My life in random with a little of the truth involved

Natalie, Go Blog

They let just anyone join the space program these days.

There is never an excuse for violence against police. - I’m sorry, Mr. President, but I couldn’t disagree with you more. (via coketalk)



I have tears in my eyes.

Like I don’t even think you guys understand the magnitude of this tweet. The sheer humanity of this, they are dying over there. No they are being SLAUGHTERED but they have the ability to still think to help people they have never met, people they will never meet. They understand what the people in Ferguson are going through, they see it because they are going through it too.

I’m speechless.

(Source: inlovewiththepractice, via bowiebacktobowie)

This beautiful girl starts 7th grade on Monday. Whoa.

Check it out » Robin Williams and Why Funny People Kill Themselves


Very worth your time tonight

Read it.

On Robin Williams

Last night, in the middle of the night, my little one couldn’t sleep. So I sat up with her and scrolled through the absolute astonishing reaction the world is having to the death of Robin Williams. I don’t ever remember such an overwhelming sense of togetherness over the death of an actor. And it seems silly when I really think about it. I mean, he’s a celebrity. Most of us have never come into contact with him in real life. But, man oh man, have we come in contact with his canon of work.

The movie Hook came out when I was 13. My family and I went to see it in theaters because one of my childhood friend’s brothers was playing a bit part as one of the Lost Boys. I remember being in awe that someone I knew was on the big screen. But, as I watched that movie, I found myself totally in love with Robin Williams. We watched him go from a disgruntled business man and apathetic father to what is easily one of the best retellings of Peter Pan that this world has seen. I remember not being able to comprehend why this grown man as Peter Pan didn’t seem abnormal to me in the least.

Now, as an adult, I realize that Robin Williams as Peter Pan managed to capture what all of us hope to capture in life: a sense of adventure and childishness that adulthood often strips us of. And he delivered this to us over and over again. 

When I told my children of his death, my 12-year-old was shocked and upset. We have made sure she grew up watching him on screen just as we did. Her favorite movie of his by far is Mrs. DoubtfireI asked her why she loved it so much and she said, “Because he makes me think that being a grown up, even with all the problems grown ups encounter, doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.” She asked me how he died. When I explained his battle with mental illness and his suicide, she stayed quiet for many minutes. And then she looked at me and said, “How can someone who is so funny be so sad that he does something like this?”

And that’s the question, isn’t it? That’s what we can’t comprehend. Robin Williams was THE funny man. He never failed us. And someone who brings so much laughter and joy to our lives continuously, over many many years, has simply branded himself onto our hearts. How could we not return the favor to him? How could he struggle with mental illness and addiction to the point that he believed he simply wasn’t worthy of this world, of his life, of all of our simple, blissful love?

I am a woman who suffers from mental illness. A few years ago, it enveloped me to a point that I simply could not breathe. All around me were people who loved me, supported me, adored me, praised me, and never gave up on me. And yet, I suffocated myself in my own sadness. It was the darkest time of my life. And I like to think I understand what Robin must have been feeling yesterday morning. I know that I will never know of the demons that haunted him, but I do know of my own demons. They were fierce and unforgiving. 

The funny man we love simply could not conquer his demons. They beat him. And in doing so, they stripped us all of a simple joy that we’ve taken for granted. Our movie heroes are not supposed to die. Our Peter Pan is not supposed to die. Our Genie is not supposed to die. Our Mr. Keating is not supposed to die. Our Sean Maquire is not supposed to die. Our Mrs. Doubtfire is not supposed to die. 

Our Robin Williams is not supposed to die. 

I think of his family and friends as I write this and my heart aches for them because, if we are all having this sort of reaction to his death, I cannot imagine the loss and hurt they feel. His daughter Zelda tweeted this late last night:

It’s from The Little Prince. There is another quote that speaks to me from this book:

“All grown-ups were once children… but only few of them remember it.”

Robin remembered it. And he made damned well sure we all did, as well. 

I’ve seen reports that say he has a few movies that will be coming out in the next couple of years. I truly hope that we are able to view those movies as he intended, with joy and giggles and silliness and hope. 

Robin, you were a light when there was none. You were a laughter when we needed to be reminded of how freeing laughter can be. You were a reminder of the goodness that can emanate from the least likely of places. You, kind man, were our family. And we just aren’t willing to let you go. Thank you for leaving us with something to hold on to, something to share with others, something that can’t be taken away from us as you have been taken away from us.

I hope you are seeing and hearing the world’s reaction. YOU  gave us so much. 

Thank you, Robin. Thank you.


robin williams died today.

here is a list of things that robin williams was:

  • funny
  • sharp
  • kind
  • clever
  • and sad.

that’s important, the “and sad,” because sometimes sadness can feel like the only thing we are. it can feel all-encompassing. it can feel like the only thing anyone could possibly see, when they look at you: sad. that person is so, so, sad.

but there is always an “and.” we are never just sad. we are never only. we are always and.

we have all known people who were sad, who are sad; some of us are ourselves sad. being sad does not remove the other parts of us, though it can make them harder for us to see. when you are sad, you don’t necessarily feel like you are also funny, and sharp, and clever, and kind.

but you still are. you don’t have to feel like something to be it.

those things are written on your bones, they are woven into the fabric of your skin. sadness can feel so big, so big and overwhelming and complete, even when it is not a directed sadness. maybe especially when it is not a directed sadness, when it’s a depression that has no direct cause and nothing we can name.

sometimes the sadness is too big. people try to cut it out, or starve it out, or drink it down, or drug it silent. if this is you: i’m sorry. if this is you: you are not alone. if this is you: remember that the solution is never to give up, because you do not live in a vacuum. there are people waiting for you. there are films and songs and books and not-sadness waiting for you. i know that you don’t feel like waiting, but wait anyway.

if you need help, ask for it. here’s a link to crisis centers across the globe. if you live in the U.S., this is the national suicide prevention hotline: 1-800-273-8255.

robin williams died today, but the genie didn’t, and mrs. doubtfire didn’t, and peter pan didn’t. sean maquite didn’t, and professor philip brainard didn’t, and alan parrish didn’t. batty koda didn’t. john keating didn’t. you didn’t. 


(via iamsaturdayschild)