My best friend took his own life a couple months ago. We’ve been friends since we were little kids. We’re over 30 now.
He was a scientist. He was a fiance. He was a son. He was an uncle. He was loved dearly. He is missed horribly.
When you hear about something like this, you want to know why. I’m not going to share the details. There is no rational explanation. It threw me upside and confused all my senses. I still feel like I’m reeling. But I’m ready now to share my thoughts publicly; even on this medium, my absurdist comedy blog.
We as a society place an overabundance of value on our careers and our achievements. When you don’t meet your own lofty standards, it is easy to fall apart. Place your sense of self-worth within you. The fact that you are living is enough. The hard part is already over: you’re alive! Go do with your life what you wish. No life is wasted unless you choose not to live it. If you love watching TV, go watch TV. If you love surfing the internet, go surf the internet. Doing what you want is not a waste. It’s not pointless. Life IS the point. You’re already alive. Just live.
My best friend said that he knew his family and friends would forgive him, but he couldn’t forgive himself. Forgive yourself. Fail, suck, screw up, flail, falter, fuck everything up.
Failing is living. Go fail.
I was already naked when my roommate shouted, “I’m about to shower, so if you’re going to, use the other one!” Our bathroom is like a winter cabin spa. It’s got two rooms, one with the toilet and another for the double-sink and shower. You walk in and there’s shelves for towels and toiletries on the left, then the toilet room, then the sinks and the shower. And it’s all wood and mahogany and stuff. It’s nice. This is the basement bathroom. We have another on the third floor that’s more normal.
I was grabbing my shampoo from the shelves, naked, my clothes on the floor by the shower, when my roommate shouted from the toilet. I hesitated, unable to decide between arguing and giving in. That’s when I saw the knob turning and heard the door creak.
The door opened towards the shower. It would take her approximately 1.4 seconds for her to open the door, exit, close the door and see me. She was in between my clothes and me. I could scream for her to wait. Or…
I bolted. I took two stairs at a time up the spiral staircase. Pumping my left arm, shaking that shampoo, trying to cover my waggling junk with my right hand. Usually I enjoy being the center of attention, but not like this. I don’t want anyone but the most intimate of intimates to see my lanky limbs, pale rib cage and dinky Dinky. I do not need my roommates to know me this way.
When I hit the second floor, I froze. Tina Fey was strolling into the kitchen, long confident strides. Brown, wavy hair down to her shoulders, uncombed. Her back was to me. She hadn’t seen me. Her hand hovered behind her butt so I couldn’t see the crack. She was naked too.
I ran up the second flight, giggling. Nervous laughter but also complete relief. If Tina Fey can stroll through my home, naked, covering her junk with her hand and not feel a shred of embarrassment, I can too.
Tina Fey is like the epitome of cool so, yeah, my dreams are pretty cool.
SUPER MAN! For grad games night lol
Now she has a tumblog that’s nothing but reblogs of my posts. It’s like she knows exactly how to make me hate myself.
Interviewer: There’s one thing that’s interesting about your books. I noticed that you write women really well and really different. Where does that come from?
George R.R. Martin: You know, I’ve always considered women to be people.
“And I watch a lot of porn.”
I’m sorry, but if someone said this about a woman, it would not be funny. I hate the idea that it’s okay for women to be sexist toward men because sexism towards females is more prominent. This is why I don’t consider myself a feminist, but rather an equalist.
…”someone” says this about women all the time. Someone by the name of EVERYONE.
#Men Can’t Even Understand Jokes