Keeping the Faith?

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Guess who’s back? (Tell a friend, tell a friend, tell a friend.)

I’ve been gone for what feels like forever and I feel totally guilty about it. Suffice it to say that there has been a lot going on in my life lately. This past weekend was the first one I’ve had with no obligations since…. mid-May, I think? Possibly even April.

And of course during that first free weekend we lost power.

If it makes you hate me less, please know that I thought of you often. I even sat down once to write something, only to discover that Frank was having some WordPress issues and I couldn’t see anything I was typing. It was 3 a.m. I was tired. I gave up and went to sleep.

I hope you’ll forgive me and continue to come here and read our posts. Although things are not yet totally settled for me and there could be some more major shaking coming up soon, I’m going to do my best to update regularly again (also, Frank has at least three book reviews he wants to do because his face is sick of sitting in a drawer). And I also hope that you will stick with me as I ease my way back into writing here.

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Frank Reviews: Diary of a Mad Fat Girl by Stephanie McAfee

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If I’m in a bookstore and the words “Fat Girl” are printed on the cover of anything, I’m going to take a personal interest. That’s how I found myself picking up Stephanie McAfee’s New York Times Best Seller, Diary of a Mad Fat Girl.

I was still reading One Day when Frank was consuming this one. For the record, just about the only things I do these days are reading and writing.

If you’re new to this blog, Frank is a dino sock puppet who enjoys filming his book reviews. That’s all well and good, but something weird almost always happens (and also… thanks for stopping by!).

With that in mind, I’m going to let Frank do his thing here. Then I’ll be back to do mine. This also seems like a good time to tell you that if it doesn’t make any sense at all, I have a good reason: I’ve been up since 7:15 a.m., it’s 2:40 a.m. as I write this, and I only slept for not quite four hours last night. SO…

Take it away, Frankie, baby…

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On a More Serious Note…

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Fear not, because there’s going to be another ridiculous video of Frank reviewing another book in a day or so (it’s recorded but needs the post), but for today I’d like to talk about something serious.

It’s Mental Health Awareness Month.

I’ve been thinking about how I should approach this topic here, and in the end, I think I’ve figured out the best way for me to do it.

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Frank Reads: One Day by David Nicholls

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Frank finally carved some time out of his busy schedule last week to record his thoughts on One Day by David Nicholls. I’ve not had time to manage his YouTube uploads, so here we are the following week.

I know what you’re thinking. “Seriously, Frank/Renee? One Day?”

Hey, I know, man. I thought that too. But I was pleasantly surprised with the book. I haven’t seen the movie, though. Maybe one day.

(See what I did there?)

So I’ll let Frank take over for a few minutes to let you know what he thought, then I’ll come back and add my own assessment. Also, before I forget, Frank asked me to tell you all that he apologizes that his accent started to slip a little in the middle of this production. He has been “spending too much time with Americans.”

Also, he apologizes for the times when his head is way up, almost out of the frame. We recorded on an actual camera this time instead of ye olde webcam.

Special thanks to my friend Amy who found that sweet Remington Rand Model Seventeen in her attic and gave it to me.

Over to you, Frank…

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An Open Note to Mother Nature, RE: Snow in April

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Dear Mother Nature,

I woke up today to discover that Facebook was flipping out over some snow that we in western and western-central Pennsylvania are supposed to get between tonight and tomorrow night. I figured it was just people being dramatic about some flurries, but no.

No, Mother Nature, it looks like you’re sending us some actual snow. More snow than we saw all winter long. In fact, in my particular neck of the woods, we could see anywhere from 5-10 inches.

Now I’m not going to lie to you. The prospect of losing power and being forced to lie on the couch or in my bed reading all day is really tempting. My blood pressure would certainly be grateful. Then I think about the anxiety that I will experience as a result of having to make up all of that work, and my chest starts to hurt.

You know how I feel about shoes, too. I hate them. I don’t like things covering my feet, which is why my flip-flop season begins in February and ends in the beginning of December. This also provides me with excuses to get pedicures. I was going to get one this week. I’m sure it will look great in my snow boots.

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No, It’s True. I’m Actually That Neurotic: Vol. 1

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You know those things that make you incredibly anxious, although you aren’t totally sure why? Maybe you don’t. Maybe it’s just me and my awesome trifecta of depression, anxiety, and OCD. Anyway, I sometimes find myself having weird thoughts or reactions to certain information or events. And a lot of times, when I can step outside myself for a minute, it’s funny.

Funny in that “Drop-your-shoulders-sigh-give-half-a-chuckle-and-shake-your-head” kind of way.

It’s like that thing Phil Collins said. S-s-sudio. I don’t care anymore.

I figure that I might as well just start embracing it, you know?

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Dino Jams: The ‘Wait, That’s Catchy!’ Edition

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First off, Frank wanted me to tell you thanks for checking out his video book review in the last post.

(We’ll pretend that I am not speaking about myself in the third person, k?)

I think this is the best assessment of Frank’s accent at the time of this writing, and it comes from my friend Jim: “Your accent sounds like if Bjork did an impression of The Count.”

I also want to take this opportunity to tell you, oh loyal Frankophiles, that my ability to update this blog regularly over the next few weeks may or may not be impacted by another new career move. As I figure my schedule out, I will work hard to give you a weekly dose of something here. And don’t worry — it’ll probably continue to be weird. I’m going to start a [hopefully humorous] series, possibly called “Why Am I So Neurotic?!”  — you’ll just have to wait until you see it.

So anyway, Mondays are a bummer. I’ve got a bit of a #MusicMonday for you, but in the spirit of Frankasaurus, I’m calling it Dino Jams. These are my five picks, upbeat and current (though not all necessarily mainstream) and I think they’re rather catchy. They’ve been helping me get pumped and shake off any bad moods.

1-2-3-HIT IT!

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Frank Reads: 11/22/63 by Stephen King

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When I heard that Stephen King was coming out with a book called 11/22/63, my heart jumped for joy. In case you aren’t aware, I am fascinated with the Kennedys, but the uncertainty over the assassination is what most piques my interest.

When I read the premise, I was even more excited. You know who was tasked with preventing Kennedy from dying? An English teacher! In case you aren’t aware, I used to be an English teacher.

On Christmas morning I unwrapped this massive 850-pager, much to my delight, and started reading it somewhere around January 2nd. I just finished it last week. Slow reader, yes, but there was also about a month and a half when I barely read at all because my employment situation kind of exploded.

Just to warn you, this post is about to get really weird. Why? Because you’re about to watch a video of a dinosockosaurus (aka Frank) review this book for you. Oh yes.

You’ll forgive him if he seems a bit scatterbrained. This is his first time on camera. Allow me to answer a few questions for you ahead of time:

1. Yes, I made Frankasockosaurus.
2. No, I’m not sure what exactly his accent is or why it changes so often.
2a. No, we don’t hate Canadians. Duh! One of our favorite readers lives in Canada! Frank just meant that maybe he’ll have a Canadian accent in his next video (and let’s be honest, it will be totally botched anyway).

So without further ado, I give you…. Frank’s review of 11/22/63 by Stephen King.

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Great Advice! … Not. (Worst Advice Ever!)

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Stop me if you’ve heard this one before:

You’re talking to a friend about something — a problem you can’t figure out or something that’s bugging you, maybe — and after pouring your guts out, they blink at you and say…

“Just don’t think about it.”

Excuse me? What?

I love my friends, but that’s the worst advice of all time. And I absolutely can’t stand it when someone tells me to just not think about it.

When I was little and not feeling well, I’d say something like, “Dad, I think I’m going to throw up.” His response?

“Just don’t think about it.”

So I’d try not to think about. But actively trying not to think about it made me think about it even more. Go figure. And you know what? I always threw up anyway.

The thing is, most people aren’t hardwired to just not think about it. Or maybe men are hardwired to just not think about it. I don’t know. But I’ll tell you what I do know, and it’s this:

Telling someone who struggles with depression, anxiety, and obsessive compulsive disorder “just don’t think about it” is just about as effective as telling yourself to stop blinking or telling Lady Gaga to be normal. It’s a lesson in futility.

Still, for a while I tried to heed this advice, as it seemed well-meaning at the time.

I could tell you all about how that went, but instead… I (mostly) drew you some pictures!

Things To Do When You’re Just Not Thinking About It

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Social Media and the Validation of Existence

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Life’s been kind of funny lately — putting people in places I would never expect to find them, prodding at the void left by people I hoped would be there forever, presenting me with some interesting career opportunities (among them — I just got my first experience teaching adults about social media last week, and it was overall a pleasant experience). So I guess in a lot of ways, my see-saw is balanced enough.

Comme ci, comme ça.

I’m a very stressed out person. When it came time to vote on senior class superlatives in high school, I was one of the final contenders for “Most-Stressed Senior Girl.” In the end, I was edged out, but stress still has a way of shutting me down. At the same time, it soothes me. I like being busy and I like the odds being stacked against me. I like the feeling of accomplishment when I can cross something off of my to-do list or when my emails are down to 0. I’ve been called an over-achiever. Really I’m just trying not to let my mind overtake me.

Most of all, I love when my mind is so occupied that I don’t have time to think about the things that are bothering me. And that’s what I’ve been doing. I’ve been keeping myself so busy that I can’t wait to go to sleep at night, and in many cases, I never remember my head hitting the pillow (impressive for someone who’s been dealing with insomnia on and off since fourth grade).

However, a combination of the nap I took earlier (owed to the fact that I’m sick for the fifth time in eight weeks) and paranoia (some shady characters who are known to steal things for drug money were caught looking in the windows of my car and discussing what is — was [it’s all been removed] — inside) has me awake now.

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