I haven’t been blogging as often as I mean to.

It’s not you-it’s me.

BELIEVE ME, I think about you. I really do. All of you out there, glancing over here for some author inspiration or maybe to find out whatever new thing I’ve done to Batman to possibly jeopardize our relationship. I haven’t dropped any food lately, but we have been battling for the remote and possession of the new couch, which, in this household, means war.

The reason for this post (besides my dad reminding me that I haven’t posted anything for a while) is that I wanted to quickly share how this week has been going:

It’s sort of sucked.

Especially Monday.

I’ve never been one to get attached to celebrities. They’re like, good looking people on the big box that sits in the middle of the living room and occasionally, one or two make me laugh. Depending on what’s on. When Michael Jackson passed in 2009 and then Philip Seymour Hoffman just this past year, my first thoughts were selfish. I never got to see the king of pop grab his junk. And WHO’S going to play Plutarch in the last two Hunger Game movies? When I heard about Maya Angelou, I felt a little something because I really enjoyed I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I didn’t know a lot about her, but I believed in her optimism and views on life. This past Monday, when we discovered that Robin Williams was no longer with us… I just… I don’t know.

It really affected me.

Maybe it’s because I grew up with Robin Williams. A kid of the nineties, he was the energetic Genie, the crazed Jumanji jungle-man, a grown up Peter Pan, a cross-dressing nanny and my personal favorite, the English teacher who taught us to stand on the desk to view the world differently; the professor who taught us the value of words and to Carpe Diem. Seize the day. These were all just characters – imaginary people that don’t really exist, that aren’t out there in the world – but to me, and perhaps several others, they’re as real as you and me. They exist because we believe in them, because Robin Williams breathed life into them. And they’re some of our favorite people.

I never knew or met Robin Williams, and I’m saddened by that fact. But what fills me with even more sorrow is how he left this world. It always surprises me when people with the brightest lights are closeted by constant darkness. It’s not the first time (and will probably not be the last) that the seemingly happiest, most optimistic spirits are suffering the most. And I don’t understand it.

I’ve never personally encountered depression but I’ve known some who have. I’ll say it again – I don’t understand it. I guess that makes me lucky. Or blessed, I suppose. I just wish people would realize they’re not alone. There is ALWAYS help available. Suicide hotlines. Counseling groups. Best friends. Ice cream. Whatever. I repeat – there is ALWAYS help. Always. Always. Always.

Always.

I’m really sad about this. Like truly, upset and affected that this happened.I know a lot of you are too. And I know there’s nothing we can do about it now except support all of our loved ones. Hug them. Share a laugh. Tell them how glad you are that they’re in your life. It might just be what they need.

And to Robin, wherever you are, you brought such joy to the world that I know we will feel its absence for a long time to come. Thank you for the countless hours of laughter. Thank you for the inspiration. And thank you for being you, a genuine and magnificent spirit that shared your gift with us.

*stands on desk*

Oh Captain, My Captain.

Oh Captain, My Captain.