I told my dad I was going to write this post and he was all, “I wouldn’t do that.”
OF COURSE YOU WOULDN’T, Dad. You wouldn’t do ANYTHING online. YOU HATE THE INTERWEBS.
(Dad thinks “I wouldn’t do that” is funny and says it a lot about many things. Pretty much the only things he would do that I do are work, sleep, eat, and watch television, but not the particular shows I watch.)
This is a very prestigious day in Amy-land, and in Lucy’s Football-land. Therefore, it gets a whole post ALL UNTO ITSELF.
I was thinking the other day, I’m pretty sure November’s an important month, but I can’t figure out what DAY, exactly, is the important DAY in November. But THEN I was talking to sj (it was sj’s bloggiversary the other day, HAPPY BLOGGIVERSARY MY SJ!!!) and realized that, by searching through old blog comments, you could figure out when exactly you started talking to someone, and therefore you could figure out WHAT DAY YOU FIRST MET THEM.
So therefore using this logic I figured out my sjversary is February 25. I told her I was expecting roses.
So, I did some investigative research, and it actually ended up that my timing could not have been better, because I did the search on the 12th, and the day I was looking for was the THIRTEENTH. If I had waited just ONE DAY TO DO THIS, I would have been too late.
I like anniversaries. I like to know when things happened and to celebrate accordingly. I like to look back on the time that has passed between THEN and NOW and think, huh, a whole year has passed, isn’t that something?
So. Here is a story. Ready?
Once upon a year ago today, in a kingdom nowhere near the sea, lived a blogger named Amy. Amy the blogger didn’t (doesn’t) have any idea what she was doing, but she had many lovely readers and wrote posts that seemed to be received well and she was having a hell of a time and people seemed to be laughing at what she wrote so that was nice.
One day, her Twitter friend Lisa, one of the funiest humans she knows virtually, inspired her to write a post about how to not be an asshat on Twitter.
Now, this is a very funny post. The blogger named Amy just re-read it and laughed all over again. Someday the blogger named Amy hopes she will regain her mental stability enough to be that funny again, or at least the free time to THINK of things that are that funny again. She holds out hope that she will.
Anyway, the post is not the point. (Although if you haven’t read it, the blogger named Amy totally still stands by that advice. It’s still sound advice.)
One year ago today, from what the blogger named Amy can tell based on VERY scientific research, is the day that two people who have become two of her most nearest and dearest friends in the entire world first commented on her blog, which, in that magic way that sometimes happened, led to them talking more and more and the rest, as they say, is HISTORY.
Now, these two people (I think, it’s not like Twitter keeps track of such things) were her friends on Twitter before they started reading her blog and commenting therein. Thereon? There. Commenting THERE. Anyway. From what the blogger named Amy can remember, she became friends with these people around this time on Twitter, so the date might not be EXACT, but since this is an actual date she can pin down, and it just happens it seems to be the EXACT FIRST TIME that BOTH of them commented (what are the odds that the two of them would comment on the same day? Huh) then this is the day we’re celebrating.
One year ago today?
Andreas and Ken day.
IT IS MY ANDREASVERSARY AND MY KENNIVERSARY.
Shut up, I’m totally sentimental, when I realized that it made me all KINDS of weepy.
Now you can tune out if you want to, but this is a VERY important day, so I’m totally going to sap it all up in this joint about the two of them, so if you don’t like to get the sappy all over you (YES that is probably a EUPHEMISM) then you can come back tomorrow, we’re talking about…um, wait, let me see…awards and cats and work, I think.
But right now, we’re sappin’ it up. So let’s sap it.
I’m starting with Andreas. He commented first.
Andreas is wonderful and one of the most intelligent people I know and funny and kind and caring and considerate and he SAYS he hates people but for someone that hates people he really is very good with them. (I don’t know if he so much hates people. He just, like me, has very little time or energy for stupidity. I can appreciate that.)
I liked Andreas from the beginning, which I think would surprise him, because, much like me, he doesn’t immediately assume people will dig him. I liked how he spoke very intelligently and I liked how he would think about things before replying and I liked that he always knew (KNOWS) the answers to things, but is never rude about telling them to you. He’s always very kind about telling you things, even when I’m sure he’s thinking “man, THAT’S a stupid question.”
Andreas is a scientist. How many scientists do you know? Probably not very many. He’s not currently PRACTICING science, but I don’t think you just STOP being a scientist. Also, randomly, I will find out amazing things about him, like he one time discovered a new species and then got to name it, or spent time in…now I’ve forgotten, Andreas, was it the Amazon or something? Bolivia? Something exciting like that. And he just throws it in there. “Oh, yes, that year I spent in Bolivia…”
Andreas has lived eleventy-billion lives and he’s only barely older than I am. I find that utterly fascinating.
Andreas, when I met him, was living on the Isle of Man, but somehow I got in my head that he lived in Finland (he probably said he was Finnish somewhere and so I used my Jumping to Conclusions mat, I do that a lot) and so for the longest time I told everyone I had this new friend in Finland, but then he said he lived on the Isle of Man so when I told Dad that, he decided Andreas he was a spy and he was lying about where he lived and WHAT ELSE MIGHT HE BE LYING ABOUT. (He has since started to grudgingly trust “the spy” which makes me happy.)
Then Andreas moved BACK to Finland so I could OFFICIALLY say I had a friend in Finland.
Andreas has a lovely fianceé and two beautiful children and he lives on an island and he has a fancy job where they give him ice cream on Fridays and sometimes they fly him to Helsinki and he promises to send me photos so I can see Helsinki because I love to vicariously bon vivant with my people. He also said I could come live on his couch if Romney won and I don’t even think he was kidding. And he wants me to move to Scandinavia, which I will never do, but is that the nicest thing you’ve ever heard? Someone who wants you to move across the world so you will live closer to them? Yes. And he sends me email that makes me smile and he used to have Klout in typos and he only minded a LITTLE bit if I picked on him about that and he writes one of the most intelligent blogs you’ve ever read in your life.
Also, he is very handsome and has a wonderful smile. Sorry, Andreas, I’m stealing this from you, people need to see your handsome mug.
And he is my Science Fellow. And he always answers my science questions and he comments on my blog and his comments make me smile every single time.
And before a year ago, I didn’t even know him, and that makes me both sad and happy; sad that I haven’t known him longer, and happy that I know him now and get to know him for the rest of my life. (Oh. Sorry, Andreas, you’re stuck with me now. Hope that’s peachy with you.)
Andreas is one of my most favorite people. Happy Andreasversary to you, Andreas! Thank you for commenting on my blog which led to me reading YOUR blog and then the magic of friendship happened. If you weren’t here, I don’t know what I would do. My life is meant to be lived with you in it.
Now let’s talk about Ken. It’s Ken’s day, too, you know. Who could forget about Ken? Certainly not me.
I’ve mentioned before, I didn’t WANT to be friends with Ken. Ken was the tea-guy and Ken was the jaunt-off-around-the-world guy and what the hell was I going to talk to THIS guy about, anyway? But, sometimes, people surprise you. That’s the best kind of surprise.
Ken is my secret sibling. I could probably end this post with this sentence and it really would totally sum up the past year of knowing Ken, but since when have I ever quit while I’m ahead? I have all these WORDS in my BRAIN and they have to get OUT.
However, for all the words I have in my brain, I don’t know that I have the words to talk about Ken. Well, not and do him any justice. There aren’t words that can describe Ken. Ken is…Ken. Ken is secret sibling. That’s all. Well, no. That’s not ALL. That’s…a lot. That’s more than a lot.
Luckily, I have permission to steal from Ken. This is EXCITED Ken. I assume he’s excited it’s his Kenniversary.
What can you say about someone like Ken? I don’t even know where to begin.
Ken is one of the greatest writers I know. Without the slightest bit of hyperbole or exaggeration or any of those fancy vocabulary words I like so much. Ken uses words like great artists use paint or musicians use instruments or actors use their voices and their bodies. And the best part is? HE HAS NO IDEA HE’S THIS GOOD. No, I’m very serious. He really doesn’t. Every time I tell him he’s just so pleased. And then he tells me it’s just because I’m biased. (And he’s always saying how he’s not so humble but that’s a total lie.)
Ken can, I’m quite sure, do absolutely anything, if he decides he wants to do it. He is a wonderful musician and photographer; I’m fairly sure, if he decided tomorrow he was going to start carving a life-size statue or something, it would be kind of the most brilliant thing. They have a name for that, right? Renaissance man. I think Ken might be one of the last remaining Renaissance men.
One time Ken went to the zoo and made a lion-face. HE MADE A LION-FACE. Is there much better than this? I don’t think there is.
Ken is the kind of person who, if you email him what you THINK is a completely off-the-wall scheme, will respond with, “ok. Yes. Absolutely. Let’s do that.” AND HE MEANS IT. He thinks about everything he does. This is what makes him the best bon vivant; everything is an adventure with him. He’s got the best sense of childlike wonder I’ve ever encountered in an adult. It makes you just utterly gleeful. It makes you proud to know him. It makes you proud that he chose you to know.
Ken has also lived a million lives before the one he’s living now. He’s like a puzzle box and he’s like an apothecary chest and there’s always something else opening and there’s always something more coming out. He’s like a book you’ve never read and more and more and more story keeps adding to the story you already know making the current story richer and better and what’s best is, I’m quite sure the story doesn’t end. And it’s the best book ever.
Ken and I are quite sure we’re secretly related; we find a million things all the time that are kind of spookily similar and it’s always one of those “oh, well, holy shit” moments, or, at least it WAS, for a while, but now it’s just become kind of one of those things. Like, “oh, well, of COURSE Ken’s always done this one thing and I have too. Because, well, secret siblings.” But it always gives me that happy chest-thrill. I’ve always wanted a secret sibling. And now I have the best one ever, so sometimes you DO get what you want, you know?
Ken makes me laugh until I cry and sometimes just cry until I cry and challenges me to think about things that I’ve never thought about before and listen to music that I didn’t know existed and shows me cities I never thought I’d get to see and he is THOUGHTFUL and he is KIND and he is GOOD and he is INTELLIGENT and he is one of the bravest people I know and he deserves every single happiness in the world and he is of the goats and he knows about euphemisms and he knows when I need things before I even know I need them and he understands that you can’t carry things alone and he got me through tax season last year by being the most supportive human being alive and he was the first person to email me after I got fired telling me everything was going to be alright and I am so, so blessed to have him in my life.
Haven’t we had a year, Ken? We so have.
And the winner of Amy’s favorite Ken-photo ever is: this one. And listen. LISTEN. There are a LOT of them. Like, I’m not even exaggerating when I say there might be thousands. This one makes me happier than happy.
And here’s the thing: I could have missed him. I could have just decided, no. No, I don’t think I’ll spend the time necessary to get to know this person; I have a lot going on in my life, and, as mentioned, what could I possibly have in common with this person? Nothing. Or, even MORE horrifying: he could have not liked me at ALL. There might not have been that click and we’d just have gone our separate ways. That happens, too, you know. It’s not like you’re best of friends with everyone you meet online. That’s not how online works.
And that makes me sad, and also makes me think that maybe, just maybe there is a plan at work in the world that we are not privy to, and why would we be, because we are small, and we are insignificant, because what are the odds, in all the world (no, most sincerely, Ken’s just about on the opposite side of things), that I would somehow find my secret sibling all that way away? Without a little push? Without a little bit of help?
A year ago, I didn’t know these two people; a year ago, if you had said either of these names to me, I would have just shaken my head with a blank look in my eyes, because they’d have been strangers to me.
Now: well, now. I have my Andreas, and I have my Ken. And I am a very lucky woman. And (shh, you thought that was squishy? Look away now, then) I just love these two men so much. They are so, so special to me. They make every single day better, just having them there, just knowing they’re there, and that they get me.
Here’s to many more November 13ths, guys. Here’s to a whole lifetime of them. Someday, how about we do this friendship-thing in person, yeah? I’d like that. I’d like that a lot. Let’s do some real-life bon vivantery one of these days before we become too old for it and we have to do it from Hoverounds or in walkers or something.
Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I say often I have the best friends in the world. Here’s the proof.
I’m not ever letting either of you go now. Just prepare yourselves, ok? Good. Good, good.
(Title is from Jim Henson; I discovered it about six months ago, and ferreted it away like a shiny thing and saved it for today. True story.)