Derpin' hard or hardly derpin'.

I recently tried to take a selfie. It didn't work out well for me.

I mean, I'm not a classic beauty, but I'm not a toad either. I'd say I'm right smack in the middle of average. If I apply a little effort and an ungodly amount of cosmetics (not tested on animals), I even think I look quite foxy. Then I get a little cocky, and think, “The world needs to know how damn good I look today.”

And then it happens. I take the selfie and every single one looks like I'm about to sneeze or have just been goosed. What is that crap? I'm over here looking adorable, but all I can come up with is some kind of horrid school photo quality selfie. All I need is that weird blue and purple hazy background and you wouldn't know the difference.

I derp hard. If only the word “derp” were around when I was growing up...

Well, it's actually probably a good thing it wasn't or I'd have been the ermahgerd girl. 

You know, if I really think about it, that's not true either. Like I said, I'm smack in the middle of average. Always have been. I wasn't derpy enough to be a meme (hahah like those were around then lol) and not popular enough to be noticed. I tended to hover just out of the way, in the shadows of the recesses of teenagerness. In some kind of popularity limbo. I was always trying to make my way up and out, but only until I got my shit together and realized I was in the best place ever. Where else can you judge the entirety of man, but back in the corner where you can see everyone?

So, I wouldn't have been a meme. That's a little depressing in itself, but not really. And as for those defunct selfies, I figure those are the faces you get when you talk to me, so what the hell. I mean, it's not like I hide the derpy faces when I'm around people. I let my derp flag fly! I feel like Chris Farley, 

and have been told not to make myself ugly. Meh, it is what it is. I'm doing the best with what I've got. This is the part where you think of Anne Hathaway in The Princess Diaries where she looks in the mirror pre-princess, and says, “This is as good as it's gonna get.” 

And it for real is. Besides, I don't think funny people are supposed to be the uber pretty ones, it just wouldn't be fair to every one else.

By the way, popular kid, I saw you pick your nose. You didn't think I noticed, but I did.

O Captain, my captain.

I'm angry. And sad. And on the verge of tears. Seriously. Robin Williams has committed suicide. It's terrible news, folks. Celebrities die all the time, but some how, for my generation, this is our first real big guy to go. He was in our children's movies. We thought he was just the funniest thing ever! I remember watching an interview thing on tv with Robin Williams and John Travolta about the movie Wild Hogs. The interviewer asked Robin what it was like to work with a great actor like Travolta. I was like, excuse me, kid. Robin Williams is WAY better than creepy ole Travolta. Totally. I was actually mad at that poor little interviewer. lol.

So, I've seen people saying things like "I don't get it" and "Why would he do this" or "But he was so funny". I'd like to address these things. I certainly don't know Robin  Williams, but I know his ailment. If you've never been depressed, you can't possibly know what it's like to feel like that. No, you can't. Normal people get sad or even FEEL depressed, but that doesn't mean they have depression. The difference is that those of us who suffer from clinical depression can't just "snap out of it" or "cheer up" or even "fix what's wrong". Most of the time, nothing's wrong. Or everything's wrong. But when someone thinks of taking their own life, it's often the only way they can see out. It's not a selfish act. It's not about other people. It's about life. About not being able to see that there is a life in front of you. All those things people tell you you have to live for are just more things you feel bad about. They're just more things you're screwing up or not doing right. You feel like people would really be better off without you because you honestly cannot see the good. Good doesn't even register. Winston Churchill called it his "big black dog" that followed him around. It's accurate. J.K. Rowling used her experiences with depression to influence the dementors. All I can think of is Ron Weasley's comment that he felt like he'd never be cheerful again. And it's true. I think of it as a big pit. A giant hole, and when you're in the pit, you can't see a way out, or how you'll ever feel anything but that gut wrenching emptiness, guilt, and pain. And you know, sometimes, the funniest people are the most messed up. Look at me, I'm freaking hilarious. And messed up as heck. I think it's the depression lens that you see through that makes it so you can view the world in that funny and yet depressing way that is so common.

Now that I've cleared that up, I'd like to say how angry this makes me. It feels personal. Not like it was about me, but it hit me in a personal way. I've been thinking of Ernest Hemingway as my personal and professional hero for a really long time now, and I've just now gotten over the romance of living hard and fast. Living for the experience. I mean, I'd still rather regret the things I've done than the missed experiences, but I don't want to just do everything I want until I can't deal with it anymore. That was a huge thing for me. HUGE! And now, at about the same age, and able to grow the same beard, someone else I held in esteem has taken this way out. No, it's not the easy way out. I would argue it's the hardest way there is. I just wish someone would have been able to help him. I wish that he would have been able to see how much it was worth it, how much his work and his life meant to so many people. Now we're left with a deficit. One of the truly funny, not just crass people in the world has left it. Imagine what he'd have had to say about getting old.

So I'm going to watch some of his movies and wish him safe travels into the afterlife. May he still be making them laugh.

Short Story- Somehow It Was All Beautiful

Today I walked out into the tiny village in which I live. The work day had only just begun for the shop keepers on the main street. It was all of ten A.M., for, you see, things move more slowly here in Turkiye than in many other parts of the world.

Living in Turkey has ben like living on a completely different planet. Live moves along at its own pace here. The shops open whenever they please, which is why, at the not-so-early hour of ten, I was witness to the opening rituals of my village.

Normally, the dust and disorder seem to grate against my nerves, turning me vehemently against this friendly and haphazardly cohesive culture. But today. For some reason, today was different. The sky was brighter. The air was cleaner. It was all really quite charming.

This tiny street in this tiny village has been puzzle pieced together for at least the past twenty years. The result being that the sidewalk is not a sidewalk in the strictest sense of the word. In reality, it is simply a pathway made of a myriad of paving materials including, what I am almost certain is kitchen tile. It is all in varying heights, widths, and states of disrepair.

This morning, as I set out on the important task of checking for new movies and procuring lunch from my favorite doner shop, I owned the street. There were no men out to call, "Abla, you need carpet/haircut/watch?" The shop keepers were occupied with hosing down their bit of the sidewalk or sweeping out their store fronts. The old men were sitting down to tea on the tables set on the side of the street. So relaxed, in fact, is the attitude of my street, for it has become MY street, that the men leave their shops, wide open, to go and sit down for their tea.

And it was today, as I walked around the parked cars so as to not disrupt this most inane yet sacred of rituals, that I saw the beauty inherent in the simple. Today, I saw the little old man who makes the doners. I saw  him ready his knives, saw his skill with the meat on the spit, saw how things are done here. This man is always assisted by a young boy whom I can only assume is a relative, as nepotism seems to be the rule here rather than the exception. This man - these people - take pride in their work and the simplicity of life. As well they should, because today it was beautiful.

My, that antidepressant sure looks nice.

You ever get depressed? Happened to me. Like when I was a kid. I'm on medication though, so I'm better.

Then some of my friends who are, if you can believe it, bigger hippies that I am started talking about how they got off antidepressants after like seventeen years. I was like, WTF? You can do that? I'm gonna do that!!! Because, you guys know, I can

So, after much research on Dr. Google and talking to my therapist who by the way was not so much with the on board thing, I decided I can do it!

Except that then I discovered the true depth of my disease and decided, eh, maybe not.

And it's a good thing too because then shit got real. Like really real. I sort of lost my shit. So, that's not happening. I'm working on it. It's a journey, but I've definitely decided that those antidepressants sure do look nice.

Catching up with the synapses

I've really needed to blog for a while. I've been having really weird thought and super trippy dreams. We're talking Lucy in the sky with Walter bishop trippy. So, I bequeath to you a sampling of gems from the past time period.

I noticed that all old people everywhere look like old people. Like no matter where you're from, you're going to end up looking like a gnarly apple when you get old.

Dogs don't like taking selfies.

Neither do cats

I was in a play. It was a great experience and super fun. However, it's not something that I'll be doing again. It made me bat crap crazy! Between having real kids and pretend kids, I almost lost my crap. The good news though? I totally looked like mrs. Patmore.

I swear there was more and you all were going to love it, but it seems I'm old and so I can no longer remember the dumb things I was gonna talk about.

On another note, I deduced the crap out of someone based solely on the knot of his scarf. If by deduce, you mean I could tell he has a Pinterest account because I've seen that knot zillions of time on there, then get me a Watson cause I'm amazing! 

iChildren

The boy is a big fan of Xbox. And by big, I mean that he'll throw a freaking fit if he doesn't get to play every single day. It's like Dudley freaking Dursley up in here. But recently he's been talking to this one kid who sounds like a kid. Either that or a foreigner or a munchkin from The Wizard of Oz. But this kid, we'll call him Gamertag, talks to other punk ass kids/teens in their nerdy little xbox Live parties.

One day these punks said something to The Boy like that he was a baby or something. He comes running in crying because these kids are picking on him. A few things popped into my head at this. 

1. Punk ass punks need to check themselves before I wreck themselves.

2. That's life, son. People suck. Learn to deal.

3. Oh god, life is so weird with internet kids.

Seriously, why is there not a guide book for what to do when your seven year old learns about talking to other people on the xbox? Internet exposure has seriously screwed up my parenting style. Though to be fair my style is more of a rough guideline than anything. 

I've noticed while living here in turkey that being unplugged is relaxing. I don't own a cell phone right now. And strangely enough, it's freeing. I'm not worrying about talking to this person or that person. I'm not being constantly bombarded by texts and information and crap. I can just be in the moment. Now if only I could get my kid to unplug and get in the moment.

Things I've learned in therapy.

So, we're getting ready to move to Germany in... roughly the time it takes an adult female human to gestate a tiny human. My therapist has had much to say on this topic. You see, much like crotchety old men and people with certain disorders and stuff, I don't dig change. When we moved here I immediately spiraled rapidly out of control so badly in fact, that I'm only now back on track after what? One year and a few months. No big right? Totes cool? Nope. Not remotely. It was a circle of Hell I wouldn't wish on Nancy Pelosi.

Anyway, my therapist gave me some homework. Hey, she knows who she's dealing with here. She wanted me to make a list of the most important things I've learned here. In regards to dealing with bouts of crippling depression and super spazzified anxiety episodes. So, I thought I'd share some of these gems with you. I went to Jared.

Ah hem...

I have learned while here that I don't react well to change. It makes me wonky. But the important part to remember is that sometimes it's okay to be wonky. You don't have to totally freak out because you'll never be happy again and the world is worthless and there's no point in living in a world if this is all you have to look forward to and blah blah blah... Emotions ebb and flow and that's all right.

I've learned that I'm worth a damn.

I've always had abominable self esteem, and it turns out that most of my problems stem from me not thinking I'm worth it. Like a make up commercial. I still don't wear make up or whatever but I'm starting to really feel like I deserve good things. I deserve to do something good for me. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have the great relationship I have with my husband. I deserve way more hugs and kisses and gratitude than I get from these little freeloaders I couldn't live without. I deserve to be successful and I deserve to be...

And dangit, people like me. Just last night I found out that an acquaintance of mine, when trying to figure out who I was knew me by the description "the squeaky one". Thanks for that hubster. Anyway, it turns out, she loves me. When I'm all like "Let's do this!!!" She's all like "Yeah, now I really want to do this." And while that might just be a goofy little thing, it meant a heap of a lot that someone I barely know thinks something nice about me. It's really hard to get out of thinking that you're just a giant hunk of crap, and sometimes it's nice to just get that little boost along you know.

Another thing I've learned is something I picked up a long time ago from a kung fu master I was familiar with. I've always thought it was terribly clever, but never applied it to my life.

And it's truth. It's one of the truthiest truths of any truth that ever truthed. Mindfulness. It's a psychobabble term as well as an easterny philosophy. They're a bit different, but essentially the same. Live in the now. Take the time now. Don't spend today worrying about yesterday or tomorrow. You'll tell yourself, I'll deal with life tomorrow, but there's always another tomorrow and another tomorrow and another tomorrow. Which ironically is the day I plan to go to the gym... Regardless. Just be present. Accept what is around you. It's like the serenity prayer or the beatles song. Do what you can with what you've got and the let the rest go. You are only human. I am only human, and as such, can only do so much. I can't change the weather, speed up the harvest, or teleport you off this rock. But I can do something about some things.

I learned that to be happy is not to be manic. To be happy is merely to be content. Let me say that again.

To be happy is merely to be content.

Those people who walk around constantly smiling and bubbly, they're medicated. Seriously. In some of my worst times, people would tell me how bubbly and outgoing I was and I'd be like WTF?!? Sometimes the façade is cheery but the inside is melting away. I used to wonder why I couldn't be like those people, you know the ones who have their shit together. They're all "I'm fantastic" and I'm all like "I hate you. Why are you so perfect? Why can't I be like you?" Which I guess leads us into another thing I've learned and that's to not compare yourself with anyone else. We're all messed up in some way, shape, or form. We've all got something. That perfect mom, she lost a baby. That cheery kid, she wants to waste away and die. That skinny girl, she just threw up a hamburger because her dad called her fat. And maybe not all that extreme, but everybody's got something. The point is that when you realize that you are you, it frees you up to, back to my first point, be content with your lot. Just be content with it all. I can't change my circumstances, so I accept them. That was such a freeing revelation. The entire world is not my problem. I'm not responsible for the manic happiness and wellbeing of every entity on this damn rock. I'm responsible for me. I'm responsible for how I feel. I can't do a damn thing about a lot of things, but I can change how I feel about them. And how I feel about them is content. I just let the things be what they will. It only makes me crazy and cuts weeks off the end of my life, so just chill.

I've learned a great deal about love also. Not like whoooo romantic love. Friendship type love. Love your friends. If you love/appreciate someone, let them know. Just be kind. Be a good person. Believe in something. Love someone. Those are important things. If you can do something nice for someone, do it. It doesn't hurt you at all to check on a friend or to say thank you or to just hug someone. And it certainly won't kill you to look a service worker of any kind square in the eye and say thank you. Be one with your fellow man. After all, once you skin us, we're all the same.