I’m pretty sure this post doesn’t have a topic.

I was going to post some long winded explanation of where I’ve been these past weeks, but then I realized that it really doesn’t matter where I’ve been because nobody has really missed me.

I’m not saying that to be self-pitying or anything.   I just don’t have enough of a following to be missed.  It’s all good guys.  Because  I’m totally okay with only having two followers.  And I will never really abandon you.  Promise.

I have been working on my New Year’s Resolution, though.  You know, the one about reading 25 new books?  It will probably go down in history as the only resolution I could ever keep.  I think I’m going to make this resolution every year, because it exposes me to so much stuff.  I’m serious, guys.  I’m reading authors I never knew existed and loving every second of it.  I may even pick up a horror novel this year and then take up insomnia as a hobby because I’ll be too afraid of my own shadow to ever sleep again.

See?  Best resolution ever.

Right now  I’m halfway through Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, an autobiography of sorts.  STOP.  STOP IT RIGHT NOW.   I know I said “autobiography.”  But that doesn’t mean you get to tune out.  Listen, I hate autobiographies.  With a passion.  But this one is different.

This one is written by the same wonderfully broken person who writes The Bloggess, a ridiculously popular blog.  Go ahead.  Click the link.  Sample her work.

Now tell me: Does she seem like a boring person to you?

While reading her book, I have laughed so hard I cried.  Twice.  And I’m only halfway though.

I’ve been telling everyone about the book.  Everyone.  Except for people who are sensitive about cursing (Jenny is a very colorful individual).  I don’t tell them anything because I’m afraid they’ll go out and read the book and then judge me for liking it so much.

This morning I was telling my co-worker/supervisor all about it, and I lost her at the dreaded b-word.  You know, that same word that made you tune out a few seconds ago.  I probably don’t even have your attention now.  But that’s fine, because it just means that you don’t deserve to read such an awesome book.

Anyway, I was telling her about the book and she completely lost focus.  She couldn’t understand why I was so excited about reading a biography.  She asked why she should care about someone else’s life.   I faltered, my smile fading.  In a small voice I said, “but, it’s funny.  She’s a satire writer.  She makes fun of her own life to make people smile.”

I got a blank stare in return.

And that’s when I realized.  My co-worker wasn’t in the club.  She couldn’t possibly understand why I was so excited about this, because she had never been a misfit.

Misfits are a special type of people who are slightly different from the rest of society.  We don’t fit in well, because we think outside of the box–and sometimes we like some really strange things, or have really bizarre life circumstances.  Jenny Lawson has given us an excuse to come together to form some sort of tribe–centered on her knack for getting in hilarious situations.

My favorite writers and storytellers are all people who, after having been lonely for years, find themselves suddenly surrounded by people who celebrate all the differences that distanced others.

The reason that I love their work so much is because it gives me so much hope that humanity can be made of awesomesauce.   It also gives me hope for myself. Hope that one day, I’ll get to do something I love while being surrounded by people who love me.


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