KZ Writes Good
The internet is a huge bathroom wall, and any halfwit with a keyboard and a connection has an opportunity to scrawl on it. Take me, for instance. My name is KZ. For a good time, come find me at Prosaic Shades of Gray.
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So Long, Nicky
It’s been a little over a week since I’ve learned the news that Nicky has passed away. She was gorgeous, kind, full of warmth and wit, and devastatingly funny. She was one of two writers who updated and maintained a humor blog called We Work For Cheese.
Nicky was my friend. I miss her dearly.
It’s still strange to me, thinking about Nicky in the past tense. I guess in some ways, it’s a strange thing that our paths should have ever crossed at all.
I’m a relatively young guy from California with a preoccupation for cats, paintball, video games, Reddit, and YouTube. Nicky was a worldly woman from Montreal who was twelve years my senior. She was a mother of three who loved cheese, spirits, international travel, and high heels. My God, did she love her high heels.
Needless to say, Nicky and I came from different worlds.
We stumbled across each other’s blogs sometime back in 2010, and for some reason we really hit it off in our respective Comment Sections. I guess that’s a testament to the unifying power of the Internet. I’m sure it also had something to do with the fact that Nicky was kind of a sarcastic smart-ass, just like me.
We never had an opportunity to meet face to face, nor did we ever carry a proper conversation in real time. Yet despite the gaps in proximity and time zones, I knew enough about Nicky to know that I liked her. Everybody liked Nicky once they got to know her.
When I think of Nicky, I think of all the times she’s made me laugh — true, joyful, full-bodied belly laughs whether by something she wrote in a blog post, or in a playful comment that she had left behind on somebody else’s blog.
One of the most extraordinary things about Nicky was, as Nonamedufus put it so well, “her writing and commenting just made you feel like her best friend.” Nicky was remarkably generous with her time. She went to the trouble to read her friends’ blog entries, and she always came prepared with a pithy joke, or some encouraging words just to let you know that somewhere out there in the great void of Internet obscurity, somebody cared enough to acknowledge what you had to say.
She remembered what you wrote, too. Back in January 2011, I blogged about how I would soon be turning 30 years old, and about how much it bummed me out that my identity as a young man had officially given way to older age and adulthood. Nicky called me “kiddo” in the Comments Section, and she told me not to sweat my age. Months later, and eventually years later — long after it was charitably justifiable to do so — Nicky continued to call me kiddo without any sense of irony just because she knew it made me smile.
It’s been a little harder to smile lately since I’ve heard the news. Nicky meant so much to so many people. My heart swells heavily with grief when I think about all of the family and friends that she had to leave behind. The world is a poorer place without her humor, generosity, and gentle humanity.
These things pass though, I know. One day I’ll learn to leave the pain behind, but I never want to forget all of the laughter and joy that Nicky brought to my life. I never will.
I’m going to miss you, Nicky. Hello and goodbye, dear friend.