is definitely bigger than a mouse, but smaller than The Hulk.

Every now and again I hear him doing things up there and I think “I should go up there and investigate to figure out what he is,” but then I open my attic door and I start going up the stairs and suddenly everything gets very quiet  and all these images of a rabid opossum lunging at my face start going through my head so I turn around and go back downstairs, leaving Humphrey to live in peace. Let’s be honest here, people: Is there anything creepier than an opossum’s face coming at you from the dark?

Answer: No. No there is not.

I’ve decided that Humphrey is one of the following:

  1. A squirrel. He definitely runs around a lot and when he knocked over whatever he knocked over the other day, he ran laps around the attic for about half an hour in a panic. Also, I live out in the woods, so squirrels are in good supply around here. It’s the most logical answer if you’re into that sort of thing. He could also be a raccoon. Both of these options are adorable.
  2. A boggart. Humphrey never sounds like he’s just one size. Some days he sounds little, and on those days, Humphrey tends to hang out in the walls. Other days I can hear each individual footstep as he walks around the space above my bedroom. Either way, I’m sort of pissed that I still don’t have a wand because when it comes to boggarts, you really need a wand. Add this to list of reasons I need to go to Harry Potter World.
  3. The Weasley Family Ghoul’s Cousin. Obviously I’m not silly enough to think that The Weasley Family Ghoul moved from the Burrow to come live in my attic. That would be a ridiculous assumption. Maybe he has a cousin who did, though, right? I mean, this would make sense. Just like the Weasleys, I don’t think of Humphrey as a pest, but more as a pet at this point. I call up to him when he’s being to loud, or when things fall over, I shout “Are you okay, Humphrey?” and then he moves around a bit as if to be like “Yeah, I’m good, thanks!” Humphrey and I have excellent communication skills.

Whatever Humphrey may be, I have come to love him and the idea of him leaving my house feels very sad. Also, I’m sort of too terrified of him to try and kick him out. See photo above.

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