day twenty three: a living eulogy

Back in April I discovered Time's 100 Most Influential People in 2018 and was honest to god brought to tears by some of them. Like Judd Apatow's piece on Kumail Nanjiani and John Mayer's on Shawn Mendes.

As Kelsey and I were going back and forth via email, squealing about our favs writing about our other favs, she said she would write a living eulogy for me if I managed to blog everyday in May.

Well, I did. And so, she did.

Here it is.


I recently listened to an interview of two comedians (who work together regularly) and one of them referred to the other as his 'comedic security blanket'. The moment I heard him say that, Alissa's name popped into my head.

Not only would I consider Alissa my comedic security blanket, but I would also consider her both my emotional and social security blanket.  She makes me feel comfortable, understood, and appreciated in situations where I normally wouldn't feel that way.

Nine times out of ten, I make a complete ass out of myself when faced with any kind of unfamiliar social situation. I have never related to someone so much as when Michael Scott said  "...sometimes I'll start a sentence, and I don't even know where it's going. I just hope I find it along the way."  When I get myself into these humiliating social spirals, Alissa always finds a way to swoop in and help me make sense of what I am trying to say, and then gently guide me away from said conversation before it gets any worse.

It is a total pro move, and no one does it better than she does.


She is a person who in one breath will talk me off of a ledge, but in the next breath lure me out onto that same ledge, because the view is good and if she gets a photo of the skyline at just the right angle, she has the perfect Instagram caption planned to go along with it. She will tell me to take a beat / sleep on it / not make any rash decisions, and then fifteen minutes later inform me that we are going to Washington state for a long weekend in September, and here is her flight information so I know which one to book.

I am a more confident, socially secure, and happy person when Alissa is around. My friendship with her has brought so much adventure, experience, and deep, soul-shaking laughter into my life, and I can't thank her enough for that. I would thank her for it in person, but as she once told me when I tried to hug her goodbye at a party, "we don't do that".

 

RIP ALISSA.

JK. This totally reads like an obituary, though, doesn't it?