If the Hat Fits.

Today is Steve's birthday. But I've already written about Steve. And it's Quentin's birthday. And I've already written about him. So today I'm going to write about another friend. We'll call him Brian. Because that's his name. I sat next to him on the show for two years. He was a paid writer much before me (with great credits) so where you sit has nothing to do with that. He was supportive much before he really needed to be. Back when my being single was the biggest problem in my life. Still, he understood that. And he sent me flowers when I wasn't getting them from anyone else (he's married, so it wasn't like that). And on the card, he said exactly what I wanted and needed to hear. That it would happen. Of course, he made me promise that I wouldn't tell anyone he was such a nice guy. But well, the people who are staffed on shows who would penalize him for that aren't reading this anyway, so I figure it's okay to let the cat out of the bag here.

Here's the thing about Brian. He gets nothing from me. Seriously. Absolutely nothing. No food, no flowers, no gifts, no hanky panky. He has a lovely wife who he loves. A gardener who mows his lawn (although I have offered on occasion-- I can ride a John Deere mower with the best of them and I even know how to weed). Yet, he's always been there to pick me up via email. And when I say always-- I'm talking 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005 and 2006. That's a lot of years. And even though he could have cut and pasted the exact same pep talk (given my situation hasn't improved all that dramatically), he never has. I was just reading an email he sent me on October 14, 2003 with the header, "You're going to be fine..." and seriously, the entire thing-- all three pages of it-- still applies except for maybe the part where he named a couple of people who would say they'd be proud of my "never-give-up spirit and mental toughness in pursuit of my goals." Because those couple of people didn't hang around like he did. (Although the actual couple did and I just had lunch with them. They're pretty amazing, too).

Brian has read my stories. He's read my blog-- to be honest, he's the one who suggested I start a blog. So you can either thank him or curse him for it, depending on how you feel about what I write and have to say. I thought about Brian when I was reading some comments that were left here. Comments where it seemed people didn't think I had been doing anything for the past 5 years except talking about what I was going to do. Here's the thing. I have been doing, I just haven't gotten results. So I finally just stopped talking about it.

It takes time to write. And money to live. And when working six days a week gives you neither, well you get depressed. I had no problem sucking it up for one year, two years, even three. But after that, the dark place just feels appropriate under the circumstances. Well, God bless Brian because he stuck around. He understood. And he actually believed in me even when I didn't. Read my stuff when no one else would. He never minimized what I felt and always gave me crazy, tremendous insight in his emails with a sense of humor to boot. And always made me cry. In a good way. I have absolutely no idea why he's my friend. None. He seriously deserves a medal. But until I can scrape together enough cash for one, I hope he'll accept a great big thank you on this blog.