Remembering Robin

One year ago I was sitting on my butt on an ugly sofa in a pretty nice apartment feeling sorry for myself. If you don't know the story -- here it is in a nutshell: A tree fell on my house a little over a year ago - the end of June in 2014. It barely missed my son as he sat in front of his computer in his bedroom. You really don't want to have a tree fall on your house -- the impact is something you will never forget and the fright which I felt -- not knowing where to go or what to do...well, is something I would not want to have anyone feel. The sofa and apartment, all all other amenities save for clothing and personal belongings was provided to my son, my daughter, and myself through my insurance company. They let you "have" stuff until you move back into your house. In my case it took nearly a year -- a divorce and a re-divorce (yes, there is such a thing), no job, no parents (or relatives to speak of other than my children), a contractor issue, and kitties in a boarding place...really gets old after awhile and gets to be quite depressing. Really depressing.

But not as depressing as the news of the day - which was Robin Williams' death

I remember the first time I saw Robin -- it was on some "Evening at the Improv" or some such show which aired really late on television on the weekend. You know the kind -- they had about five comics coming on, each doing their bit -- and, if you're lucky, you laugh. Comedians were a mainstay on "The Carson Show" and "Letterman" back in the day, and, back in the day, they had three channels and you waited all weekend for things like cartoons and comedy shows. They didn't have cable - they didn't have cussing -- and they didn't have overly sensitive politically correct comedians coming on and trying in vain to entertain you.

Anyway, this was a hair's breadth away from seeing Robin (and, yes, who wasn't on a first-name basis with the man) make his "Happy Days" debut and then get catapulted into TV sitcom fame with "Mork and Mindy". A couple people came on beforehand and then Robin hit the stage...and he hit it like a bolt of lightning.

Out of the blue this guy came on and television was never the same.

Now there were stand-up comedians before and after...but not with the (again with the) lightning wit of Robin (in my opinion). Whenever Robin was on a talk show, you knew you were in for a treat. Some people seemed to never "get" him and others just couldn't get enough OF him. I fell into the latter category.

So, naturally, when the news broke...I broke down into tears. I'm in tears typing this. What a sad, sad day in history...but...let's put aside the sadness and also the rules of this group...and please share some of your fondest memories of the wonderful, irreplaceable Robin Williams, below.

 

(The spacing is odd again...I wanted it to use the justified way, but, it reverted back to this and I can't change it up again.  One day I will go on over to Wordpress.  Does anyone know Wordpress well enough to talk me through a set-up?")

My Theory #1: Depression

"Modern Times" (1936) with Charles Chaplin and Paulette Goddard...the final scene where he tells her to "smile"...this is also Charles Chaplin's last silent film.

I have been thinking and thinking about why I've been so blah and depressed and have no energy for what seems like years now. And other than the obvious reason -- long, pre-divorce situation, and my health...I've decided there are things I used to do in my past which made me happy...that I don't do anymore.

1) Cook. I used to always get Gourmet magazine and before that one, Cuisine magazine - ever since I was 16 years old. I haven't gotten any sent to me in a couple years...and now I have no desire to cook. Sure, I love Epicurious.com - but, the mouth-watering photos you see in a real, honest to goodness magazine...can't be found "paging" thru some website. So, I'm going to start up another subscription.

2) Read Vogue magazine. For years and years - probably ever since I was about 15...I had a subscription to Vogue...and I always put on make-up and was impeccably dressed. Sure, I live in crappy Alabama and it's not the same as NJ...which is next to NY...and that, being the fashion capital of the world...knew how to dress -- but, I don't put a face on anymore and I dress like a better-than-average sloburbinite...so I'm going to start up a subscription.

3) Watch funny sit-coms on television. I used to watch hilarious sit-coms...you know, back when they had this thing called "writers"...and they used to pay these things called "actors" to be funny and read the scripts. For instance, the shows "Soap", "Taxi", "Cheers", "Seinfeld" and "Frasier"...now it's just a sea of endless crap on -- and all I watch are documentaries and old films on Turner Classic Movies...which isn't bad at all...but, late at nite I find myself watching icky things like "Unsolved Nasty-ass Crimes Upon Humanity" where they go into detail of the brutal killing of innocent people - and show graphic things and display graphic warnings about the soon-to-be-shown graphic imagery. And then I read the "horror killing of the day" on the news...which always tells you about some mother or father murdering their child in a more horrible way than the one the day prior. So, all I do...is get spoon-fed misery. I want to laugh again. I find myself not even watching Letterman or Craig Ferguson...both of whom I laugh at. I just sit here and probably think horrific things in my subconscious...and get more and more depressed...because the news is constantly shelling out dismality (is that a word - if not, it should be)...and I don't laugh...and laughter, unlike Xanax, is probably really the best medicine after all.

I'll keep you up-to-date if it's working...at least it's cheaper than therapy.

My Wonky Thyroid and Me

(Arrows indicating approximate location of my wonky thyroid.)

Okay, usually I don't write about "me". Sure, I write about things that happen to me...but usually I hope I do it where someone can go "Oh...yeah...that's happened to ME, too!" and they relate and a fairly good time is [hopefully] had by all.

Well, today is different.

Many of you out there know I have a comedy website I haven't updated in an eon plus two. Many of you out there also know that I am in an extended "pre-divorce" situation and as such I am severely depressed as I don't have: 1) Money; 2) A job; 3) Any relative I could call up and get support from; 4) My "Mummo" (what I called my mother) anymore; and 4) No health insurance as soon as I eventually get divorced. Oh...and did I mention health issues?

I usually tend to keep those to myself and my two or three chosen friends who have to endure endless crying episodes of me on the telephone and my venting and droning on and on and on about how pathetic I am and surely I am indeed a waste of skin. I'm not even a waste of "good" skin as my skin looks pretty thin and old by now and I have a sneaky suspicious feeling that I know why:

My wonky thyroid.

I tried to discount it. I tried to reason it all out. I tried to think of other reasons I have that would make my thyroid a secondary accomplice to all the perpetrators I have in my body which feel like they've gone and burglarized, ransacked and kidnapped whoever used to be IN my body. I am left with this horrible shell of who I used to be - and I don't like the "Folger's Coffee replacement" they left in my stead.

In a few words...I don't LIKE who I've become.

I have absolutely no motivation to do anything.

My hair is really thin and it looks pathetic - it's always been thin but it's even more thin and sparse, too.

I'm losing weight at an alarming rate. I'm not a big person and if I were I'm sure I'd be ecstatic about this part, but when you weigh about 120 to start with and are now at about 108 and NOTHING seems to fit...well, it's probably as bad as having a different weight issue.

I get mad at the drop of a hat. I overreact and I throw little temper tantrums...usually directed at my two kids and I hate myself for doing it.

I'm disoriented and forget things a lot. My brain's not working and of all the things I liked about myself (which weren't many), my brain was at the top of the list. Now it doesn't work. My brain doesn't work. I am crying as I type this...do you know what it's like to have your brain NOT WORK?? I don't remember things like I used to...and you take that and couple it with my neurotic tendencies (which I didn't used to have) well, my "brain case scenarios" are dire at best. I automatically think I have brain cancer, encephalitis, meningitis, brain herpes, a cerebral spinal fluid leak, dementia, Alzheimer's, specific cancers such as "tumor on my olfactory nerve", epilepsy, seizures, and just plain everyday stress-related brain issues in general.

Migraines. I've been having one a lot, especially since I got hit upside my head on the 28th of September after leaning to get out of the "blood chair". The swing arm of it wasn't all the way back and came back down and knocked me upside my head really jarring my neck and making me think I was now going to have an aneurysm in my brain. Did I mention I was on blood thinners? My little brain would bleed at the drop of a hat - and certainly at the drop of the stupid swing arm of the "blood chair". (A CT scan at the ER last week was fine. Yes, I went there as I had the most severe headache I'd ever had.)

Anxiety. I have a whole plethora of things I am anxious about. Basically dealing with my health...and being old...and having no health insurance eventually...and having no job...and wait...I told you all those things already. When your heart skips beats or goes willy-nilly-silly for a bit...and you have been diagnosed with a few things wrong with your heart - like atrial fibrillations...well, you get anxious a lot when it happens.

I'm falling asleep for no real reason other than I've been diagnosed with Sleep Apnea recently and because I didn't do my sleep study at the converted house in Wetumpka which reeked of mold and new paint...my study has apparently been put on hold. This in itself makes me even more anxious as apparently you can have all kinds of heart problems and things like strokes when you have Sleep Apnea. I never was able to go to sleep before and have had to take Ambien just to shut my brain off...so falling asleep at 9:00 p.m. vs 9:00 a.m. (like usual) is really scary.

Energy. I have none. I don't even have enough energy to type up why. Trust me...there's no energy in this body. I am the antithesis of the Energizer Bunny. I am more the Lack-of-Energy Sloth.

But the coup de gras is my wonky thyroid. My thyroidologist (yes, I made that word up) wants to obliterate my thyroid ("...like the first Mrs. Bush" he kept saying) by radioactive iodine. The otolaryngologist (no, that word I didn't make up) whom I saw in Birmingham back in February said my thyroid was "okie dokie" (perhaps not using those specific words) and didn't see any need to have it surgically removed. Then I had six fine needle aspiration biopsies there at the Kirklin Clinic and they sent me on my merry way. So, while I was sent on my merry way...I wasn't exactly merry. And I've been getting less and less merry ever since.

I feel like crap. Pure utter crap.

So...the reason behind my blog here other than releasing pent up hormones of frustration (which is probably yet another sign my thyroid is wonky)...has anyone out there been diagnosed with hyperthyroidism and dealt with it in some way? I know I can go online and read all the thyroid posts and whatnot - but it would be nicer if someone I remotely knew (even tho I don't know any of you, really) had some first-hand knowledge of it they'd like to share with me. Sharing with me via the phone...even better. Seriously, I'm getting very desperate here...I honestly would like to talk about hyperthyroidism experiences (of which there are many more than I listed here).

I really don't want to suck down some radioactive iodine...but it's looking better and better every single damn day. Especially if I can follow it with a Martini chaser.

Oh, for the days Reader's Digest would publish their "I am Joe's Spleen"...as I would rather read that (only you know..."I am Joe's Thyroid") than the wide range of scary things that come up when I type "hyperthyroidism" into that "outlined in black box" thingy known generically as the Google Search Engine.

Anyone? Please...please...please...

It's "Auld Lang Syne" Time!

It's no big news that it's New Year's Eve tonite...and that, since it's also heralding in a whole new decade, sites all over the Internet have been doing their "biggest headlines of the past ten years" stories. I swear one guy wrote this up on his little-read blog a month ago...and all the bigger entities just copied his story, changing a word or two. Internet is after all...the school bully's ultimate wimp he can target. Any blogger or reporter can just go sign on and steal an idea or two...or three...or four...hundred thousand. Ah...the days when someone had to know things and be imaginative and come up with their own words...in the order they put them in. Gone are those days I'm sure...as those "end of decade" lists all have the same things in them...

...so, naturally, I'm going to do something else...

...but...I'm going to copy off a master. ;)

I was lying in bed before I got up at much too late an hour to actually confess to...thinking about a task that has been placed upon me. My friend, Chris, who is an awesome writer (one of the best I've ever read, dammit) - has bestowed upon me a great honour...and a great burden.

He invited me to be one of ten bloggers he thinks very highly of as far as writing goes - to do a "Blog-Off" of sorts. He gives us a list of topics, one per week...each week we do a blog within the specifications of said topic...we post them up...and readers are to vote on which they like the best. This, of course means that each week...a couple will be "voted off the island"...the remainder get to write again another day - until the final winner is announced and they will have major bragging rights and a gift certificate provided by the mastermind behind all this...aka Chris.

But, while I had that dilemma looming in the back of my brain...another one zapped to the forefront: I can't leave 2009 - the whole decade...without putting up a blog about New Year's Eve (whine whine boo hoo...chalk up yet another dateless event for me)...or doing some sort of list - but that's been done too many times and who wants to read what some lonely, depressed cat-lady in an Alabama living room is thinking anyway.

So...I had an idea.

There in my depressed state I likened myself to Capra's protagonist, George Bailey, who also was pretty darned distraught...distraught enough to entertain thoughts of taking a leap to end it all...and to wish he hadn't been born at all. Now, everyone knows George, in the end, finds out that he did indeed have "a wonderful life"...and all was right in the world and Clarence got his wings.

But...how would my ordinary life...clearly not written and rewritten by Hollywood's finest...stack up against George's?

Let's find out, shall we? Just what would it have been like had I never been born?



Other than the obvious...I wouldn't have had my two children...let's take it systematically...main character by main character:

Harry Bailey: I never saved anyone from the frozen pond. I did once drive on the ice going to work...did a 180...and nearly smashed the back-end of my car into a tree...and upon realizing I was now pointed in the direction of my house and not my workplace...I decided to take it as an omen...and went back home that day. Perhaps, by not going into work...I unknowingly saved someone's life. Yes...yes, I did. I saved two people's lives actually. (Hey...I'm writing this "script" - I am allowed to have "writer's embellishment".)

Mr. Gower: We had "Mr. Bowen" as the druggist in the town I grew up in...but I never worked there - and as hard as I'm thinking...I can't see any other similarity here than their name's sounding remotely alike. But...I did once look at my son's pills in his vial when they handed them to me at the drug store...and they weren't his pills. Upon asking - the pharmacy clerk who filled it...put my son's pills in some elderly man's vial and my son ended up with his heart medication. So...there ya go! Another life saved by me! (Sssssh! You aren't supposed to point out the anachronism that my son wouldn't have been born, therefore the man wouldn't have gotten his pills anyway.)

Ma Bailey: My mother never ran a boarding house...altho when she would get frustrated she would remark, "This is NOT a restaurant I'm running here!" Now, granted my mother always said I was her guardian angel...so, I guess in a way...this also takes care of Clarence. I'd figure that my life did indeed make a difference to my mother as she would say I was the one who "kept her young". She was quite old when she had me...and kids have a way of making you run after them...and running is an aerobic activity...so, in a way, I helped my mother in that regard as well.

Violet: Let's see...I never helped a loose woman as far as I know. But when I was working at the school, after school...a woman let her daughter back out of a parking space when she didn't have her license yet...and she hooked up her right front bumper with my left back one...and she begged me not to call the police as this infraction was an automatic "can't get your license until you are 21" kind of thing. So, I ended up jumping up and down on my Volkswagen's bumper while they did the same on their car until we managed to get them loose. (For the purpose of this blog...I'm going to heretofore refer to this girl as "Violet"...I mean, I have no proof that wasn't her name anyway.) She was very appreciative and I changed her life for sure. (Again...ixnay on the anachronismway - if I wouldn't have been born she wouldn't have entangled her car in mine...I KNOW this...ssssh!)

Mary: Oh, I'm sure my husband would have loved me never being born. This is not a good character to look at from any POV...so, I'd have to write him out of the script. But, on a positive note...he would [undoubtedly] have had a wonderful life if not for me.

Okay...enough with the Capra-corn...I just got myself much more depressed and pissed off and I'm feeling like Mr. Potter right now.

But that's not the way I want to feel....so, I think I'll go sign onto Facebook to find out if I have an "Uncle Billy" out there somewhere. We can both get drunk and forget everything we did...and isn't that the way you really want to "remember" New Year's Eve, anyway?

Happy New Year, everyone!


(Chris' blog, btw, is listed as "Knucklehead!" in my sidebar to the right...seriously, he's a fantastic writer - you should check his blog out.)